Lea, Oud-Zuid companionfor the nightafter the curtain

The curtain drops at the Stadsschouwburg and Lea is already on her feet, clapping a beat too long, half a review ready before the house lights come up. Then the spontaneous part. “Let's not go back yet.” A tram. A corner bar on Leidseplein. A table by the window with a view of the square. The night gets a second act, and it is usually better than the first.

Lea is twenty-three, petite at 161 cm, with long wavy auburn hair and hazel eyes that crinkle when she laughs, which is often. Sweet without being sugary. Charming in a way that sneaks up on you around the second glass. Her base is Oud-Zuid, by the Vondelpark and the museum quarter, and she knows which cafés there still pour a nightcap after eleven. Put her in a room of strangers and within the hour she knows everybody by name.

Theatre is the big love, but her hands stay busy too. She throws ceramics: lopsided cups, one bowl she is quietly proud of, clay under her nails on a Sunday afternoon. Milena shares that hobby, if you ever want to hear two people argue about glazes. Lea also has a sharp eye for interior design. Within thirty seconds of walking into any room she has redecorated it in her head, and she will tell you exactly what she would change. It is always the lamp. Design shops and furniture showrooms pull her in on any walk, so allow extra time.

Her look is soft romantic sun-kissed style. Warm colours, loose waves, something that moves in the breeze on a canal bridge. In English she is quick, curious and a little bit teasing. Book Lea for a show, a late supper, and one more stop she picks on the way home. Bring an opinion on the play. She will have two.

Plan A is theatre. Lea books two seats at the Stadsschouwburg on Leidseplein, arrives ten minutes early to watch the audience file in, and spends the interval redesigning the foyer out loud. It is a very good foyer. She still has notes.

Plan B starts the moment the curtain falls, because Lea never goes straight home after a show. Maybe a tram to a design shop whose window she wants you to see lit up at night. Maybe a late supper near the Vondelpark at a place with mismatched chairs she approves of. Maybe a bridge, two takeaway coffees and a completely honest verdict on the second act. Only one rule is fixed. She chooses the table, and she will explain exactly what is wrong with the lamp hanging over it.