Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

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PROLOGUE “I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.” —Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 1988 It wasn’t the most lavish-looking present under the tree. The flat, square package was wrapped in simple green and white paper with a glossy red drugstore-bought bow and addressed to me from my aunt. When I was nine, Christmas wasn’t necessarily the spectacular event it had been in years past. I wasn’t particularly interested in toys anymore, but I wasn’t yet mature enough to appreciate the more practical presents. Holding the soft object in my hand, I didn’t expect much. Carefully, I peeled away a corner of the paper to reveal what appeared to be the bright blue cover of a book. With a bit more eagerness, I tore away the remaining wrap and read aloud the words: Marilyn Monroe Paper Dolls. Of course I had heard of Marilyn Monroe before. Madonna had spent most of the ’80s replicating the movie star—most memorably in her 1985 Material Girl music video—and like most fourth-grade girls, I idolized the pop singer. But I don’t recall ever seeing Marilyn before this moment. Smiling up at me from the cover of this gorgeous book were two illustrations of the starlet: one dressed in a black-sequined showgirl costume and top hat from her 1953 movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and one in a casual pink sweater and capris with flowing blond curls from 1952’s Clash by Night. Flipping through the thick, glossy pages I saw a variety of costumes from her most famous roles: a pageant swimsuit with sash and tiara from We’re Not Married (1952); a cream gown with a pink and purple, frilly kimono wrap from The Prince and the Showgirl (1957); a green and yellow Bo Peep–inspired ensemble from one of her earliest roles; and so many more. More than 30 different costumes (including one of the starlet in nothing but a bathrobe draped over her otherwise naked body) filled the pages to dress the bikini-clad Marilyn Monroe cutout figure. On the back of the book was a biography, detailing how the orphan Norma Jeane became one of the world’s greatest movie stars. With extra special care, I methodically cut out the figure and each of her glittering outfits. I spent hours dressing and re-dressing my Marilyn doll, imagining how she must have felt in each moment:
the weight of those gilded gowns, the sounds of an active movie set, the wondrous eyes of the countless admirers, and the decadent Hollywood parties I could only dream about. My little world felt so limiting. As my family bounced from Oregon to Alaska, then eventually back to Oregon again, no place ever felt like home. I grew up hunting, fishing, reading, and playing in the woods in Alaska; when I arrived in Oregon I was a fish out of water. The kids in my new school loved two things and two things only: sports (which I had never played) and video games (which I couldn’t afford). Not to mention, my social skills were lacking. I frequently tried to reinvent my image, my group of friends, and my hobbies, but nothing ever felt like me. The other kids treated me like an outsider because they thought I was different. They were right—I was different. I dreamt of a world outside my little rain-soaked suburban bubble. I’d fantasize about a glamorous career and all the amazing costumes I would wear one day. I thought that if I wished hard enough, perhaps I would fall down the rabbit hole and find myself in a decadent world beyond my wildest dreams. And Norma Jeane Mortenson did that—didn’t she? She escaped her boring existence and became Marilyn Monroe. Quickly, my fascination with the star escalated. Every Sunday morning, I would grab the newspaper and pull out the TV guide. My eyes would scan over the programming list searching for the titles of any of her movies listed in the book. The first one I finally came across was Bus Stop (1956). I set up our family VHS player to record it when my parents weren’t looking. They let me keep the paper dolls, but they didn’t really care for Madonna or Marilyn or such frivolous fascinations. I found that first film a little dull—some of the nuances in Bus Stop went right over my nine-year-old head. After all, they couldn’t always spell everything out in the 1950s. As weeks became months, my VHS collection grew and I became acquainted with most of Monroe’s better-known pictures. How to Marry a Millionaire quickly became my favorite, mainly for the campy 1950s fashions on screen. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. I’m almost embarrassed to admit that because of the film’s title, but the title and plot had nothing to do with why I liked it. I loved the three main characters. They were just too irresistible: model roommates played by Lauren Bacall (the smart one), Marilyn (the romantic one), and Betty Grable (the athletic one who always said what was on her mind). As for Marilyn herself, I was absolutely enchanted with the glamorous creature whose beauty transcended the small television set in my family’s living room. On screen, she appeared to have everything she ever dreamed of: fame, beauty, fortune, and, of course, love. Someday I’ll know what it’s like, I thought. Someday I’ll know what it’s like to have it all. 2002 If I just put my head under the water and take a deep breath in, it would all be over, I thought. The bathroom was empty as I swam alone in the giant marble tub. The air was chilly inside the mansion walls, with a draft that always seemed to rustle through the rooms. I pulled my shoulders under the
Page 3 and 4: DEDICATION TO MY FA MI LY, WH O I N
Page 5 and 6: CONTENTS Dedication Epigraph The Pl
Page 10 and 11: AUTHOR’S NOTE Don’t you miss th
Page 14 and 15: warm water and rested my stoned eye
Page 16 and 17: CHAPTER 1 “Begin at the beginning
Page 18 and 19: experience with a tanning bed. I wa
Page 20 and 21: It wound up being six years—and a
Page 22 and 23: After a short time in the city, I s
Page 24 and 25: to these types of events. Working t
Page 26 and 27: less prestigious “minor pictorial
Page 28 and 29: Rebel Wilson and her on-screen brot
Page 30 and 31: would have thought Hugh Hefner pref
Page 32 and 33: I laughed nervously—unsure of wha
Page 34 and 35: achieved two goals at once: not onl
Page 36 and 37: flat-out told him that I had no pla
Page 38 and 39: “So,” he said, his voice much f
Page 40 and 41: period” would come to an abrupt e
Page 42 and 43: “boyfriend,” and like the socia
Page 44 and 45: your breakfast routine. “Hang out
Page 46 and 47: my dreams so much easier, but that
Page 48 and 49: CHAPTER 4 “Now, here, you see, it
Page 50 and 51: phrase “keep your enemies close
Page 52 and 53: girlfriend. With my clothing allowa
Page 54 and 55: myself that no two people are exact
Page 56 and 57: Playboy—and we had to keep up the
Page 58 and 59: discuss the idea with Hef. I was un
Page 60 and 61: stupid and I never forgot how they
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the pool area handing out shiny bea
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CHAPTER 5 Alice thought the whole t
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continued her story on her own. “
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Eventually, I learned more about th
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For a small fortune, Vicky would se
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which luckily proved to be short-li
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house) for the A-list clubs to be b
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maybe if I became famous I would ha
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acquiesced. Wow, I thought. I was f
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fortune. Boy, was I wrong. There ha
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prop pipe (say that three times fas
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During a trip to New York City for
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“Darlin’?” Hef asked, appeari
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so long, this box was my nemesis, a
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the Easter event wearing jeans and
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pictorial on the ‘Painted Ladies,
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Slowly he made his way to his newes
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trademark on GND was something she
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CHAPTER 8 “We’re all mad here.
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subconscious crap to surface, but l
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THE FIRST EPISODE OF The Girls Next
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“People assume that I came here w
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messy room (which was tidied up sub
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date. It is not about any of you.
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ecognized many of the absurdities o
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CHAPTER 9 “It’s rather curious,
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waste a single minute. From Pompeii
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out of a fairy tale. I didn’t kno
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Photo Editor. I was assigned to the
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CHAPTER 10 “I can’t help it,”
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my loyalty to the brand, though. As
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long as I walked my butt down to th
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though she was offered a role in th
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lashed out at the other girls from
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myself. I had tried to rationalize
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the phone. “We’re on a tight sc
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into a thoughtful expression, he sa
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CHAPTER 11 “Why, sometimes I’ve
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large booth, already populated with
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Times Square) Criss was, at that ti
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stunned and seething. How dare he h
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outside it appeared as though my wi
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my bunny tattoo as well. “No one,
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portrayed as, it was important that
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CHAPTER 12 “She’s my prisoner,
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scattered even farther in different
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and . . .” “Ha!” he shouted i
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to believe we had a shot at making
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disappointed to learn that, just an
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mansion walls, I was Rapunzel locke
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Criss insisted that I be present fo
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CHAPTER 13 For, you see, so many ou
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2. Star in a Las Vegas show. 3. App
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affirmation I was getting from him
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Trashy Lingerie corset. (Of course,
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most of my adult life at the mansio
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Kristina reiterated that Crystal wa
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of my life. To celebrate, I traded
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and rereading the text. So many pet
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CHAPTER 15 “If I had a world of m
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outique and spied the Holly, Bridge
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Meanwhile, I was taking Las Vegas b
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“We loved Girls Next Door,” her
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seasons and GND fading quietly into
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Las Vegas for Hope’s Playmate of
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Laura. She spent most of her time a
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AS SEASON TWO OF Holly’s World wr
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Crystal did a crazy interview with
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CHAPTER 17 “It’s no use going b
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encouraged me to tell her about my
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like without the marriage and child
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things must come to an end. “RAIN
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have ever found them. But let that
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Age 15, at cheerleading camp. (Pers
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Bridget (left) and Kendra (right) b
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Behind the scenes of our second cov
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Performing in Peepshow. (Denise Tru
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Filming Holly’s World in Mexico.
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Engaged! (Chris Clinton) Our weddin
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS “There ought to b
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CREDITS Cover design by Amanda Kain
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ABOUT THE PUBLISHER Australia Harpe
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Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

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