Milena does not audition for a room. At 175 cm she is among the tallest women here, curvy and deliberate, her black hair long and straight, her brown eyes holding your gaze a little longer than most people find comfortable. Twenty five. She dresses for impact and knows exactly what she is doing: a sharp shouldered dress, a heavy coat she wears like armour, and one piece of jewellery chosen because it catches the light when she moves her hands.
Fierce is the honest word and glamorous is the obvious one, but the quality that actually matters is that she is direct. She will tell you what she thinks of a plan, a restaurant or an opinion, warmly and without cruelty, and it is a relief after an evening of people hedging. Her English is fluent. Tennis is the discipline, ceramics are what she does with her hands on a Sunday, and coffee is taken standing at a counter, short, and never after six.
Her Kings Cross evening starts in the glass barrel of the German Gymnasium, the old Victorian hall behind the station where the tables sit under an enormous vaulted roof and nobody rushes you. From there it is five minutes to Coal Drops Yard, where the shops shut and the bars do not, and where the canal path is worth the detour. She likes that the whole district was derelict within living memory and now looks like this.
She lives in South Kensington and will cross the city for a Kings Cross evening without a word of complaint. Overnights suit her better than short bookings, and booking will confirm one tonight if the night is free.
Her home stage is South Kensington, 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.