Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

I selected elegant Louis Vuitton leather evening purses for each of us—they would be perfect for
our nights out! My understated choice wasn’t gaudy enough for Tina, however, she returned my gift in
exchange for a Louis Vuitton bucket purse with the brand’s logo emblazoned all over it.
Carolyn got us Gucci purses; April chose fur jackets (I ended up donating mine to the Goodwill
—real fur has never been my thing); Candice (who had stepped into the spot Adrianna had left
vacant) picked out large Gucci travel totes, and Vicky selected Gucci shoes.
While the showering of luxurious items was beyond anything I’d ever imagined having just a few
months earlier, we didn’t have the financial freedom many people assumed. Not even close.
Obviously, we all wanted to save money. But Hef knew that money equals freedom to walk out
the door, so he was exceptionally careful how he spent it on us. When Tina and Lisa chose Best Buy
gift certificates to give each girlfriend at Christmas, Hef let it be known that he was severely
displeased. I suppose gift cards too closely resembled cash for his taste.
After Christmas, Lisa became the first girlfriend to depart since Adrianna had left four months
earlier. She found a modest apartment in L.A. and sent her three dogs home to her mom back east.
And just like that, she packed up her things and drove off the property. Despite working regularly
with Playmate Promotions, rumor had it she ran through her savings in just a few months and ended up
moving back to her hometown after all. When I heard the news, my heart sank for her. She wanted so
desperately to make it, to prove wrong all of those cynics back home who judged her decision to pose
for Playboy. But I couldn’t help but think that they’d been right. Where did it get her?
“She thought she was such hot shit,” some of the girls gloated. “She thought she had it made
because she was a Playmate and she couldn’t even cut it out there on her own for a few months.”
Wow, she had a centerfold and everything, I thought. Even booking appearances as a Playmate
couldn’t keep her afloat in L.A. They were talking about her as if she were a laughingstock. It was
clear I needed to land a good job or a few decent roles before I could ever go back out on my own. I
wasn’t having any luck landing a centerfold and even that wasn’t looking like the most secure gig
anymore.
When it came to our weekly clothing allowance, I socked away as much of it as I could to pay
off my student loans and credit card debt and begin creating a modest savings. It proved difficult,
though, because we had to make sure that our allowance always appeared well spent.
When Hazel, one of Hef’s administrative assistants, suspected that a girl wasn’t spending the
money the way it was intended, she would let Hef know. Most of the girls were intolerable to the staff
—and she was sick and tired of all the users.
“You should stop giving them so much clothing allowance,” Hazel told Hef. “They just wear
bras and panties to the parties—they’re clearly not spending it on clothes!”
This would always send him into a tizzy and Tina would end up having to go to bat for herself
and the other girls to make sure Hef didn’t lower the allowance. It was clear that we had to have
something to show for the money he gave us and therefore it became a balancing act: save as much
money as you could, but spend enough so that our allowance doesn’t get cut.
Another well-placed catch-22 was the car situation. Girlfriends always got new cars while
living at the mansion. Like everything else, what we drove around town in was a direct reflection of