Conversation with Michelle begins somewhere in the lobby, well before either of you has sat down anywhere. She is 173 cm, curvy, and carries it with the ease of somebody who stopped thinking about it years ago. Her dark brown hair is straight and worn long. Her brown eyes go straight to whoever is talking. Late twenties, she dresses warmly rather than sharply: a wrap dress, a good shawl for the river wind, earrings that catch the light when she laughs, which she does at almost anything.
Elegant is the surface and nurturing is what sits underneath it, which is an unusual combination in a city this brisk. She notices when a glass is empty and when a conversation has gone somewhere uncomfortable, and she fixes both without announcing that she has. Her English is fluent and chatty in the best sense. Sailing is the family habit she kept. Museums are the weekend default. Mixology is the newer enthusiasm, and she will rebuild your drink order if she thinks it is beneath you.
Her evening near the Strand starts in the courtyard at Somerset House, where the fountains run in summer and the whole place is lit like a stage set once it is dark. She likes the river terrace for a first drink and the walk down to the water afterwards. Dinner follows at a long table somewhere nearby, and she is at her best with a group, where she quietly makes sure that nobody at the table is left out of anything.
Chelsea is home, fifteen minutes from Strand and Aldwych at that hour. Most evenings this week are still open: write to booking and the reply lands quickly, usually with two or three hours to choose between.
Her home stage is Chelsea, and she travels from there to the venues this house covers. Her full listing sits with the rest of the company on the companions page.