Angelika and the gallery hour

Some women dress to be looked at. Angelika dresses so that you look at her face, and the trick works every time. The hair is black, worn long and poker straight; the eyes are a steady brown; the dress is a plain column of dark silk with not one piece of jewellery competing for attention. At 172 cm, with the athletic frame of a woman who is on a tennis court most mornings, she stands easily in heels and still outpaces most people in flats.

Confidence is what people notice first; playfulness is what they remember. She is in her mid twenties, with the composure of someone far more travelled and a streak of mischief that surfaces the moment you relax. Her English is teasing and exact. Contemporary art is her real devotion, the stranger the better, and she reads exhibition notes on the Tube purely so she can disagree with them over supper. Jazz is her other weakness, preferably in a small room where the bass player sits close enough to nod at.

An evening with her in this corner of London tends to begin across the park. She likes the final hour at the Serpentine South gallery, when the light over the water turns pewter and the rooms empty out, followed by an unhurried walk along the lake towards Hyde Park Corner. By the time the white stucco of Belgravia comes into view she has usually decided where the jazz is tonight, and whether you have earned the second set.

Angelika lives in Mayfair, so the hotels bordering Hyde Park and the whole of SW1 sit a short cab ride from her door. Her hour begins at £400, the longer formats are set out on the rates page, and one message through booking is enough to hold her night.