Luna chooses the first bottle

There is no quiet way to wear hair the colour of Luna's, so she has never tried. Dark auburn red and long past her shoulders, it catches every streetlight between Piccadilly Circus and Greek Street. Standing 171 cm, curvy, with brown eyes that hold a look a fraction longer than expected, she favours bold modern glamour: a bias-cut satin dress, sharp tailoring over it, a single strong earring. In her early twenties, she has the independence of someone who has always chosen her own table.

Luna is direct about what she enjoys, and what she enjoys is mostly about the senses. She tastes wine properly, nose first, and can describe a glass without sounding like a label. She shoots photographs on an old film camera and develops the good ones herself. Theatre is her third devotion, new writing above all, and she sees at least one play a month. Her English is confident and warm. Independent to the core, she makes plans easily and leaves you feeling the idea was yours.

Given the choice, she takes you to Noble Rot Soho on Greek Street, a wine-led restaurant in a lovingly kept old dining room, with a list she could study for an hour. She arrives having already picked the first bottle, lets you choose the second, and turns dinner into a slow tasting you will remember. Beforehand there might be a play at one of the smaller theatres; afterwards a nightcap, and then she walks you back to your hotel carrying her heels.

Monday to Thursday evenings are the ones Luna keeps for bookings, travelling in from Mayfair. Weeknight tables around Piccadilly Circus are where she shines, and a line to booking reserves her.