- 1 Nov 2025
- Vivienne Claymore
- 0
In Forest Gate, a quiet stretch of East London where the railway lines hum and the corner shops still open at 7 a.m., something quietly unusual has been growing. It’s not the kind of thing you hear about on the news or see in tourist brochures. But if you walk past the bus stops near the Forest Gate Library or sit in the café across from the park on a Friday evening, you might notice a pattern: women in tailored coats, waiting near the entrance of the Tesco Extra, or slipping into a car with a man who doesn’t live here. These aren’t random encounters. They’re part of a discreet, long-standing escort presence that’s woven into the fabric of this working-class suburb - not flashy, not loud, but undeniably there.
How Forest Gate Became a Quiet Hub for Independent Escorts
Forest Gate isn’t Stratford. It’s not Walthamstow. It doesn’t have the glitter of West End nightlife or the high-end apartments of Canary Wharf. But that’s exactly why it works. The area is densely populated, well-connected by the Elizabeth Line and the Overground, and sits just outside the zone where police surveillance is most visible. Landlords here are used to short-term tenants. The local pubs don’t ask questions. And for women working independently, it’s a sweet spot: affordable rent, easy access to central London, and a community that mostly looks away.
Unlike in areas like Clapham or Chelsea, where agencies dominate, Forest Gate’s escort scene is almost entirely independent. Most women work alone, using Instagram and private Telegram groups to connect with clients. Many are students from nearby universities, single mothers from the Romford area, or women who moved here after leaving abusive relationships. One woman, who asked to be called ‘Lena,’ told me over coffee near the Forest Gate Station: “I don’t need a fancy apartment or a limo. I need to pay the bills and keep my son in school. This lets me do that without anyone knowing.”
Where It Happens - And Where It Doesn’t
The activity isn’t spread evenly. You won’t find escorts near the Forest Gate Primary School or the community centre on Ilford Road. But walk half a mile south toward the A12, near the petrol station and the closed-down betting shop, and you’ll see the same cars parked at odd hours. The same goes for the alley behind the Turkish takeaway on Barkingside Road - a place locals call “the quiet corner.”
Contrast this with nearby Newham, where agencies operate openly in converted flats near the West Ham station. Or with Ilford, where the escort scene is more transactional and fast-paced. Forest Gate is different. It’s slower. More personal. Clients often return. Some have been coming for years. A few even bring their partners - not for group encounters, but because they’ve built trust.
Who Comes Here - And Why
Forest Gate attracts a specific kind of client. Not the flashy businessman from the City, but the quiet ones: the delivery driver from Barking, the nurse from Romford, the retired teacher from Leytonstone. Many are married. Some are lonely. Others just want to talk. One regular, a 58-year-old electrician from Wanstead, said he’d been coming for eight years. “It’s not about sex,” he told me. “It’s about someone who remembers your name and doesn’t judge you for being tired.”
There are also expats - men from Eastern Europe and the Middle East who live in the area but don’t know how to navigate London’s social scene. For them, Forest Gate offers anonymity and safety. No one asks where they’re from. No one takes a photo. No one reports them.
The Local Response - Silence as a Shield
Most residents don’t talk about it. Not because they approve, but because they’ve learned to live with it. The local council doesn’t intervene. The police don’t patrol the alley behind the takeaway. The community board met last year to discuss “anti-social behaviour” - but the term was never defined. No one mentioned escorts.
There’s a quiet understanding here. People know. But they don’t want the stigma. They don’t want the media. They don’t want the property values to drop. So they keep quiet. And in that silence, the service continues - not as a scandal, but as a hidden support system.
How It Compares to Other Parts of East London
Compare Forest Gate to Stratford. In Stratford, you’ll find agencies with websites, Instagram profiles, and even branded vans. Clients book online. Prices are fixed. You get a checklist: 60 minutes, 90 minutes, luxury hotel, extra services. It’s efficient. It’s clinical.
In Forest Gate? No websites. No reviews. No profiles. You find someone through a friend of a friend. You text a number. You meet in a quiet hotel on the edge of the borough - the Premier Inn near the A13, or the Travelodge in Barking. The price? £80 to £150. Cash only. No receipts. No receipts means no trace.
Even in nearby Barking, where the escort scene is more visible, you’ll see women waiting outside the 24-hour laundrette. In Forest Gate, they wait in cars. Or in the back of the local library’s parking lot, where the CCTV camera hasn’t worked since 2022.
What’s Changing - And What Isn’t
Since the pandemic, things have shifted. More women are working from home. Some use Zoom calls for companionship. Others meet clients in Airbnb rentals booked under fake names. A few have moved to Romford or Dagenham, where rents are cheaper and scrutiny is lower.
But the core hasn’t changed. Forest Gate still offers what few other places in London do: privacy without the price tag, safety without the bureaucracy, and dignity without the judgment. It’s not glamorous. It’s not legal. But it’s real.
And for the women who work here - many of whom have no other options - it’s survival.
Why This Matters Beyond Forest Gate
This isn’t just about one suburb. It’s about what happens when cities ignore the people who fall through the cracks. Forest Gate’s escort scene isn’t a problem to be solved. It’s a symptom - of housing insecurity, of wage stagnation, of isolation in a city of millions.
When you hear about “London escorts,” you think of Mayfair. You think of luxury. But in Forest Gate, it’s different. It’s about a single mother working nights so her child can eat. It’s about a man who hasn’t had a hug in two years. It’s about a system that offers no safety net - so people build their own.
If you’re looking for answers, don’t ask the police. Don’t ask the council. Ask the woman who serves your coffee at the corner shop. She might not say it out loud. But she knows.
