Porn Star Look

I was watching a TV show about transsexuals the other day and it got me to thinking about porn star looks. I am intrigued by how transsexuals paint their faces. Especially the pre op ones who often make livelihoods from porn and other adult themed affairs. After all they have lived as both man and woman. They are women who have the privileged insight of knowing genuinely what a man really wants and likes. So is this Barbie face and fashion really what men find attractive deep down or are they just copying what is routine of their industry/culture? Being the complete opposite of “the effortless” look maybe it’s about who worked the hardest to create their image.

As if I haven’t already expressed this enough, porn is all about fantasy land and so I suppose that’s why the porno look is so exaggerated and OTT because it’s a fantasy look abit like the fantasy look of little green men in a sci fi movie.

Big blue eyes, big hair, perfect large tits, legs that go on forever, tiny waists, make up applied with a shot gun. Although this last one is debatable as I’ve only ever heard one guy say he likes make up on women. He wanted to pay me to sit in front of a web cam whilst he watched and apply heavy heavy make up with big red lips. I’m sure this act in itself is a fetish somewhere along the way.

I think it’s more the norm for men to prefer the au natural look but there is no questioning that make up accentuates a woman’s features and so smokey come to bed eyes with rouged cheeks, thick lashes and plump red lips could be derivative of this.

If you put a sagging pair of lopsided tits next to a firm round buxom and perfectly formed pair of double Fs naturally your mind will select the later as the better as its aesthetically more pleasing.

When comparing opposite ends of the glamour spectrum Jordan and Dita Von Teese one can argue both have the makeup applied with a shot gun look yet one is labelled demure, stylish and chic and the other slutty and trashy. In my mind I would say Ditas look is more appealing to women and Jordan’s to men. Both try to emphasize a woman’s beauty through glamour with the contrasts simply fashioned from different eras.

Interestingly id say transgender that don’t work in the adult entertainment business and modestly try to live a down to earth and “typical” lifestyle adopt a more Dita look.

Porn style as well as porn in general seems to be one area where more is more. More cock, more tits, more spunk, more noise, just... more!

All performers have a wardrobe to adorn when they go to work but who invented the “porn star” look?

Certainly if you went back to the 70s and look at porn like Deep Throat I don’t think the women there look anything like the Barbie’s of today.

Maybe for some this mask is a hiding place for aspects of an otherwise unsatisfied life. The more grandiose the mask the bigger the problems.

Me personally I hate make up. I hate getting my nails done, I hate big hair although it does aid immensely with getting into this glamour puss character that my porno self becomes.

Lights, Camera, Action

The minutes soon ticked by and Neil was ready to start clicking away with his camera.
Neil hadn’t gotten a drink at the bar and I was pacing myself through mine. I wasn’t a big drinker and a glass of coke could easily last me three hours in a bar.

I was a cheap date.

He asked me to sit on the sofa while he ran some test shots to check his lighting and then off we went. He directed me through poses. Subtle changes or he’d change angle altogether before asking me to progress the scene. The images should tell a storey. A simple and unimaginative one in this case merely depicting me starting off dressed and slowly stripping out of my black dress then my bra and finally my thong. I tried to remember the posses the girls pulled in the porn mags Id read before to help me. He asked me to hold my breasts or squeeze them together. To spread my legs a little wider and to spread my pussy lips so everyone could see exactly what was going on down there. Id never showed off to a boyfriend like this before so it really was a new experience for me. And I never masturbated.

Once I was naked he grabbed the pink vibrator and passed it to me. He said there were no batteries in the jelly like machine so I only needed to pose with it. Hold it to my hole or insert it slightly.

In time id discover many “amateur” photographers would expect me to insert fingers and dildos and actually masturbate myself. I didn’t understand why at first. It was only pictures so I didn’t need to physically go through the motions just put things where they should be and stay still in a pose. Neil, my first professional photographer and all the other professional photographers that followed didn’t expect me to do that. Initially I thought it’s because they, the amateurs, didn’t really know what they were doing. They didn’t know how the pros did things properly.

Later id work out it was simply that they were closet pervs. Some wouldn’t possess a video camera for which you would be required to act out a masturbation scene so rather than miss out they’d ask you to do it for real but just take still images. Others just couldn’t control themselves and once you had your vibe in hand they’d be all “Oh, can you move it about abit. In and out?

These guys didn’t really care a blind bit about photos or art or getting into making porno movies themselves. They just wanted a live wank show. It became easier to placate them then try to insist you were a professional model and should be respected as such. Often if you played their game and complied they’d book you again or give you a tip.

Neil laid my foundations. He showed me the ropes and how things “should” be done.

I was busy posing with a pink jelly vibrator up my twat with my legs in the air when he said “OK, that will do me”. We must have been working for about 45 minutes.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a little turned on showing off in this provocative way in front of Neil even though he was in no way attractive to me. I had to switch off to the physical aspect of my real time audience but still have the enthusiasm I would have if I was doing this in private to some gorgeous bloke id been chatting up all evening in the pub and managed to convince to come home with me. It was strange but stranger still it wasn’t so hard. I was still anxious throughout and that took a lot of my concentration not to mention actually concentrating on posing. I didn’t have time to think about how weird this all was. How unnatural.

I sat there not sure what to do next. I was naked in a small generic looking hotel room. He asked me to grab my denim jacket and put that on. I lay on the bed and he started to shoot again but he couldn’t really do another series of shots as I didn’t have much to strip out of. So the second set was more of a mess around. A time killer. Then Neil made a suggestion.

As I briefly said before Neil laid my foundations that day. He also laid me.

Dutch Courage

I finished up my work with great haste that afternoon but inevitably everything that possibly could go wrong did. I usually didn’t mind working late to finish tasks but tonight I was going to strip off in front of a perfect stranger in a hotel room and let him take pictures of me that were quite likely going to end up in a top shelf men’s magazine somewhere for an audience far greater than just that one stranger to see.

At least I knew what I was getting into...sort of!

I had decided the only way to time this right was to get a taxi back home instead of the bus. Could I hail a cab? Could I fuck. One eventually turned up although i was starting to panic. I told him to drop me at the Off Licence at the end of my street so I could pick up a bottle of wine. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous but not nearly as much as I believe a normal human being should have been. It was more an impatient excitement. The wine was for Dutch courage in case this fear I thought I should be experiencing suddenly materialised at the eleventh hour. I was adamant I was not going to bottle it but at the same time I was kind of looking for excuses to not let it happen.

I flew threw my front door and quickly showered and shaved my legs and ‘bits’. I re applied my makeup and freshened up my hair style, my glass of wine in hand. Id decided what lingerie to take with me. I’d been planning that all afternoon.

I had a cute yet sexy little number compromising of a purple and pink lace demi bra and matching thong. I was more worried about what outerwear to wear to the meeting. We were meeting in a hotel so should I dress up like some kind of discreet yet sexy hooker or was this part just matter of fact and part of the logistics? Did I still need to make an impression at this point or was it in the bag?

I opted for a simple black linen dress that was smart casual with my denim jacket over the top. That should cover all bases. I put my undies in my hand bag and hailed another taxi back into town and to the hotel wed agreed to meet in.

As I walked into the hotel bar an average looking guy gave me a cautious look before calling my name. He didn’t look like a murderous slime ball. He just looked like your typical non descript 30 something. He asked if I wanted a drink at the bar before we started. I guess he figured if it was my first time I could do with some Dutch courage as well. He was likely to be just as worried as I was that id flake out before things got underway.

I took him up on his offer not wanting to appear rude and also wanting to buy myself some time to find my comfort zone.

My glass of red wine and I followed Neil to his room where he had photographic lights and equipment all over the floor. This made me relax as this confirmed we were going to be doing what he’d said we would be doing. I kept an eye on my drink though. I didn’t want him slipping me something nasty although I was confident he wouldn’t.

He asked me what id bought to wear and I showed him my delicious lingerie set hoping it would impress him as much as it did me. “Ok” he said looking abit miffed. “We can do one set with that”. I had no idea that what Neil was trying to say was that he’d overlooked the fact that as a newbie I wouldn’t know how much lingerie to bring with me so I took his request to bring some lingerie literally and only had one set with me. It became apparent that communication wasn’t Neil’s greatest quality as rather than explain that I should have bought several sets with me he just muddled through and it wouldn’t be until I really started to look into the business, contacting people and learning the ropes that id realise I needed a small suitcase load full of lingerie plus actual outfits for a shoot.

As you can see I was learning even from day one.

I sat and drank my wine as Neil set up his kit. He pulled two boxes containing phallic looking plastic vibrators out and asked if I’d be comfortable using them. He assured me they were brand new but the fact that what he was getting at was that they weren’t pre used and therefore possibly contaminated with germs and bacteria that could give me an infection passed me by in all the excitement of what was going on around me.

I told him that was fine and it genuinely was. I could sense his disappointment even though I didn’t know the reason was because of the lack of outfits so I would have said yes even if I wasn’t comfortable using the sex toys.

First Steps

Sorry to suddenly flip stories but after my short sabbatical I felt like writing about my beginnings.

I’ve told you about alot of my firsts in porno but I’m yet to divulge the tale of my first EVER shoot. My stepping stone into the surreal underworld that is sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly judged yet always intriguing, that is the sex industry. The beginning of my new vocation. The taster that got my juice buds suculating enough to make me want to experience more.

This shoot, my first journey into the business of pornography was a full nine months before I made a conscious effort to pursue porn as a career. I was simply testing the water. Playing a game and just trying to have some fun. I wanted to do something wild and daring and totally unlike the real me. I wanted to not be me for a while.

I found an advert in The Stage newspaper from a guy looking for females for adult photographic work. It said no experience necessary and new comers welcome. I built up the courage to call this guy one lunch time. He sounded nice. He asked me what I looked like, how old I was. He said he would travel to my town with all his equipment and book a hotel to shoot in if I couldn’t shoot from my own home. This sounded like a plan. So far so good but I wasn’t prepared for him to say could I make it that evening? Eeek!

My brain raced. Could I make it that evening? Did I even want to do it that same evening? Was I ready that soon? Id assumed it would be arranged in advance and that I would have time to build up to the big day. I knew I wouldn’t chicken out, when I set my heart and mind to something I do it but id really been hoping I’d have some time to get used to the idea and come to terms with what I was about to get myself into.

I told him this was my first time. This could have been a grave error as I opened myself up and laid bare my biggest weakness to a complete stranger. This could have been the magic words to a psycho but my instincts were telling me this was the right thing to do. I wasn’t thinking of dramatics. I was being positive and making sure he knew I wasn’t a pro to cover my back when I would no doubt turn up looking like a rabbit caught in the head lights. I was more worried he’d not pay me because I didn’t do a good enough job than getting raped and murdered. I figured if I was honest with him he’d help me along and coach me through the experience. I really had no idea what happened at an adult photo shoot. Not even enough to forge together a rough idea.

He, Neil, said that he’d pay me £50 cash per hour. Considering I was used to getting just £5 an hour in my then job, £50 was like winning the lottery. He said it would only take an hour or so. I dont recall if he expalined what end use the pictures would have. I didnt know the difference between pro or am in those early days. i didnt know there were hobbiests so i guess i must have assumed at the least that he was a pro.

He was only going to take pictures of me on my own in sexy poses. He asked if I was ok with spreading my legs and I assured him that was fine and it really didn’t bother me in the slightest. I knew this wasn’t going to be some glossy glamour shoot such as those soft and tasteful ones seen in lad mags. I was fully aware that this was top shelf magazine stuff. Naughty, rude, no frills images of me baring myself in all my glory. It was almost worrying how unfazed I was by this notion. I wasn’t erotically excited by it at all either. I was excited but more so by the thought of doing something so different. So unlike me. Of stepping into the unknown and doing something that took confidence. Now I reflect that it also took stupidity and desperation.

Neil wasn’t pushy, it was my own irrational fear that if I said no to his suggestion of shooting that night that I might lose out altogether. Never one to miss out I gathered my thoughts as quick as I could and worked out that yes I could make it that evening. Only just mind. I’d have to grab a taxi home from work to bath, shave my pegs and re do my hair and makeup and collect some lingerie and then cab it back into town. It would be a rush but what the hell. ‘Let’s do it’ I thought.

I put the phone down on a high, buzzing from the adrenaline rush. I still didn’t know where id got the courage from to make the call. I thought I’d be more nervous about that evening impending activities but I didn’t have enough of an idea of what was to happen to be that way. I didn’t have any expectations or aspirations. I was just going to go along and see what happened. I couldn’t think to hard about something I didn’t know anything about and I was glad as I couldn’t talk myself out of it.

I had a smug air about me that afternoon and a naughty glint in my eye knowing that I had just created this hugely controversial secret about myself. I suddenly felt all grown up and adored.

Opening Doors

Peter picked me up at my flat one morning after our first successful shoot and drove me to his little studio in the Summerset countryside.

On the way he said he needed to pop into PC World for some techy stuff for his kit. I milled around the store aimlessly trying not to get in Peters way. He picked up what he needed and we went and stood in the queue to pay. As we did he pointed out some printers on special offer. He asked if I had a printer for my little laptop. I had an old black and white one that had seen better days and cost more than its own value to keep in fresh ink. Peter picked up a printer from the top of the pile and stated that he would buy it for me. I tried to argue that he didn’t need to and what the heck for but he was very persistent and clinched the deal with “you can owe me ok!” so I agreed. I kind of felt uncomfortable that some guy id only really just met was buying me £100 printers for no apparent reason but I figured he wouldn’t have put up such a fight if he didn’t want me to have it.

When we got to his studio he showed me around. It was small and grubby round the edges but fit its purpose and its environment was quaint. He quickly set up using a pale back drop. He told me to strip off and explained what poses I was to get into. We did some standing, some lying down and some sitting up. All tasteful but simple.

It felt like only ten minutes had gone by when he said “All done. Give us a hug and get dressed”. I got up and put my arms around his neck and planted a sisterly kiss on his cheek accompanied by a thank you. We went down stairs to his office and he played the images back to me on his computer. He said he’d give them all to me on a disk but he taught me how to delete images and rotate them and how to change them into black and white. How to make my teeth and eyes whiter and how to print the pictures out on glossy paper with a fancy border round them on my new printer ready to place in my book. I was awe struck. Wow. Now I could edit my own pictures and play with them to make them look more appealing for my portfolio.

My first proper portfolio images. Now I felt like a real model not just someone being paid to have sex.

I emailed my new images out to people and got defensive when I got unflattering comments back about how black and white images meant they couldn’t tell my skin tone or how this image or that didn’t really show my body off very well. What were these people going on about? Couldn’t they see how great these pictures were?

Peter chatted to me on the way back telling me all about his adventures in porn and life in general. Who he knew and who he had fallen out with. I didn’t notice at the time as he seemed so nice and generous but in retrospect he did have alot of enemies. I decided it must be these other people who were the baddies. Peter was too nice.

Peter started telling me about a guy he was working with to build a website and how they were looking for some girls to build sites for too. He had another model he was good friends with – they had similar tastes and she had agreed to do a site with them and now that offer was extended to me. It wasn’t quite ready to go just yet but that meant id have time to build up some content ready for my new site. I’d get 50% of the profits made from people signing up to the site to see pictures of me doing... well doing everything and anything really. Sounded easy peasy. Peter even said he’d take the photos to help me out.

A website sounded like a good way to earn money for not doing very much but it also sounded very permanent. Although I was taking the business seriously I still had no ideas about how long term my new career would be. I was still prepared in the back of my head for the work to just stop one day soon and to realise that that was my lot, time to go back to the rat race. A website gave me some dept in my new role. It was something that wouldn’t just go away one day.

Stick Wit Choo

So you see there is more to being a dumb blonde porn chic or ditzy glamour girl than simply throwing poses in well... not very much at all and it’s not all just laying on my back having the time of my life getting shagged senseless.

Somewhere in there, there is a business woman, a PR exec, a makeup artist, a personal trainer, a driver or chauffer, a secretary, an agent, a wardrobe assistant and on and on and on.

If I had to be honest id say for every day I spend on back of house stuff I do one hour of actual paid work.

Talking of paid work I managed to befriend one of the industries core players who became one of my main bookers for a period of time.

I was passed Peters number by an amateur photographer. At the end of the shoot the guy wrote down a number and said he knew Peter, who was a long standing professional photographer in the business, was always interested in new girls and that I should give him a call, so I did. Turns out Peter was passing my way later that day so asked if he could stop by for an informal chat to see what I looked like and discuss how he works. I didn’t know any better at the time and Peter sounded nice enough and pretty much promised me work over the phone so I agreed to meet in order to seal the deal. I didn’t have any issues with him popping by like this but over the years I became aware that nine times out of ten anyone asking to come and meet you pre shoot was a time waster or something equally as dodgy but most likely just looking for a free shag. Sometimes I get quite offended when I think about how stupid some people perceive women and models in particular to be.

So really Peter was lucky I was still new and naive as I wouldn’t have entertained that notion for too many months longer. We met and I made him tea. He was a bit on the touchy feely side but in more of a big brother hug than a creepy perv kind of manner which pushed any worries I had about my safety around him away. He talked like he’d known me for years. He told me about himself, how he only lived about 5 miles away from me and how he used to be a Page 3 photographer for one of the tabloids until he fell out with the papers owner. He went on to tell me how he didn’t just photograph girls but also arty black and white landscapes as well. Peter showed me some of these images in a calendar he’d had made up and they were impressive. He gave me a calendar to keep. He told me that he often took girls out for Chinese and that he only ever ate Chinese or McDonalds. I didn’t even have to ask if these dining experiences were romantic as his storeys were so matter of fact. He was just everyone’s mate.

He described what he had in mind for me. He had a film producer friend he worked with and they would come to my flat and do some pictures and a film. It would be a boy/girl shoot with a male model called Vince but this particular film was centred around the fact that Peter was going to join in in a gonzo fashion and take over from Vince half way through. For a fleeting second I wasn’t overly happy with this purely because Peter was the complete opposite of anything I found attractive. He wasn’t fat or spotty he just was the opposite of everything that ticked my box. I wanted the work though and knew if I said I didn’t want to work with him he’d say that he wouldn’t be able to use me for the shoot as that was the whole point of the film.

I put my professional head on and concentrated on the fact that not every guy I was going to work with was going to be a stunner. Come on, Oliver wasn’t particularly good looking and neither was Big Dave. It certainly wasn’t a case of beggars can’t be choosers but as you know I was taking my new career seriously so I pushed my concerns out of my head and agreed.

That mixed with the fact Peter told me about loads of other jobs he could book me for if I did well in this first one meant the cons of having to grin and bare something so non life threatening for a few hours was worth it with the pros out weighting this decreasing concern. He also said he’d take me to his studio and shoot my first professional portfolio images.

I decided Peter was a generous guy and one that might take me places so I made a mental note to stick to him like glue which seemed to suit him and his pally demeanour.

All Work and No Play

I’ve already discussed all the time we performers spend at the GU clinic too. Going for tests, picking up certificates. Team that with the fact your local clinic, as I well found out, might not be sufficient to provide you with the relevant paperwork so more travel is involved. The two main clinics for the business are both in London. I’ve know people who had to travel down from oop north just to get tested once a month then pick up results 7 days later.

Then comes the part that no one thinks about. The admin and back end. The time I spend checking my emails, scouring for work, networking, and marketing myself.

In those early days there were no such thing as Facespace and MyBook. Now managing my office time is an even more impossible, never ending job in itself. I often think I should employ a secretary. Many girls do have secretaries in the form of there pimpy, lecherous partners. These guys act as managers, sometimes calling themselves chaperones. They do all the organising and communication, often pretending to be Sally Ann on email and over the internet and you will find them feeding Sally Ann lines when she speaks on the phone to producers etc. Sally merely has to turn up to the job and do the business, for which her fella will have driven her there and will more often than not enjoy perving in the back ground at his girlfriend or wife getting fucked by other people. He will of course enjoy the money she has just made him.

But more about these sometimes unbelievable arrangements later.

This admin side of my job is time consuming but very necessary. Without it I simply don’t work. Yes I have several agents but I only remain at the forefront of their minds in my early days. Once I’ve been around the block and some fresh meat has waltzed into town I can pretty much wave goodbye to any help I see from my agents unless I’m specifically cast in a part which is rare. Or that I’m called in last minute to fill in for someone who’s no showed.

I’ve made quite a good business for myself just by being flexible enough to cover these flaky girls. I’m centrally located and can always be relied upon. Yeah it’s not so soothing on the ego knowing a large percentage of my work only happens by accident but it is a business and the aim of the game is to earn money.

I get emails from my ads on the modelling websites daily. In fact the volume they come in I found it quite a quick process to learn to sort the wheat from the chaff. I categorise emails into three sections.

Genuine interest. These people are known to me and often professional companies who write helpful, detailed and informative emails supplying links to work often through a website of their own.

Then there are the idiots who I have already discussed. They are fantasists and time wasters. They will write mails like “how much to fuck you?” Yes really that’s it. No please or thank you or even a hello. Or they will make up elaborate stories about running professional companies but not be able to back these claims up. The emails will be so detailed you fall asleep half way through. They describe things so obvious such as “then you will insert a well oiled dildo I have that is 12 inches long and 5 inches wide slowly into you soaking wet shaved pussy” rather than simply state “you’ll do insertion with larger toys”. Yawn – delete!

The last category is in between. They could be genuine but not so good at articulating. Maybe shy or just new to this and not know the lingo or how things work in the business. These people I will entertain until they prove to be examples of the second group. Its these people who eat your time. You waste precious minutes and even hours with email correspondence asking questions to establish how valid they really are, giving them the benefit of the doubt but also getting excited that potentially this is another job. Then it all goes south and you’ll have put off a real job in the vain hope this prat is serious.

Sometimes you don’t get so lucky and you go all the way only for the guy not to show up on the day. I said I worked out quickly how to identify most time wasters but I’m not an enigma machine.

I also have to learn to master the art of self promotion, setting up and maintaining all my adverts and profiles. Tweaking the text so that I sound as appealing as a pair of Jimmy Choos to Paris Hilton. I have to update my images regularly. It’s like having an online portfolio and only the best five or six images will do. You have to keep your images fresh as many people will look at your profile one day and not feel drawn to you but maybe three months later they see a different image and forget they ever saw that dodgy old snap of you or just feel that maybe you are worth booking after all.

I spend time mailing people who advertise for work on message boards. I scour the World Wide Web looking for more and more modelling profile sites to join in the desperate attempt not to be missed by any potential employers.

Then after all that I have to be my own PR agent. I have to create a successful fan base and market myself to them. This will ensure I remain popular enough to stay in demand with professional companies and studios. This as you might imagine means replying to fan mail, sending out signed pictures and DVDs. Uploading images and movie clips on the net and setting up my own official fan pay site where I can promote myself to the world letting them know all my latest movies and movements. Creating my own hype and making people love me.