Life & Work with Allie Markova of Los Angeles ,CA

Today we’d like to introduce you to Allie Markova.

Hi Allie, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
Okay! So I’m a first-generation American. My mom’s from the Azores, my dad’s Russian, and I grew up in this very old-school Massachusetts town filled with antique shops, cemeteries, and people who think salt is spicy. I was a really shy kid—quiet, dreamy, always off in my own little world. I loved ballet, horses, old movies, and anything that felt whimsical and a little magical.

I dreamed about being like Shirley Temple and Marilyn Monroe. I wanted their confidence. I loved how they sparkled and radiated joy in a world that wasn’t always bright for me. My bedroom looked like Valley of the Dolls met The Brady Bunch, and yes, I had a Donny Osmond poster. Obviously. I collected antique dolls, watched vintage television like it was going out of style, and completely fell in love with the fantasy of it all.

Barbie was my forever icon. So were Bond girls, especially Miss Moneypenny and Honey Ryder. I fantasized about being beautiful, of course, but I also fantasized about living a really interesting life. One filled with experiences I could learn from. I never wanted to have to pick just one thing. I wanted to try it all, feel it all, see what I was capable of. I think a lot of that came from watching my family start over from scratch. It showed me that you can build the life you want, even if it looks completely different from everyone else’s.

So I tried everything. I trained mountain lions at a zoo. I worked in a high-security psych hospital. I became a  funeral director and worked at the same cemetery where Marilyn Monroe and Hugh Hefner are buried, which felt surreal in the best way. I always saw that work as less of a grim reaper and more of an angel of death. I wasn’t there to be morbid. I was there to bring comfort. To say, I can’t undo this, but I can make sure your loved one is treated with care and grace, and that you are too.

After mortuary school, I moved to LA to start my career and soak up the sunshine like a normal pastel-colored human being. Two months later, Covid hit. Suddenly I was 3,000 miles away from home, completely alone, and thrown into this crash course on death, grief, and trying to stay grounded. I was helping families say goodbye through masks and glass while quietly dealing with my own health issues and loss.

And in all that stillness, I realized something. I had never actually gone after my dream. The glittery, expressive, performative one. I had always loved acting, singing, dancing, telling stories. I took classes. I created characters. I choreographed little performances in my bedroom. But I also grew up in a practical home where that kind of dream was something you admired from afar—not something you actually did. So I shelved it.

Until one day I asked myself, what if I didn’t? What if I just asked?

So I did. I reached out to agencies. I messaged brands. I took a deep breath, put on some lip gloss, and decided to go for it. And the first brand that said yes to me was Playboy. I couldn’t believe it. I grew up loving The Girls Next Door, idolizing Holly Madison and Barbi Benton, and suddenly I wasn’t just watching—I was in the story.

And that’s when I knew. This wasn’t a detour. This was the beginning.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
don’t talk about my health much, mostly because I’m a pretty cheerful person and I live a fun, full, kind of sparkly life. But I was born with a connective tissue disorder called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. In my case, it primarily affects my heart. I have a congenital defect in the shape of my heart and its valves, so I’ve always had to be a little extra mindful about what I put my body through. I also have something called mast cell activation syndrome, which basically means my immune system can be a bit dramatic at times.

During the height of Covid, I was working in a funeral home doing intense, physical labor. I was on my feet for long hours, lifting, moving, handling everything with care while the world was in chaos. It was important work, but it took a real toll on me physically. My heart symptoms worsened, and I had some pretty serious health setbacks and hospitalizations. It was scary. But I got through it, and I kept showing up. Because I always do.

It’s meant a lot to me to see visibility in people like Halsey, who’s also spoken about having Ehlers-Danlos. It helps to know there are others out there quietly navigating the same things. I don’t want sympathy. I live a mostly normal life and I’m proud of how I manage it. But if someone else out there has this and feels like they can’t go after their dreams, I want to say you absolutely can. Sometimes it takes more planning and more patience and a little more hustle. But it’s worth it. Always.

In 2019, just six months before I moved to California, I lost my cousin. He was murdered. I’m now the same age he was when he passed. We had a lot in common and he was a huge source of support for me during a really difficult time. He was the kind of person who made everything feel lighter. The comedic relief, the bright spot. Losing someone like that shakes your world. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. It’s strange when the person who always made everyone laugh is suddenly gone. For me, humor became the only way to keep going. I write jokes. I’ve contributed to network pilots and comedy scripts. Making people laugh when everything hurts is still one of the most healing things I know.

There are other things I’ve been through too. Things I’m not always ready to talk about publicly. I had a really tough time growing up. I was bullied very badly all through school. My home life wasn’t a happy one, and some days I truly don’t know how I made it out. But I did. And that’s mostly because of kind, cheerful girls who took me under their wing. Girls who saw that I was shy and unsure of myself and decided to lift me up anyway. They taught me what confidence looked like. They showed me how to shine.

There was one moment I’ll never forget. I was in middle school, sitting in class while two girls were making fun of me. It wasn’t subtle. They were whispering and laughing and rolling their eyes at everything I did. I was shy. I didn’t dress like the popular girls. I knew I stuck out, and not in a good way. And just when I was trying to disappear into my chair, this substitute teacher walked over to me. Her name was Mrs. Schober. She was older and elegant and reminded me of someone who belonged in an old black-and-white movie. She looked right at me and told me to hold my head up. She said one day I’d be accepting my Oscar and I wouldn’t even remember those girls’ names. And for some reason, I believed her. It was one of the first times an adult stood up for me in a way that felt real. Like she saw something in me I didn’t see yet. I’ll always remember her and what she said. And while I haven’t accepted any Oscars just yet, she was right. I don’t remember those names. Not even close.

And honestly? YouTube beauty tutorials may have saved me. Learning how to do my makeup in high school completely changed the way I saw myself. I wasn’t born confident or camera-ready. I’ve never had work done or anything like that. But I really believe beauty is something you can learn. It’s a form of expression. It’s a little bit of magic. It’s just polishing a diamond. I didn’t grow up thinking I was the pretty girl. But I learned how to feel beautiful. And eventually, I learned how to believe it.

Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
So what have I been up to? A little bit of everything, honestly. I’ve written comedy for shows at clubs like Flappers and The Hollywood Improv, which has been so much fun. There’s something really magical about hearing a room laugh at a joke you wrote. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

I also just submitted my very first feature-length horror comedy to the festival circuit. It’s called Somebody’s Baby, and I’m really proud of it. The script came from a short story I wrote years ago, inspired by a night out gone totally off the rails in Rhode Island. It’s weird and funny and chaotic in the best way. I worked so hard on it, and even if it only ever lives in people’s inboxes, I’m thrilled it exists.

I model too. I’ve worked with brands like Playboy and Maxim, and I recently earned an interview with the judges for Maxim’s Covergirl competition. The prize is pretty amazing—$100,000, a European photoshoot, and a $50,000 donation to the charity of your choice. I chose Rescue City because of my dog, Clover. She was rescued through Angels of Rawley Foundation in California. She’d been horribly abused and was saved on her euthanasia date. Now she’s this sweet, snuggly, soft little angel who brings so much joy to everyone she meets. It cost $300 to take her home. Fifty thousand dollars could change so many lives just like hers.

It’s Hollywood, so, I act too. I’ve trained seriously over the years, and you might have seen me on screen if you paused the movie at the right second and said, “Wait, is that ‘attractive woman’?” Or maybe in a national commercial as “striking blonde.” Either way, I’m out there.

I’ve also hosted events like the Babes in Toyland charity gala, and I spent years doing ambassador work with the World Wildlife Fund. I still volunteer with the Polly Klaas Foundation, which supports families of missing children. That work has meant a lot to me.

And the truth is, I don’t totally know what’s next. I think that’s part of the fun. I like trying things. I like saying yes. I want to tell stories and make people laugh and bring some light into weird places. I want to rescue more dogs and write more scripts and wear cute outfits while doing both. Whatever comes next, I’ll be ready—with lip gloss, curiosity, and Clover by my side.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://Alliemarkova.com
• Instagram: https://Instagram.com/alliemarkova
• Other: https://Playboy.com/alliemarkova