Hugh Hefner’s Playboy mansion more like a squalid prison say former Playmates
I’m not even sure I ought to post this tabloid page, but the story is fascinating, and sad.
Life in the Playboy Mansion is amazingly pitiful and tacky, way beyond even what I had imagined life would be like for these girls.
Here’s a snippet from the middle of the full story:
‘Hef also eventually permitted us to have the rooms painted and recarpeted. But for some reason he insisted on creamy, white-coloured carpets. He liked the girlfriends’ rooms to look very girly, all white carpet and pink walls.
‘It looked great at first, but with two dogs (most of the girlfriends had pets that lived in their rooms — I had two pugs), butlers delivering food, dirty shoes and occasional spillages, the carpet was grey and stained in a matter of months.’
She adds: ‘But then Hef was used to dirty carpets. The one in his bedroom had not been changed for years, and things became significantly worse when Holly Madison moved into his room with him as Girlfriend No. 1 soon after I moved in, bringing her two dogs.
‘They weren’t house-trained and would just do their business on the bedroom carpet. Late at night, or in the early hours of the morning — if any of us visited Hef’s bedroom — we’d almost always end up standing in dog mess.
‘Everything in the Mansion felt old and stale, and Archie the house dog would regularly relieve himself on the hallway curtains, adding a powerful whiff of urine to the general scent of decay.’
Many girls, it seems, endured these living conditions for the chance of becoming a centrefold in Playboy magazine — an invaluable career boost for any glamour model.
Others admitted that they stayed only for the cosmetic surgery to which Hefner treated them as a birthday presents, keeping a running account with a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon.
Legendary lover: Hugh Hefner has a reputation for the high life, yet it seems many of his former ‘girlfriends’ have become disenchanted with life in the harem
But St James — with big university debts — was more interested in the weekly pocket money which Hefner paid all his girlfriends. ‘Every Friday morning we had to go to Hef’s room, wait while he picked up all the dog poo off the carpet — and then ask for our allowance: a thousand dollars counted out in crisp hundred-dollar bills from a safe in one of his bookcases,’ she says.
The story goes on to describe the strict schedule and curfews they live under, and the demands placed on them in twice-weekly “parties” in Hef’s bedroom.
Such a sad story, I’m amazed that any of these gorgeous ladies would agree to be a part of something like this, some of them for years, apparently.