Escorts in Bond Street, W1S, with the jewellers' windows still lit after closing

The street takes its name from Sir Thomas Bond, who developed the southern stretch in the 1680s; the northern half followed a generation later. It is still narrow, which is half its charm. Near the join between Old and New, Churchill and Roosevelt sit side by side on a bronze bench, and visitors queue with great courtesy to squeeze in between them for a photograph.

Above the entrance to Sotheby's on New Bond Street, an ancient Egyptian lioness carved more than three thousand years ago keeps watch, reputedly the oldest outdoor statue in London. Off Old Bond Street, the Royal Arcade threads through to Albemarle Street beneath its glass roof, and at the northern end South Molton Street becomes a pedestrian lane of cafés and small boutiques that runs almost to the station door. Cork Street and Savile Row lie a street to the east; Brook Street and its Art Deco landmark lie a street to the west.

Bond Street draws its own crowd. Guests on a short, serious shopping trip write after the afternoon's last fitting. Buyers and editors arrive for the fashion weeks in February and September and want someone who can talk about a collection with real interest. Collectors in town for a sale write from the hotels on either side of the street, and residents of the apartments tucked above the flagship stores write when they fancy dinner nearby and a quiet evening at home.

The women who shine here have an eye. They can tell a good cut from a merely clever one, they will say honestly whether the second watch suits you better than the first, and they never, ever look bored in a fitting room.

The nearest of them stands on Conduit Street just off New Bond Street, W1S 2YF, with a polished bar that fills with shopping bags in the early evening. A few minutes west along Brook Street comes W1K 4HR, and through the Royal Arcade from Old Bond Street sits W1S 4BP, its panelled rooms and proper English tea a gentle antidote to a long day on the pavement.

Further north, W1K 6TF overlooks the raised Italianate terrace of Brown Hart Gardens, a few minutes from the Oxford Street end, and its Colony Grill Room has the air of an old New York supper club. East across Regent Street, W1B 4DY occupies a grand Victorian building whose gilded grill room once belonged to Oscar Wilde's crowd.

Think of this list as a map legend rather than an endorsement: Mayfair Babes has no agreement with any of these hotels, and in their lobbies your companion is simply your guest for the evening.

The station that shares the street's name sits some 2 minutes from its Oxford Street end, and it carries three lines: the Central, the Jubilee and, most usefully for travellers, the Elizabeth line. Trains run from Heathrow to Bond Street with no change, so you can land, drop your bags at the hotel and still be early for dinner. Oxford Circus, for the Bakerloo and Victoria lines, is around 5 minutes' walk east, and from the Piccadilly end Green Park is roughly 7 minutes away.

Your companion is driven over at any hour, with the journey included as it is across Zone 1. Traffic on Oxford Street and Regent Street keeps its own counsel, so Bella quotes a realistic arrival time, never an optimistic one: usually about an hour from her confirmation, more in the evening rush or when a Friday has the West End at a standstill, with the exact time posted to your chat as your companion sets out.

One short check covers it: Bella matches the reservation name to the hotel and room you give her, then lets the subject drop. Her fee is a private matter between you and her, settled at the door, and your hotel never hears a word about it.

The brief: a guest at W1K 4HR with one free afternoon, a suit waiting on Savile Row and no wish to shop alone. Bella's answer: Tiffany, who wears a little sequin shimmer even in daylight and never goes anywhere without a camera.

Stop one, four o'clock: The Foyer on Brook Street, under the glass chandelier, then east towards the windows. Stop two: the tailor, the suit and a final fitting she watches with a critic's eye. Stop three: the Royal Arcade, so she can inspect a perfumer's window, and the Allies bench for the obligatory photograph. Stop four: a window on Old Bond Street and a cheerful debate about which of three watches is the most honest. Her verdict is decisive and, he admits later, correct.

Last stop, half past six: an early supper at The Wolseley on Piccadilly, all black lacquer and chandeliers. At eight she hands him back to his evening with the suit over his arm and a far better opinion of his own taste. Four hours, the dinner date length, £1,300.

Three women live a few streets away in Mayfair: Luna, who dresses boldly and shops with total confidence; Samanta, whose noir tailoring would stop traffic on Old Bond Street; and Angelika, who knows every gallery on Cork Street and Dover Street.

East across Regent Street, Soho sends Tiffany, Molly, leather jacketed and fond of a gleaming car, and Jasmin, petite and fluent in perfume notes. North over Oxford Street, Marylebone is home to Rosa, who will insist on a detour to the Brook Street house where Handel and Hendrix once lived, and Liana, unhurried and elegant in cream silk. Each of them can meet you on the street itself or at your hotel.

Bond Street stitches the rest of Mayfair together. Walk west along Grosvenor Street and you reach Grosvenor Square in five minutes; keep going and Mount Street and the hotels of Park Lane follow. For the whole district, from Brook Street to Shepherd Market, see the Mayfair page. Oxford Street, Marylebone and Soho are covered as well, with exactly the same rates.