Jasmin, on the late shift in Soho

Salsa on Tuesdays. A new perfume sample every week. A cocktail shaker on the kitchen shelf that sees more use than the kettle. Jasmin fills her days with small pleasures and brings the same appetite to an evening: curious about everything, bubbly without being loud, and quick with a teasing line whenever the moment asks for one.

She is 160 cm and petite. The chestnut brown hair falls long, straight and glossy; the brown eyes betray every joke a beat before the punchline arrives. The wardrobe is boutique hotel chic, a slip dress, a cropped jacket, heels that can manage a dance floor. She is twenty two, with the energy that goes with it, and her English runs fast when she is excited, which is most of the time.

Soho is home and she uses it well. Her favourite first stop is Bar Américain, the Art Deco room tucked beneath Brasserie Zédel just off Piccadilly Circus, where she will order you something classic and then explain exactly why it works. After that she might suggest a Latin night near Charing Cross Road for one song, just one, or a wander through the lanes to see which bars are still lit. Perfume is her private study, and she keeps a notebook of every scent she has tried and the room she first wore it to. Back at the hotel she is still bright and still curious, asking about the view from your window and the last city you woke up in.

Jasmin lives in Soho, a short walk from most West End hotels, and she works late, from nine at night. Tell Henrietta your hotel and the hour you are free; the reply comes in minutes.