Coldwater Canyon, Celebrity Avenue


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“The first Playboy party I attended was in 1983. We discussed the dress code, which meant lingerie for her and pajamas for me. I had trouble believing that we would drive up to the Playboy mansion and everybody else would actually be dressed that way.

It was our first year back in LA and I was living in West Hollywood when we received our invitation to one of Hef’s annual Midsummer Night’s Dream parties. Diana talked about it excitedly for days—who was going to be there, and so on. My attitude was more like “Okay, I’m ready!” We discussed the dress code, which meant lingerie for her and pajamas for me. I had trouble believing that we would drive up to the Playboy mansion and everybody else would actually be dressed that way. To me, a suspicious, streetwise New Yorker, it felt like a hoax. And what if I got pulled over by a cop and he asked me to get out and I was in my pajamas and a robe and Diana was in lingerie? Anyway, where was I going to put my wallet and money?

After some discussion, we did it anyway. I was game. On the evening of the party, we got to the mansion and drove up the long driveway. In those days, they didn’t have the security that they have today, with the shuttle buses and the checkpoints. The valet took my blue Mercedes off our hands and we joined a line of pajama and lingerie-clad revelers.

The dress code was clearly being honored by all.

I remember walking through the door of Hef’s place, and noticing on the left a painting of Dalí’s melting clocks, one of the series. Hef certainly had taste.”

Coldwater Canyon, Celebrity Avenue, Chapter 19