Bobbi Starr
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Bobbi Starr, born April 6, 1983, is an American performer of mixed Italo-Albanian and Hungarian descent. Her mother stayed home to raise the children and ran a small daycare, while also directing church music and theater programs that kept Starr and her three siblings busy every weekend. Those strict evangelical roots never dampened her musical drive; she trained at a conservatory and can still coax a room quiet with a piano or an oboe line. At twenty-three she met someone in San Francisco who handed her a card and told her she could make real money on camera. She kept the card for a year before she finally picked up the phone. Her first shoots were tightly knotted rope scenes and strict submission clips shot for small internet sites. Within months she was on planes to Los Angeles, working daylight hours for established studios, taking direction, shedding clothes, and collecting box-cover credits. One year she placed as a finalist on a reality competition modeled after a modeling show, except the runway ended in bedrooms instead of couture. She calls herself a pro-sex feminist and refuses the word "degraded." If she feels the scene turning sour, she simply says no; the cameras stop. In her view, that single syllable gives her more authority than most women exercise in any workplace.
Bobbi Starr, born April 6, 1983, is an American performer of mixed Italo-Albanian and Hungarian descent. Her mother stayed home to raise the children and ran a small daycare, while also directing church music and theater programs that kept Starr and her three siblings busy every weekend. Those strict evangelical roots never dampened her musical drive; she trained at a conservatory and can still coax a room quiet with a piano or an oboe line. At twenty-three she met someone in San Francisco who handed her a card and told her she could make real money on camera. She kept the card for a year before she finally picked up the phone. Her first shoots were tightly knotted rope scenes and strict submission clips shot for small internet sites. Within months she was on planes to Los Angeles, working daylight hours for established studios, taking direction, shedding clothes, and collecting box-cover credits. One year she placed as a finalist on a reality competition modeled after a modeling show, except the runway ended in bedrooms instead of couture. She calls herself a pro-sex feminist and refuses the word "degraded." If she feels the scene turning sour, she simply says no; the cameras stop. In her view, that single syllable gives her more authority than most women exercise in any workplace.