Candyland - WELCOME TO THE FERAL, FREAKY WORLD OF BROOKE CANDY
All I want is to go to Brooke Candy’s house. I imagine some insane Beverly Hills mansion with black roses lining a perfectly manicured driveway. The “butler” will be some glamazon goddess wearing a necklace of live snakes. Then on my way there I get a text. “Change of location. Meet Brooke at studio.” What? I punch in the new address as my dreams evaporate into freeway smog. “It’s not a big deal,” I assure myself. “I won’t even bring it up.”
Within 30 seconds of meeting Brooke Candy I bring it up. Candy has a dainty, Betty Boop face. Her smile spreads from cheek to cheek like wildfire, fire being key because Candy is both hot and warm. “Do you have a car?” She asks. “You can see my house after the interview… if you drive me.” Brooke Candy – hustler to the core – needs a ride home.
Brooke Candy (her real name) is from Agoura Hills, California. Her parents divorced when she was eight; her mother worked as a pediatric nurse and her dad, more famously, as the CFO of Hustler. Candy recalls being a little kid and hanging out in Larry Flynt’s office: “[It was] so gaudy and amazing. I’d eat ice cream and watch TV and just go from that to being with my mom, who had nothing. It was strange… It’s this whole idea of duality that I’m just obsessed with.”