Best Gals Club (2016 Edition)

Imogen Caldwell of Cortney Brown 
Something is happening. Something huge, a city’s burning, sirens are blaring. Unshaken by the intoxicants of living affluence, she watches from above. And her eyes, is it trite to speak of her eyes? That oceanic pairing which cuts through air-removed, for the sake of soul and sin? An iceberg melts in the distance, and with momentous laughter she sighs relief. She’s a flare in the night: young, hot, volatile, and so aware.

Photo: Tessle Opold

Joanne Mckay of Lee Wilson 
She sifts through the down pour of a dying day. Outlines of her cheekbones and slender limbs silhouette in the Balinese rain. With utmost confidence, she’s unconscious of her immortal beauty, unaware of a body that’ll make old men whimper. Windshield wipers clear the droplets, but do nothing to obstruct the vision of a woman named Joanne. 

Photo: Kane Skennar

Ashley Osborne of Julian Wilson 
Magnificence transcends the Sunny Coast. Her’s is taken–as is all that’s lies above and below–left out of possession with one remaining task: to marvel. Her form: fit, each drop in place, a sculpted clichè of the familiar jealous notions known by men. With a deafening presence she pushes like flood water through the brain. Under the speaker on a dim lit dance floor, Ashley sways alone and illuminates in purple prose. 

Photo: Richard Freeman

Mahina Alexander of Jay Davies 
In the house hopeless romanticism there’s plenty need for worry. But, Mahina shines through the window seal in the blackest night by rays of the moon. Beams awaken the sea. Pipeline sips in her youth-majestic, her roots run deep in lunar gild. She’s a symphony that crescendos from Sunset to Waimea–a sound, so lovely, immense and full of life. 

Chloe Chapman of Paul Fisher
The flowing grains of sun kissed strands lighten her hair, the way crystals of sand escape the finger’s grasp. To see, love, follow, double tap and come unhinged by beauty is a bought of aching male gaze—inhaled jealously, undoubted lust. And, we, as much as any men are guilty of simple observant pleasures. As her teeth radiate, our jaws slacken, toes tap and hold for eight counts. And Mr Fisher–the man bearing arm–serves as the unfiltered bass-line, in a deep, dark pit of inspired fun. 

Photo: @mauimakaphotography

Mahina Garcia of Nathan Florence 
A wild flower that grows in a pineapple field and doesn’t falter. The soil’s thick, full and sunlight grips the tropic pedals in the morning’s purple glow. Miss Garcia awakens dry in the humid sky. Trade winds blow, the lightened tips of her hair stagger in harmony. They clear heads and for one smiling moment, lips fill with blood. Eyes blink upon her existence, and glisten mad, baffled by certain beauty innate to the islands. In the morning she’s barefoot, beautiful, and floats above flowing leaves that drift east like crooked snakeskin. They transcribe the words of a warrior, upright and ready to take on the world. 

Maddie Aldrich of Kolohe Andino 
On tour, a revving engine zipping left with a NASCAR driver in tow. She’s the California soul. Blonde hair with brown roots to complimented her hazel eyes–beautiful in the present and abstract. She brings luxury to place and time. To gaze from a far is rare and wonderful. She’s a wild belle of champion driven lust.   

Photo: Brydie Mack

Hanalie Reponty of Patrick Gudang 
The seasons change with the world, for better and worse. In lines of sand, in rolling desert hills, Miss Reponty shines a shimmering light. A stunning and natural illuminate–her blonde hair, and lightly christened skin glistens with beauty. She’s the clear sight of commonality in a world of interchanging humanity. 

Photo: Carlene Raschke

Lauryn Cribb of John John Florence 
No single word can render the shade of female light. No combination of vowels and consonants can portray colours with conviction. It’s complex. Emotions conflict and smother out the way sand smothers bonfires. A dead flame lives on in the embers beneath. Embers, hotter than oven coils in a kitchen full of electric stardust.