Jasmin, quick bright company off Piccadilly Circus

About Jasmin

Small, quick, bright. Jasmin is 160 cm of concentrated good mood, 22 years lived at double speed, chestnut hair to her waist and brown eyes that miss nothing. Where taller companions glide, she darts; on a tired arrival the effect is of the first drink landing early. She flirts the way some people breathe, harmlessly, constantly, and entirely on purpose.

Her enthusiasms are specific. Salsa on Sunday nights, perfume worn in rotation and discussed at length if permitted, and cocktails as a subject of study, she will grade a bar's daiquiri like an examiner. Conversation skips, doubles back, lands somewhere unexpected. Her English is fluent, fast, and punctuated with laughter that other tables tend to envy. She claims to be learning restraint and produces no evidence; ask for a quiet corner and she will give you one, though the corner rarely stays quiet once her stories find their stride.

This corner of the site's map suits her exactly, the bright end of W1J where Piccadilly Circus empties into the small streets. Her signature evening is Brasserie Zédel, down those improbable gold stairs into a room that makes every dinner feel like a scene, then back up into the neon and a short walk to wherever you are staying. Theatre crowds, late landings, guests who finish work at eleven, her diary bends toward the night owls, and she arrives as fresh at midnight as others manage at seven.

She is filed under Piccadilly Circus. Read the rates ladder, then a booking message, hotel and hour, is all she needs.

How her evening opens

Jasmin takes evening and late night appointments gladly, including after-theatre hours when most diaries close. Confirm with the standard deposit and she will be dressed before you have chosen the bar.

Every figure she works to sits on the statement, and the rest of the account is one message away.

An evening with Jasmin

An ideal Jasmin evening starts late and ends later. Ten o'clock at Brasserie Zédel, steak frites because it is always right, and a negroni she will annotate. She is the best audience in London for a day's war stories and the best narrator of her own, expect the salsa class anecdotes to be better than most theatre within walking distance.

Past midnight she is still bright, that is the point of her. A last drink somewhere small, the walk through a Circus finally gone quiet, the lift up. She keeps the energy warm rather than loud once the door closes, and morning bookings that follow her late nights report her surprisingly serene. Book the second hour upfront; with Jasmin, one is a false economy.