February, the month when Cupid’s bow is poised to strike hearts everywhere. His aim wasn’t looking quite so steady this time last year when my matchmaking colleagues asked me to take a “tricky” female client for a cocktail and a chat.
“It’ll be fine,” they said. “You’re both around the same age, both used to getting what you want, and both have apartments in Monaco. That’s a good place to start!”
The client, Katrina, a Scottish high-flyer in her indeterminate forties, had been married twice and chosen a career over children. She was running a TV station by the time she was 30 and the sale to one of the Murdoch group of companies had afforded her a choice of jobs. Actually, she found she was pretty good at making money, buying up a series of buildings that were to become posh student housing for rich parents sending their coddled offspring to British universities for the perfect “finishing-school” education.
I was delighted to spot Katrina as I walked into Buddha Bar. She had clearly taken my advice that “you can never be overdressed in Monte Carlo” and she was perched on a bar stool blinged up the ying-yang.