Published in Sunday Life, June 15th 2008
Article by Claire Hutchinson
A good matchmaker is never off-duty. But hold on a minute, because modern dating gets more tailor-made, even than this. Let me introduce you to Penelope Dillon-Jones, a tall, elegant girl with her hair slicked back into an efficient ponytail. Penelope is a romantic headhunter. Like a fine-tuned business spy, she will go out into the world and seek your perfect match.
‘I come from a marketing background,’ she explains. ‘I´ve worked in Australia I had a career with a giant European company and I was poised for executive roles, but I started to burn out. My last job was in Berlin. For six months, I was flying out at 6am, every Monday, and back on the 9pm flight, every Friday. I was living in an airport hotel, and I hated it. So I joined my mother’s dating agency. I was just going to work on the business side, but I ended up going to see one client and we became really good friends. Getting to know her was great and going out to meet people with her in mind was just lovely. So….I ended up a headhunter.’
A headhunter is somebody who, instead of simply introducing you to other people on the dating-agency books, will actually go out and find you a partner. When Penelope has got to know you (which she does, over a whole day), she will place discreet advertisements in appropriate press outlets, recommending you as her romantic client. Anyone who likes the sound of you can get in touch with Penelope and she will meet them to assess their viability. You’re a bit like a movie star with a tough agent: if the prospective suitor can impress Penelope, she might let him meet you. The diplomatic process doesn’t end there: honest feedback on both sides can be filtered through Penelope, who is even prepared to do the embarrassing bit of telling the guy you don’t want to see him again.
The Eros Agency (the agency set up by Penelope´s mother, Jude) has plenty of single people on its books. You can, of course, flick through these options before being ‘advertised’ and entering the head-hunting process: if you join this agency (500 euro for 3 months), you can meet pretty much anyone you want. The client base is broad: bankers, businessmen, army officers, all of whom seem to love dogs, muddy walks and country sports!
The agency are particularly choosy about the clients they take on – they like to maintain a small client list and give it undivided attention – but all the matchmakers told me that they issue refusals sometimes. There are people who can’t be helped – people whose stories don’t stand up, whose desires don’t chime with their need. Penelope once refused a wealthy fifty-something, who only wanted to meet women 20 years his junior. ‘He was only interested in arm-candy,’ she says.
All the agents are prepared to offer client advice. If you go on a series of dates with men who don’t call back, these ladies are here to help. Penelope has advised on everything from smiling more to wearing fewer shoulder-pads.
Nevertheless, sometimes a potential client is simply ruled out as unmatchable. The 21st century question is not ‘Are the lonely-hearts good enough for me?’, but ‘Am I good enough for them?’ I half wonder whether the reason I agreed to go on dates myself was just because I was so relieved to be ruled in.
Then again, I have always been a hopeful romantic. Tonight, I’m having drinks with a novelist. His emails are great, and we’re both going to carry The Evening Standard. What the hell? You never know. It may be old-fashioned – but even corsets are cool again.