Tina, confident company from the Jordaan

Tina sketches clothes on whatever is nearest, napkins included, and has done since she was a teenager.

Fashion design is not a hobby she mentions to seem interesting; it is the thing she thinks about on trams, and Nora is the one she talks seams and fabric weight with when the two of them get going. If you compliment a jacket she will tell you exactly why it works, which is more fun than it sounds.

She is 26 and 158 centimetres, the smallest woman on the board and entirely unbothered by it, athletic, with long espresso brown hair and brown eyes. Her styling is classic and simple, clean lines and nothing fashionable for its own sake, which is a slightly funny thing for a designer to admit and a very good look on her.

Craft cocktails are the evening interest, taken seriously enough to have a standing argument with Molly about which bar in the city is coasting. Records are the third thing, a collection built slowly through the secondhand shops of the city, played at home rather than photographed for anybody. She will ask what you listened to at seventeen and she will not be laughing at the answer, whatever it turns out to be.

She keeps a place in the Jordaan, a few minutes from the canal ring, with an easy ride out to the rest of the Randstad. She is warm and straightforward in English. Confident without being hard work, easygoing without being vague, Tina is a good choice for a guest who wants conversation with some substance in it and none of the ceremony that usually comes attached. Tell her the truth about how your day went and she will give you an honest one back, which is not the standard currency of a hotel bar at eleven at night.

Pick a bar with a short food menu and a long drinks list and Tina will handle the rest. She takes cocktails seriously enough to keep a standing argument going about which place here is coasting, and she orders without any fuss about it.

Compliment a jacket and she will explain exactly why it works, because clothes are what she is designing in her head on the tram, and on whatever paper is nearest, napkins included. Then the question nobody expects, which is what you listened to at seventeen. She is not going to laugh at the answer, whatever it happens to be, and there is a record collection behind the asking, built slowly through the secondhand shops. Tell her the truth about your day and you get an honest one back.