Originally posted on elephant journal October 16, 2012. Sometimes I look back at stuff and repost it here, because it makes me smile.

She’s the California dream, wrapped in a ribbon of sunshine, served up on a bed of pot leaves and granola on a Hollywood afternoon.

Free-spirited, gorgeous, legs as long as palm trees….The foxiest girls in the US of A are in Los Angeles, where there’s a wealth of beauty so insane it’s like a sweet misstep of geography and evolution. It must be the sun, and all that sticky homemade kombucha tea.

Exactly who is the quintessential LA chick? Do all those earthquakes generate a higher vibration of some sort, elevating these girls to serious levels of hotness while they ease on down the road in life?

Some people call it plastic, even soul-less (and maybe it is, considering its watered-down, hang loose, I-pretend-for-a-living so-called “culture”). But it’s far from being just a breeding ground for vapid, unwordly bottled blondes. LA seems to produce some dazzling beings that are just softer, easier on the eyes. They’re earthy, and they have sweet, girly names like Rayne, and Rhiannon. and Chastity. True story: my parents almost named me Cherry.