Out Of The Blue

Roxy Mendez appears between a rough brick column and a tall bamboo in a sky-blue wrap bra and matching cycling shorts, the vivid cerulean fabric catching the eye like a signal flare against the warm slate floor and rustic brickwork. Strappy blue heeled sandals lace up her ankles, adding a few inches to her already statuesque frame, and her black hair hangs heavy and straight past her shoulders. One hand rests at her chin, the other at her hip, and the tilt of her head carries the quiet certainty of a woman who arrived exactly when she meant to. Out Of The Blue could refer to the colour or the element of surprise, and with Roxy, it is both.

The blue bra is the first casualty, and Roxy crosses her inked forearm beneath her bare chest as she widens her stance in the cycling shorts, the heels driving her calves into sharp definition against the stone tiles. The shorts follow, and she leans against the brick with one hand while the bamboo leaves brush her shoulder, her entire body on display: the constellation of ink down her left arm, the silver at her navel, the defined lines of her legs and the generous shape of her hips. She stares directly into the lens without blinking, chin slightly raised, jaw set. It is the kind of pose that does not invite comment so much as demand silence.