Chocolate brown hair, cut long and left to do as it likes, over brown eyes and a petite frame that stands 169 cm in flat shoes. Tiffany is finely built rather than small, and she dresses for Soho with a certain amount of deliberate scruffiness: a good jacket over something plain, silver rather than gold, and boots that have clearly been somewhere. Mid twenties. She is the least formal arrival on the list after Lucy and she knows it.

Her English is quick and full of opinions she is happy to be argued out of. She is curious, restless and easily delighted, and she has the useful habit of treating a stranger like somebody she has already decided to like. She plays guitar badly, walks the whole city rather than taking the tube, and can tell you what is on at the small venues that never advertise.

A W1D evening with her tends to be Blacklock on Great Windmill Street, the basement chop house where the meat arrives on a board, the music is loud and nobody has ever whispered. She wants the long table at the back. Soho has been hers for years, and she will cross the length of the neighbourhood on foot, past the record shops and the stage doors, without once looking at a phone.

Midnight finishes are normal with her and nobody treats them as an extension. The Soho page covers W1D and the others who work it. Say which evening and which hotel when you write to booking, and whether the night is hers gets settled quickly.

Nothing has been written up under Tiffany yet, which is usually what discretion looks like. A note goes on the board only when a client sends one in writing, she agrees to it, and the office has checked that it reads as a first name, a month and nothing private.