Lifestyle
It’s time to set sail with the ‘Yacht Girls,’ L.A.’s coolest book club on a boat
It’s 11:30 a.m. on a beautiful and unseasonably warm day in Marina del Rey, half an hour before the starting time for the Yacht Girls Book Club meeting, but several women are already standing at the gate leading to a vintage yacht docked at the California Yacht Club.
Nicole Vaughn, a first-time attendee who has driven from Woodland Hills with her friend Cani Gonzalez for the meeting, had been looking for author events on Eventbrite when she found the Yacht Girls Book Club’s “Brunch and Sound Bath,” which also includes a signed copy of the featured author’s book, a boat ride and swag bag for $65. “I read ‘sound bath, poetry and manifesting,’ which sounded intriguing, so I said, ‘Why not?’” Vaughn says.
Once the gate opens, Vaughn, Gonzalez and the others stream in, alone or in pairs. The mostly female attendees range from 30 years old to over 70 and are attired in outfits including cutoffs, tank tops, straw fedoras and glamorous full-length dresses. There are approximately 60 first-timers and returning members.
Brittany Goodwin, another first-timer and Mid-City resident who does social marketing and media for HBO Max, also heard about the meeting on Eventbrite. “I saw the word manifestation [in the ad] and I was there!” she enthuses, taking in the colorful array of arriving women. “And today is the full moon, so it’s very appropriate.”
That’s because the speaker is local poet and author Melody Godfred, whose latest book, “Moon Garden,” attracted the attention of Aloni Ford, Yacht Girls founder and organizer of the meeting.
“I thought Melody would be perfect for the official relaunch of the Yacht Girls,” Ford said in an earlier phone conversation. “Her message of self-love and living more authentically is the reason I started the book club in the first place.”
That was in 2018, when Ford, an Altadena-born manager of professional athletes and boating enthusiast who has lived in Marina del Rey for the last decade, was tired of conversations with women that only focused on relationships. “I wanted conversations with like-minded women that were intellectual but fun. And talking about books seemed to be the ideal way to achieve that.”
Erin Nelson, left, and Lisa Nelson make a brunch plate at the Yacht Girls Book Club.
(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)
For that first meeting, Ford gathered six women — female friends, her masseuse, a favorite aunt. “We discussed Ruth Ware’s ‘The Woman in Cabin 10,’ so I held that first meeting on a local yacht cruise.” After the discussion, the women agreed they wanted to continue meeting, and brainstormed names until Ford suggested Yacht Girls, and the book club was launched.
Some of those “OGs” — Ford’s term for the original Yacht Girls who attended those first few meetings — now embrace each other, introduce the friends they’ve brought, and recount previous discussions of memoirs and books on self-care, building self-confidence and financial literacy. Tarzana resident and OG Felicia Smith still remembers her favorite book discussion. “It was ‘Let Your Fears Make You Fierce’,” she says, reaching for her phone to show the book is still in her audiobook library. Ford recalls that a highlight of those early years was a discussion of Gabrielle Union’s memoir, “We’re Going to Need More Wine,” which was held at Malibu Wines & Beer Garden and attracted more than 300 participants. “I tried to match the venue with the author whenever I could,” Ford says of those early meetings.
But then COVID-19 struck and, although she wanted to continue the book club via Zoom, Ford admits, “I’m not a Zoom kind of girl. I need the interaction, the face-to-face connection with women.” In the interim, Ford pursued other interests, including yachting, a hobby she picked in 2023 that birthed ideas for Yacht Yoga and other female empowerment gatherings of the Yacht Girls.
Ford’s chosen venue for Yacht Girls Book Club meetings is the “Northwind,” a 100-year-old, lovingly restored 130-foot vessel that once hosted Jacqueline Kennedy in 1961 and is open to the California Yacht Club’s members, of which Ford is one. After check-in, attendees are invited to take a ride on a smaller vessel docked nearby, enjoy the buffet luncheon on the main deck, get a tarot card reading from Ruby Sheng Nichols or take in the sun, ocean breeze and marina views from the upper deck, which is outfitted with umbrellas, tables for four and comfortable lounge seating, all arranged with a view of the ship’s stern, where Godfred is preparing to read and where Amber Melvisha is setting up a sound bath, which will accompany the reading.
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1. Felicia Smith listens to Melody Godfred recite poems from her book “Moon Garden.” 2. Members of the Yacht Girls Book Club enjoy brunch. (Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)
Godfred, 43, is delighted to be with such a diverse group of kindred spirits. “I’ve been craving in-person experiences lately,” she says, “especially with people outside my bubble. This absolutely fulfills that desire.”
Olympia Auset, a book club OG and founder of a nonprofit South Central organic grocery store, is pleased with the turnout. “There is a real spirit of community in this book club,” she says, after quietly taking in the scene.
That spirit is exemplified by Ford, a gregarious hostess who moves through the various groupings of women in a diaphanous full-length blue dress, introducing Godfred to a group of attendees and hugging both first-timers and her OGs enthusiastically. It feels a little like a reunion, with everyone a part of the extended family. “I come for the networking, to meet women of all different levels,” observes View Park resident Alicia Sutton, an OG who proudly displays her original Yacht Girls badge. “We have more in common than we think. We are a group of women of all colors.”
As the women — plus Ty Jessick of Santa Monica, a friend of Ford’s and the lone man at the event — settle into their seats, Ford greets them again, recounts the Yacht Girls’ early days and her vision for the book club’s next chapter. “This is an opportunity to unplug from our daily lives,” she tells the assembled group, amid nods and murmurs of agreement. “We schedule so much but we must not forget to schedule joy. Today you may meet your new best friend, a business partner, or just someone who loves books. After our first post-pandemic meeting last fall, we wanted to relaunch the Yacht Girls Book Club in a big way. And after today, I’m definitely back in those book streets again!”
With that, Ford hands the mic to Godfred, who shares her own story of immigrating to Los Angeles with her parents from Iran when she was three months old, of being a “recovering attorney” who was managing two businesses and raising three children with her husband but not taking time for herself. That self-neglect resulted in a health challenge, which eventually led to Godfred reconnecting with her passion for poetry and self-exploration. “It was a signal to start honoring my truth more fully,” she explains.
After introducing the inspiration behind “Moon Garden,” which contains 12 sections of spiritual poems, insights and affirmations tied to Earth’s lunar cycles, Godfred answers questions posed by Ford and the audience. Then, she invites participants to get comfortable in their seats while she reads selections from the book that encourage surrender, rest and contemplation during the winter months. The sound bath and a chiming bell provide a resonant echo in which attendees visibly relax, most with their eyes closed.
Members of the Yacht Girls Book Club enjoy drinks on the upper deck of the “Northwind.”
(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)
The meeting breaks up around 2 p.m. and is followed by music-filled, informal mingling, where the participants discuss the book and the afternoon. From their tables in the “Northwind’s” aft section, Vaughn, seated with Gonzalez and a group of new acquaintances, says she definitely will return.
“This book club may attract women who are high achievers,” Auset says as she gathers with other regular members for a photo, “but we all need to make time for self-care and community.”
The next Yacht Girls Book Club will be held at noon June 13 at the California Yacht Club with brunch included. The featured book is “Proof of Life” by best-selling author and visual artist Jennifer Pastiloff. Pastiloff will be in attendance. Tickets required.
Woods is an editor, author, book critic and a regular contributor to the Times.
Sunday Puzzle
NPR
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NPR
On-air challenge
I’m going to give you two five-letter words. Add the same two letters at the end of the first one and the start of the second one, in each case to complete a familiar seven-letter word.
Ex. Later Ready –> LATERAL/ALREADY
1. Habit Tempt
2. Laten Press
3. Blank Ching
4. Since Venue
5. Shack Groom
6. Surge Stage
Last week’s challenge
Last week’s challenge came from Rawson Sheinberg. of Plymouth, Mich. Think of a U.S. city with a two-word name. Add a letter to the first word, without rearranging letters, to name a country. Then, without adding a letter, rearrange the letters of the second word to name another country. What places are these?
Answer: Los Angeles –> Laos, Senegal
Winner
Elaine Neel of Derby, Kansas.
This week’s challenge
Next weekend will be the 186th convention of the National Puzzler League, in Bloomington, Ind., which I’ll be attending as always. Two other people who will be there are Henri Picciotto and Joshua Kosman, who created this week’s challenge. Name two words that are opposites. They share a single letter. Remove that shared letter from each word, put a hyphen between the two starting words, and you’ll get a term you sometimes see in food ads. What are the two words?
If you know the answer to the challenge, submit it here by Thursday, July 9 at 3 p.m. ET. Listeners whose answers are selected win a chance to play the on-air puzzle. Important: include a phone number where we can reach you.
An illustration of the Boston Tea Party, when colonists dumped British East India Company tea into the harbor on Dec. 16, 1773. Some accounts say this marked a pivotal moment when Americans started loving coffee. But one historian says Americans were drinking lots of coffee before then.
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A consequential act of defiance secured tea’s place as perhaps the most iconic beverage of America’s colonial era.
The Boston Tea Party became an essential ingredient in the recipe for revolution in the following years.
But tea wasn’t the only hot beverage with a prominent role in America’s fight for independence.
Coffee was an important part of American culture from the start. And coffeehouses were essential, too — serving as hubs for brewing ideas of independence.
As the United States celebrates 250 years, here’s what to know about America’s early history of coffee.
Colonists were drinking coffee long before the United States existed
Europeans brought coffee with them when they came to America.
“The first documented example of a mortar and pestle used to grind coffee beans was on the Mayflower” in 1620, says historian Michelle Craig McDonald, the author of Coffee Nation: How One Commodity Transformed the Early United States.
“The fact that coffee was present so early is not surprising if you think about it,” McDonald says. “A number of those who were on the Mayflower came to North America from Amsterdam, which was a major coffee trading center in Western Europe by the 17th century.”
The first coffeehouse in the colonies opened in 1676 in Boston, a century before the U.S. declared independence, she says. Some taverns sold coffee even earlier.
The Boston Tea Party probably wasn’t the dramatic turning point toward coffee that some claim
On the night of Dec. 16, 1773, disgruntled colonists boarded three ships moored in Boston Harbor and threw overboard more than 92,000 pounds of tea owned by the British East India Company.
Tensions had been building between the Crown and the colonies over the previous decade, as Britain tried to levy taxes on its colonies to recoup war debts.
The Boston Tea Party protest was targeted at the British government’s passing of the Tea Act in 1773, which granted the East India Company a monopoly over tea sales in the colonies. While the British had removed some unpopular taxes in the preceding years, they left tea taxes in place. Colonial merchants were especially upset that the act allowed the East India Company to undercut their tea business.
To build solidarity for their cause of sovereignty, some patriots called on colonialists to swear off tea in favor of coffee. It’s why many histories point to the Boston Tea Party as a turning point when Americans switched from mostly drinking tea to mostly coffee. The anti-tea sentiment was immortalized in a founding father’s now-famous letter.
In July 1774, John Adams (before he became the second U.S. president) wrote to his wife Abigail, recounting an incident during his travels. After a long day, he asked the proprietor of the house where he was lodging for a cup of tea, provided it was smuggled and free of British taxes.
” ‘No sir, said she, we have renounced all Tea in this Place. I cant make Tea, but I’le make you Coffee.’ Accordingly I have drank Coffee every Afternoon since, and have borne it very well. Tea must be universally renounced. I must be weaned, and the sooner, the better,” Adams wrote.
Despite John Adams claiming a newfound patriotic duty to appreciate coffee, McDonald says colonists had been drinking lots of coffee all along.
She studied advertisements from the 1760s and ’70s to estimate how many shops sold coffee versus tea. Even before the Boston Tea Party, she says, “coffee is definitely more broadly available than tea is.”
A big reason? It was cheaper. “Its price again per pound is significantly less, which tells you about its availability, its accessibility to drinkers.”
Historians say it’s hard to definitively compare tea with coffee consumption, though, as official records from before America gained independence were inconsistent.
And smuggling was rampant, making official records even less reliable.
“There is a vast amount of smuggling,” says Joyce Chaplin, a professor of early American history at Harvard University. “So they’re not paying formal duties on tea that they get from the Dutch. They’re probably not paying formal duties on coffee from the French Caribbean.”
And Chaplin notes that people who loudly proclaimed a new appreciation for coffee over tea weren’t always doing what they said. It could have been political pandering. “I do not drink tea that comes via the East India Company,” she posits someone of the era saying. “But, you know, other sources are fine. Ditto for the coffee.”
Coffeehouses were a hub for revolutionary ideas
A coffeepot with cover, circa 1795. It has an American eagle motif, made in China for the American market. Coffee was part of a growing trend of globalization in the colonial era.
Heritage Art/Heritage Images via Getty Images
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In the colonial era, coffeehouses were hotbeds for seditious thought — where people planned acts of revolution.
“Coffeehouses are kind of famous for being places where people think and plot things,” says Mark Pendergrast, author of Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World.
A coffeehouse called the Green Dragon served as one of the locations for planning the Boston Tea Party. Years earlier, the Old London Coffeehouse in Philadelphia was a meeting place for strategizing responses to another British tax, the Stamp Act of 1765.
In Britain, coffeehouses were nicknamed “penny universities,” Pendergrast says: “because for a penny you could go and learn a whole lot by sitting around in a coffeehouse and discussing everything.” The same attitude traveled across the Atlantic.
Early American coffeehouses would commonly have city business directories, libraries of newspapers and currency exchange information. People could get maritime insurance there or buy things at auction.
“There’s a reason why coffeehouses become places of colonial protest … in the 1760s, in the 1770s, and it’s because it is the place where traders and merchants tended to gather,” historian McDonald says. “That’s where they heard about the economics of the day.”
Taverns were more likely than coffeehouses to have rooms for rent and stables for travelers’ horses. They were also more likely to have food.
Interestingly enough, coffeehouses could serve alcohol and taverns could serve coffee.
But the vibes at each were different. While women and men could “riotously drink together” in taverns, coffeehouses often didn’t allow women, according to Chaplin of Harvard.
“The sense was the coffeehouse was the place where you had a clear head — to argue about politics, to find out what was going on in the business world, to cut a business deal,” she says. “Whereas taverns were places where, in a sense, you refueled.”
Still, she says, the lines between the two “weren’t completely clear.”
The cost of America’s revolutionary drink
Coffee (and tea for that matter) was part of a growing globalization of trade around this time.
Much of the coffee in the colonies was grown in the Caribbean, while tea came from China.
Supply was up and coffee was easier than ever to drink. “Trade and frankly, imperialism, are making it possible for … colonial products to be produced and transferred to other parts of the world in greater and greater quantities,” says Chaplin.
As a result, by the time of the American Revolution, both coffee and tea were in reach for many common people. “They’re both becoming affordable luxuries,” Chaplin says.
Fancy coffee and tea paraphernalia were also part of this increasingly global market. Middle and upper-class people would have wanted special implements for drinking these beverages and a place to drink it. That meant they needed wood for coffee tables, silver for coffeepots, and porcelain for teapots.
“These two beverages are encouraging people to consume all kinds of new stuff,” says Chaplin. “The mahogany that comes out of the Caribbean, the china coming out of China, silver that is mined principally in South and Central America and processed in a lot of the parts of the world.”
There’s a dark side to coffee’s history, too. The plantations that supplied the crop ran on the labor of enslaved people. By 1790, half of the world’s coffee was being grown in the French colony of Saint-Domingue, in what is today Haiti, Pendergrast says, where slaves were routinely mistreated, raped and murdered.
The Declaration of Independence, signed in 1776, is infamous for a contradiction. It proclaimed that “all men are created equal,” but failed to acknowledge the hundreds of thousands of enslaved people living in America at the time.
Coffee carried a similar contradiction. The beverage that fueled conversations that inspired America’s fight for independence — centered on the ideals of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness — depended on enslavement.
“Coffee had this paradoxical effect, that it did promote revolutionary thought,” Pendergrast says. “But it was also grown by slaves.”
Just in time for a contentious 250th anniversary of the United States of America, historian David S. Reynolds’ latest book, Two Ships, helps us realize that any country that couldn’t agree on its own origin story is destined for divisive times.
Two Ships is about the complicated, conjoined legacy of the landings of the Mayflower, which carried the Pilgrims to Plymouth, Mass., in 1620, and the White Lion, which arrived in Jamestown a year earlier, bringing the first enslaved Africans to Virginia.
As Reynolds demonstrates, it’s not so much the facts of these two voyages, as it is the meanings ascribed to them, that made them such a powerful metaphor for two conflicting visions of American identity.
To simplify, the Mayflower’s passengers were separatist Puritans, dissenters to the reign of the English king, James I. As the United States developed, the Mayflower was credited with carrying the seeds of a radical democracy to the New World, one in which all men (in theory, at least) were equal before God.
In contrast, the European settlers of Jamestown were Royalists, also known as Cavaliers. Loyal to the monarchy, they believed in a strict hierarchy.
But the meaning of the images of the two ships shifted depended on who was invoking them and when. Not surprisingly, the metaphor was deployed most vigorously during the Civil War. In abolitionist speeches and writings, the White Lion or the “Slave-Ship,” as it was commonly called, was condemned for infecting America with the “plague-spot” of slavery.
Reynolds says that Frederick Douglass resorted to the “two ships” metaphor frequently, while Lincoln avoided it, hoping to preserve a unified ship of state. Meanwhile, Southern descendants of Cavaliers invoked the Mayflower to emphasize the intolerance and “cruel, persecuting” character of the Puritans. In a comment that resonates for our own times, Reynolds says:
It didn’t matter to the South that … by the mid-nineteenth century, the North had become a kaleidoscope of religious denominations, …, few of which resembled the faith of the Plymouth colonists. Distortion is intrinsic to cultural memory, especially when amplified by sectional or political bias. For Southerners, the Mayflower had brought Puritanism, which had yielded fanatical movements like abolitionism, now a dire threat to the Union.
In a brief-but-fascinating digression into the unpredictable power of literary fiction, Reynolds observes that the South’s fondness for Nathaniel Hawthorne’s anti-Puritan novel, The Scarlet Letter, and, even more, for the medieval historical romances of Sir Walter Scott, bolstered its nostalgia for a largely-imagined feudal society.
Reynolds quotes the always-quotable Mark Twain, no fan of Scott’s, as saying that Scott “did measureless harm; more real and lasting harm, perhaps, than any other individual that ever wrote …”
Two Ships is a dazzling survey of some three centuries of American history through a close reading of a metaphor. By the 1890s, Reynolds says, the interpretive tide had turned again: “Southern and Northern whites, feeling threatened by people of color and by an array of European immigrants, were retreating to a cocoon of racial solidarity that Mayflower celebrations helped reinforce.”
By the later-20th century, the image of the Mayflower was depoliticized and commercialized into Pilgrim hats and Black Friday sales. The powerful metaphor of the two ships receded into the mist.
Seven years ago, however, the 1619 Project piloted the White Lion — “The Slave-Ship” — back into view and anchored it at the center of debates about slavery’s place in the national story. The 1619 Project has been faulted for its historiography, and it does lie outside of the chronological boundaries of Reynolds’ book; still, it seems too momentous a reappearance of the White Lion not to at least acknowledge in this book.
That criticism noted, I think reading Two Ships would be an excellent way to observe this particular Fourth of July. It’s wise for all of us to have a more informed awareness of how Americans have understood, misunderstood and, often, flattened each other into stereotypes. Or, as Ernest Hemingway, one of the Mayflower Pilgrims’ more cynical descendants, might say in response to that sentiment: “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”
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