Holly Madison Quotes

I won't apologize for the choices I made, because all of them brought me to the wonderful place I am today.

sometimes you try so hard to fit in that you almost forget it’s all an act.

Maybe I wasn’t defined by the mistakes I had made after all . . . maybe those decisions were what allowed me to become the person I was always destined to be.

I always thought it would be classy to not kiss and tell . . . but after a while you just get sick of having other people trying to tell your story for you.

Like Beauty locked up in the Beast’s castle, I developed my own brand of Stockholm syndrome, identifying with my captor.

But let that not be the moral of my story. True happiness doesn't come from simply getting married. I don't believe a woman's worth should be measured by whether or not she's married.

In a few short months, I had gone from a friendly, optimistic, confident woman to a confused girl with a nervous stammer who second-guessed every thought that went through her head and rationalized every bad decision she made.

She’s my prisoner, you know!” the Red Knight said at last.… “I don’t know,” Alice said doubtfully. “I don’t want to be anyone’s prisoner. I want to be a Queen.” —Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass

That's one of the things about Hef: when it came to humiliating his girlfriends, the larger the audience, the better.

Like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, she guzzled down the vodka in hopes that Hef would feel that urge to rescue her or care for her.

This old man had just humiliated me - and I sat there taking his ridicule like a child. I curled up on the vanity stool and sobbed for what felt like forever, in the one little corner of this whole giant mansion that was supposed to be my own.

Maybe I wasn't defined by the mistakes I had made after all...maybe those decisions were what allowed me to become the person I was always destined to be.

It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.

I loved my new friends, but they were just that: new. I was still rushing around to find more, more, more to bring into my orbit, things that could fill the hole inside that came from having lost touch with old friends and lacking a solid emotional foundation underneath me.

I tried to play off my outburst as having been touched by the romantic moment (and I think most people bought it!), but in reality I was crying because of what a farce this whole thing was and how stretched thin my nerves were at that moment. Hef reading off the flowing words of love from the card reminded me again what a joke this whole situation was and made me feel like I had missed out on my chance to ever have anything real with someone; to ever meet a man who really deserved a card like that. I had sold my soul to the devil and felt that there was no way out.

When I received my glossy black invitation in the mail a few days later, I could feel my heart swell with excitement. “Hef’s Midsummer Night’s Dream Party,” it read. On the front was a beautiful pinup illustration by famed artist Olivia De Berardinis and inside was a small piece of paper with directions. It was like Cinderella finally scoring an invitation to the ball—except instead of arriving by horse-drawn carriage, we would board a shuttle at a UCLA parking garage.

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

In passing the mansion looks decadent but when taking the time to truly look at some of the nooks and crannies, it's amazing how neglected it was.

Hef holds the Guinness Book of World Records title for largest scrapbook collection at over 2,000 volumes.

I believe that many sacrifices need to be made in order to do your best as a parent, but I also believe you don't have to abandon your whole life.

Marriage and family are certainly beautiful parts of life, but I believe those things can truly be appreciated only when we find, love, and respect ourselves first.

While there was a part of me that acknowledged the idiocy and superficiality that surrounded me, I fell for the glamour: hook, line, and sinker. It took years for me to realize just how manipulated and used I had been. I could never admit that to myself at the time, because to do so would have been to acknowledge how dark and scary a situation I was in . . . and how very little in control I was.

As an LA transplant the concept of being fake was still a bit lost on me. Don’t get me wrong. I was familiar with fake tans, fake nails and of course fake boobs having already undergone my breast enhancement surgery but I didn’t have any idea how insincere and calculated people can be. It never dawned on me that the girls I was about to be spending a lot of time with had ulterior motives beyond simply being friendly and that all of their encouragement was just for show. As I’d come to learn, they saw me as a useful pawn in their twisted game of Playboy chess.

A doorman peers up at the rain from under an awning. We reach Madison, where Holly waits in the drizzle while I stand in the doorway of a boutique, watching that dog walker, those Hasidic Jews, the Arab-looking businessman over there. A couple of cabs slow down, hoping to lure a fare, but Holly is gazing into the small green rectangle of Central Park at the far end of the block. Her mind must be in turmoil. To write a memoir in which psychic events irrupt occasionally is one thing, but for psychic events to dreamseed you, serve you Irish tea, and spin you a whole cosmology, that’s another. Maybe Ōshima’s right; maybe I should suasion her back to 119A.

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

Yeah,” I said, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to melt away. “They say they don’t take colored hair, but my hair is really strong and it was super long, so I sent like 20 inches off in case they could turn it into a wig or something.” It was the most I had said in hours . . . maybe days. Something about this girl allowed me to relax. I didn’t feel like I needed to be on guard and I could sense that she genuinely wanted to be my friend. “Oh, that’s so sweet! I’ve always wanted to do that,” she cooed before sticking her hand out in front of me. “I know we’ve met before, but I’m Bridget.” “I’m Holly,” I said, a smile taking over my

(By the way, I always found the winner to be a nice person. I suppose she was a little more honest and blunt than the rest of the contestants, hence the “bitch” label that people like to throw onto assertive women.)

But like all that glitters and sparkles, this opportunity wouldn’t come without a steep price.

It was like a high-stakes version of teenage politics: sometimes you try so hard to fit in that you almost forget it’s all an act.

The madam was arrested in 2007 and revealed details about her global hooking empire during the Rolling Stone interview, but Playboy—and Hef—had known about the racket for years. In fact, Hef even launched his own private investigation into the matter in hopes of shutting down Nici’s Girls and other agencies standing on the shoulders of the Playboy name. The hypocrisy here is palpable. Considering Hef kept his own “harem” of sorts, it’s easy to see the mansion as a gateway to hooking. But Hef was determined to plug this leak—not necessarily for the benefit of the girls, I believe, but to maintain Playboy’s image. It wouldn’t look that good if a majority of Playmates graduated to sex for pay. Playboy was supposed to be “classy,” after all.

We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” “How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice. “You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.” —Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

I suppose she was a little more honest and blunt than the rest of the contestants, hence the “bitch” label that people like to throw onto assertive women.)

I didn’t enjoy living in the past. I was young and living for the present and future.

And like they say: when you know, you just know.

He seemed like a good man and talked as if he wanted the world for his girls. But like all that glitters and sparkles, this opportunity wouldn’t come without a steep price. “Would you like a Quaalude?” Hef asked, leaning towards me with a bunch of large horse pills in his hands, held together by a crumpled tissue.

Hef was a notoriously lecherous 70-something old man offering me Quaaludes that he referred to as “thigh openers.” Are you kidding me? Why didn’t I run for the nearest exit? It doesn’t get much creepier than that.

No one,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “will ever love you as much as I do.” He enunciated the sentence slowly, as if he were making a grand speech. I had no words. Instead, I gave him a friendly hug in order to avoid actually speaking to him. I know he was trying to sound romantic, as if he were pledging his undying love, but to me his comment sounded like a slight. I knew I deserved better—and there’s no way his kind of love was the best the world had to offer.

While there was a part of me that acknowledged the idiocy and superficiality that surrounded me, I fell for the glamour: hook, line, and sinker.

I had to believe that there was a greater purpose for the choices I had made: whether it was to help advance my career or whether it was truly for love. And depending on the month, the week, and sometimes even the hour of the day, I would waffle back and forth between precisely why I was living a life as nothing more than 'Girlfriend Number One' to a man who was old enough to be my grandfather. I didn't want to admit that I had sold a bit of my soul for the chance at fame.

I made a list of the things I still hoped to accomplish in my life and career. Being able to see my goals spelled out in front of me was an important part of the process.

Beyond honored, I modeled many of Marilyn’s personal items, which I recognized from famous photos of the star: a white terry cloth bathrobe, an orange Pucci top,

As he went in for an embrace, I clearly opted for the ass-out “bro hug

All of my life, I was an over-the-top romantic, but by 32 years old I had become pretty disillusioned. I’d often wonder what I did wrong. It seemed that spending my 20s at the mansion had caused me to miss out on meeting “the one.

Hef was a notoriously lecherous 70-something old man offering me Quaaludes that he referred to as “thigh openers.

The only thing Hef loved more than the mansion was himself.

That’s one of the things about Hef: when it came to humiliating his girlfriends, the larger the audience, the better.

Playboy Enterprises (a public company at the time) owned the mansion. Not Hef. In order to live there, he had to pay a monthly rent on every room he and his girlfriends occupied. People may find it surprising that Hugh Hefner is nothing more than a tenant renting his room at the mansion,

anyone who was part of an old man’s harem and treated like a brainless idiot would be depressed.

there is something Hugh Hefner loves more than sex, and that’s fame.

Hef, never missing a chance to paint me as ugly,

an old man running like crazy on the treadmill that was “life at the mansion,” desperate to live up to his image.