Mikki is Soho’s electricity in human form—a whirlwind of blonde hair, daring minidresses, and unapologetic charm. With midnight-blue eyes that seem to catch every secret and a frame as petite as it is powerful, Mikki lights up Soho’s backstreets and bars like a wayward comet. Whether she’s commanding the floor at The Duck or running Soho Girl Boutique on Berwick Street, her presence is pure energy—chaotic, playful, and impossible to ignore.

Her style, like her personality, is a provocation. Tiny dresses cling to her frame, necklines plunging into rebellion, while her platform sandals clatter against the pavement as if daring Soho to keep up. Colours whisper and shout all at once: black, deep reds, stark whites, and smoky greys. And when the mood takes her, she wraps herself in midnight blue or grey-blue, a nod to Soho’s shadowed elegance. Each outfit is as much an invitation as it is a warning. It’s practical too, in its own way. No bras, no underwear, nothing that slows her down.

But Mikki isn’t just here to dazzle; she’s woven into Soho’s underground like a thread of silver through black silk. Soho Girl Boutique, her creation, isn’t just a shop—it’s a refuge for women who want more than clothes; they want freedom stitched into fabric. Stocking MQSW’s boundary-pushing designs, the boutique is a temple to confidence and self-expression, Mikki’s true religion.

There’s a tenderness to her, though, beneath all the noise. Mikki thrives on connection, the kind that makes you feel like the centre of her world for the briefest, most beautiful moment. Her role as an Alley Girl isn’t a job—it’s an extension of herself, blending physical touch with emotional connection. She’ll kiss you before she knows your name and remember the way you made her laugh long after you’ve gone.

Mikki doesn’t just embody Soho; she is Soho. Wild, unfiltered, and full of life, she’s the heartbeat of a place that never truly sleeps. Whether she’s pouring drinks, seducing strangers, or making you try on a dress you’d never dare wear, Mikki leaves a mark—sharp as gin, soft as a whispered promise.