Most people who work in fashion or modelling learn early that the obvious choice is rarely the right one. The obvious restaurant is full of people who booked it because someone else told them to. The obvious neighbourhood is overpriced and overlit. Bayswater is not obvious. That’s the whole point.
Bayswater has more hotels per square mile than anywhere else in London, which means there’s a lot of strangers at all hours. For an evening with a woman who wears the kind of outfit that signals exactly who’s in charge, that indifference is useful. Add the canal, the white stucco terraces, and a restaurant that most of London still hasn’t found, and you have a better evening than Mayfair would give you at twice the price.
If you’re a guest of one of these hotels, you can have a great with just a phone call – there are many pretty Bayswater escort ladies who would love to keep you company.
Start on Leinster Gardens
Leinster Gardens is worth arriving early for. It’s a street of tall mid-Victorian terraces in white and cream, the kind of facades that were built to project permanence and still do. Walk it before dark. A tall brunette in a structured latex dress and high heels on that pavement reads as completely deliberate against that backdrop – the scale of the buildings, the weight of the stone, the long straight line of the street.
From Leinster Gardens walk south to Inverness Terrace – five storeys of Victorian stucco, Corinthian pilasters, continuous balconies. Less walked than Leinster Gardens and better for it. A curvy redhead in high heels and dark stockings on those stone steps has a particular kind of composure the location gives her for free.
Dinner at Chez Patrick
Chez Patrick on Queensway opened in 1981 and hasn’t changed much since – same white tablecloths, dark wood and low light. The menu is steak frites, duck confit, cheese board. French and straightforward and done well. The kind of place that doesn’t need to update anything because nothing has stopped working.
It’s not fashionable. That’s what makes it right for this particular evening. A busty blonde in a structured corset and high heels at a white tablecloth in a room that has been doing the same thing well for forty years looks like she belongs somewhere with standards. She does.
The wine list is mostly French and mostly affordable by London standards. Order a bottle. The room is quiet enough on a weekday that the evening stays between the two of you.
After dinner, the canal
Walk north after dinner. Paddington Basin is fifteen minutes from Queensway, and the streets between them get progressively quieter. The canal, when it arrives, feels like a different city.
Go west along the towpath from the basin. At 9pm in summer the water is still and dark, lights on inside the narrowboats, Blomfield Road running along the north bank. Most of London has never walked it. A mature woman in a catsuit and high heels on that path, the canal alongside – the location handles the rest.
Ten minutes west is Browning’s Pool, where the two canals meet in a triangular basin ringed with houseboats. It’s the quietest point of the evening. Worth stopping for a few minutes before heading back.
A drink at the end
The Summerhouse is a restaurant on Blomfield Road with a terrace on the canal. It runs late enough on summer evenings to be useful for a last drink without committing to another full sitting. Table on the terrace, water in front of you, the evening gone dark by now.
If the Summerhouse is full, walk to the Prince Alfred on Formosa Street. Five minutes away, Victorian pub, original snob screens still intact – the wooden partitions that divide the bar into separate small compartments, each one its own room. Most pubs lost theirs decades ago. The Prince Alfred kept them. A skinny blonde in a dominatrix-looking dress takes a compartment, the partition closes, and the rest of the bar ceases to exist. She is Julie, one of the prettiest BDSM escorts in Bayswater. You can date her with just a phone call.
What Bayswater gives you
The evening runs from Leinster Gardens to Queensway to the canal to Blomfield Road. It covers about a mile and a half and four completely different registers – the heavy Victorian street, the French bistro, the towpath, the canal terrace.
She’ll set the pace. She usually does. A tall redhead in heels and dark stockings somewhere on that towpath at 10pm, the water black beside her, the lights of the narrowboats reflected underneath. That’s the evening. Let it run.
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