Cindy, companion in Chelsea

About Cindy

Cindy keeps her Chelsea evenings light on plans and heavy on good company. She is slim and 168 cm, her blonde hair long and wavy and rarely tied back, her blue eyes giving away her amusement well before she says anything. Her style is Chelsea in the real sense rather than the postcard one: flat shoes in the afternoon, a silk dress and a blazer by eight, a small bag with nothing useful in it. She is mid twenties, poised in a room full of strangers, and better company still once the room empties.

She talks in English, fast, with her hands going, and she is funny about the neighbourhood she lives in without ever being unkind about it. Ask her where to eat and you get three answers ranked by how tired you are. She swims most mornings, reads the restaurant pages like sport, and has a firm rule about never discussing work before the second glass. People relax around her within a few minutes, which is the whole job done.

Her Chelsea runs along the King's Road and stops at the river. Bluebird is her pick for a guest who wants the street done properly, a courtyard table in the warm months and the upstairs room when it turns. After dinner she walks you down Beaufort Street to the embankment, where the bridge lights do the work no restaurant can. She lives in Chelsea, five minutes from most of it, which means a late change of plan is rarely a problem for her.

Her streets, her hotels and the river end of them are on the Chelsea page. One message to booking with an hour in it gets an answer, and if that hour has gone Cordelia offers the nearest one that has not.

Booking her

Because Cindy lives five minutes from the King's Road, the desk can often place her at short notice: tell us the hour and the address and Cordelia confirms by message. Two hours is the shortest booking that does the walk justice.

Her figures are the same figures every companion here works to, printed on the rates page, and the order a booking runs in is on the booking page.

An evening with Cindy

A good one starts at half past seven with her already at the bar, because she lives close enough to be early and finds waiting restful. Dinner is the courtyard if the weather allows it and the upstairs room if it does not. She orders in a way that suggests she has done this here a hundred times, which she has, and she is generous with the plates.

The second half is a walk. Down towards the embankment, past the houseboats, over as much of the bridge as you feel like, with the traffic noise falling away behind you. She talks about the houses, who lived in them, who ruined them. If it rains she simply keeps walking and lets it rain. Back at your hotel by half past ten, or much later, depending entirely on the hour you booked.