£100k tips, quick maths and blokes staring at my eye-popping cleavage… what happened when I became a Playboy bunny for the day

STANDING in front of a floor-length mirror in giant satin bunny ears, a cleavage-enhancing corset and a white fluffy tail, I barely recognise my reflection.

I’m about to embark on my first shift at the Playboy Club London, Hugh Hefner’s hedonistic Mayfair haven – think plush velvet turquoise sofas, a marble bar and polished gold interiors – that’s been open since 2011.

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“Dayum girl, look at that waist!” Feyi Scott-Oviosa, the club’s violet-haired chief seamstress, kindly coos as I nervously apply another layer of Mac’s Ruby Woo lipstick.

I need all the reassurance I can get when I’m about to step out in the iconic, custom-made outfit everyone from Kate Moss to Marilyn Monroe and Pamela Anderson has worn.

I fear I look more like Bridget Jones heading to her ‘tarts and vicars’ fancy dress party.

The 70-strong staff get ready in the aptly-named Hutch - a millennial girl’s dream with bubblegum-pink walls and light-up Hollywood-style vanity mirrors.

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On the door, just before you leave to start your shift, is a mirror with the outline of a ‘Perfect Bunny’ on it.

Rules include: ears should be worn at all times (‘human’ ears should not be shown), make-up should include foundation, blusher, smoky eyes and false lashes, and your costume must be clean and well-fitting.

Ears should be worn at all times - ‘human’ ears should not be shown

The once glamorous Playboy fell out of favour in the early Noughties but is on the cusp of a revival – a New Year club opened last year, Jordan Emanuel has just been named the first African-American Playmate of the Year and the brand recently collaborated with Missguided on a clothing range.

The club, which compromises a bar, restaurant and casino, is open 24 hours a day, 364 days a year – they only close on Christmas Day - and its clear its popularity isn't waning.

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Strolling around the club's members area, the clientele appears to be smartly-dressed men in tailored suits, aged late 20s to early 40s, with the kind of sharp haircuts and shiny watches only money can buy.

The multiple accents having animated conversations over freshly-served cocktails testify to a very international crowd - I'm told many customers are from the Middle East, China and the United States.

I shake my tail fluff as I enter the Tale Bar, and I instantly feel male eyes descend on my carefully-carved waist, bum and chest.

I instantly feel male eyes descend on my carefully-carved waist, bum and chest

Quickly, I realise that when you're dressed like a sultry bunny rabbit you can't exactly blend into the background - something my normally shy self would instinctively want to do.

But I was reassured by the fact that these guys were actually admiring a walking, talking version of the alluring Playboy fantasy - rather than plain old me.

I was playing a very glamorous role - and boy was I planning to have some fun.

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Bunnies work in two roles, the first is an entry-level Bunny Valet who wears a red corset– a kind of waitress in charge of making drinks and chatting with customers.

Eda, a dark-haired Bunny, takes me through the three poses every Valet needs to know: the Bunny Stance (how to stand while waiting for service), the Bunny Dip (where you half-curtsey to place a drink on the table so you don’t bend over and serve an eyeful of cleavage), and the Bunny Perch (the fluffy white bunny tails stop you being able to sit).

I fear I'll end up on the shiny floor but comfort myself with the thought the fluffy tail can soften my landing

It’s classy stuff, but surely after the standard eight-hour shift (which can start as early as 6am and see you serve up to 300 drinks) you’ve built a core and thighs as steely as a cocktail shaker?

I wobble around in my heels as I try desperately to copy her slickly-executed footwork. At one point I fear I'll end up on the shiny floor and comfort myself with the thought the fluffy tail can soften my landing).

I can't help but notice men staring non-stop at my chest - thanks to the figure-hugging corset - but I don't fear any embarrassing nips slips thanks to how secure the outfit is.

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Then there’s the Bunny Croupiers, who wear a blue corset. They undergo an intense eight weeks' training regime and serve upstairs in the exclusive casino area – where the likes of Anthony Joshua, Justin Bieber, Drake and Stevie Wonder drop their cash.

Anyone can apply for membership, which costs £1,200 a year plus a £1,000 joining fee - or £15,000 for lifetime membership (I'm not surprised the club's casino area was heaving on a Friday afternoon).

A curly-haired Bunny called Shannon demonstrates in the even more luxurious Sal Privé (where I’m informed millions of pounds have been won) how you need to put down and pick up your chips – and know your 17 and 35 times tables – without batting an eyelid, “because you’ve got to keep a close eye on the game”.

I've always been proud of my A grade in maths A-level, but knowing that 17 multiplied by 35 equals 595 - like the Bunnies are expected to recall in a split-second - was beyond me. This time it was a big fat F grade for me.

“The biggest misconception about Bunnies is they’re not very smart – but these aren’t just pretty girls in a costume,” says Feyi.

The Bunny Dealers seem to mesmerise the men with a quick flick of the wrist

I’m surprised to learn that the Bunnies aren’t models, actresses or singers, but bankers, data analysts, students studying law and neuroscience, DJs, personal trainers, mums and many with their own businesses.

Forget Instagram stardom, being a Bunny seems to be the ultimate #sidehustle – and a minimum figure of £40k for those working part-time, including tips which range from £5 to a staggering £100,000, is floated.

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“A lot of the girls work Monday to Friday, but there are others who work the weekend as a second job,” explains Natalie, the Head Bunny, who joined the club seven years ago and worked her way up to the top job where she sorts the rota and looks after the girls (“like Bunny HR”).

“We appeal to mums who want to work while their kids sleep, and students because of our flexibility.”

Even more intriguing is how the gorgeous Bunnies come in all shapes, sizes, heights, ages and ethnicities – there’s more diversity than most offices.

A Bunny can earn the minimum of £40K working part-time - and that's before the hefty tips

“We’re after a girl next door,” says Natalie. “But for us it’s as much about personality as looks.”

She proudly tells me her Bunnies range in age from 18 and 40, and from a size 6 to size 14.

“I’m not exactly skinny,” she notes, gesturing at her enviable real Kardashian-esque curves and supermodel-length pins. “It’s a myth you must have lip fillers, a boob job and be tiny.”

However, having gone under the knife will not stop you from being hired.

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But if the Bunnies around me have had surgery or fillers, they must have good doctors, because these girls look like striking natural beauties.

Love Island this is not, but getting dolled up is a must. A 40 per cent Mac discount helps fund all those bottles of foundation, my spray tan by made me feel right at home, and when I pop to get my lashes done at  in Soho I’m told the Bunnies are regulars.

This is first time, in a long while, I've been able to unashamedly embrace feeling womanly

It’s clear they enjoy the femininity of being a Bunny – and I’m loving it too.

While in other walks of life - offices, the street, bars - getting dressed up to the nines in a figure-hugging ensemble is either frowned upon, perceived as making you less intelligent or risks unwanted attention, this is first time, in a long while, I've been able to unashamedly embrace feeling womanly.

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However, it was a very different picture painted by Gloria Steinem painted when she went undercover at the New York club to pen ‘A Bunny’s Tale’ for Show magazine in 1963.

She bemoaned the persistence of the 1950s hourglass aesthetic – moulded by boning she said made the costume so tight that it makes the girls’ legs numb from pressing on a nerve.

The average Bunnies bra cup size is a ‘C'

But, thanks to the mastery of Feyi, the custom-made costume is one of the most comfy things I’ve ever worn. She takes them in and out if the girls change shape – usually after Christmas and summer holidays.

As sole seamstress she's made more than 600 costumes in seven years. Each takes a minimum of three hours to make, and she now remembers most of the girls’ measurements – the average bra cup size is a ‘C’. The Bunnies can stuff their bras with made-to-measure padding if they fancy a boost.

“I want to create the illusion of curves – so I’ll cut the costume higher than the hips to lengthen the legs and position the waist so it’s smaller than the shoulders,” she adds.

DIY breast-enhancements aside, I feel seriously glamorous – even after my shift draws to a close.

My feet are a little sore, but not so bad that I’m tempted to copy past Bunnies who would rub their heels against cold cans of coke to soothe them (no more are the strict requirements for three-inch heels – these days they get two-inch polished pairs from M&S).

So how does being a Bunny fit into a #metoo era where feminism has never felt stronger?

“We get stick for wearing the costume and getting all glammed up, but we’re not forced to be here,” counters Natalie.

“I feel sexy and empowered when I put on the costume. It’s one of the most iconic looks in the world, and we’re part of the Playboy history.”

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She cites girl power as tremendous at the club, where there is a supportive sisterhood and which is one of the few businesses industry where females out-earn males.

Natalie leads me through the casino to backstage at Playboy HQ (which, incredibly, looks like an average office space) to show me the Bunny Of The Month winners posing for photo shoots on a board, and last year’s Bunny Of The Year who nabbed a trip to the US.

As I finish off my shift, I see the gorgeous, skilled Bunny Dealers hard at work – mesmerising the male club members who hang off their every word.

A group of men huddle round like excited schoolboys as they pose for photos with two Bunny Valets.

I get my own taste when a customer strolls up to me and politely asks me directions to the terrace.

It dawns on me that the respect for women is likely to be far higher in the club than most public spaces where there aren’t plenty of security around to ward off handsy guys.

In fact, while the atmosphere is fun, friendly and just a little bit flirty (how could it not be in those outfits), it seems like the kind of environment where customers know to not go too far - and there are rules members have to abide by.

However, I'm sure it feel pretty tempting to pinch those tails - or perhaps it's just me.

Sure, it felt good to take off my costume – like any other work day – but I still retained that “inner glow” Feyi talked about as I stopped off to buy dinner on the way to the tube (the Pret guys who gave me a free meal seemed to agree).

As the Playboy saying goes, once a Bunny, always a Bunny.

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