The first thing you notice about Verna Griffin-Tabor is her welcoming smile and easy manner. You’d never guess she works with trauma survivors and heads a legacy organization that focuses on advocacy, healing, and the prevention of domestic violence and sexual assault (“Real light subject, huh?”). That org, the Center for Community Solutions, maintains emergency shelters, a hotline, and the city’s only rape crisis center.
Before Griffin-Tabor, known to many as “Vee,” arrived at CCS 21 years ago, she’d earned a bachelor’s degree in criminology and a master’s in social work. Early in her career, she designed treatment programs for children who’d been sexually assaulted. She went on to work with rapists and pedophiles in a federal prison in LA, as well as with perpetrators in a halfway house. The challenging work with the convicted “catapulted me to want to work with survivors.”
When she started as CEO and executive director of CCS, its budget was $700,000 and there were just 17 people on staff. Her job involves a lot of fundraising, while still nurturing a healthy culture at the agency and ensuring best practices. CCS now has 80 staff members, 300 volunteers, and a budget of $6 million. With ten locations in San Diego County, they were able to help 22,000 San Diegans last year. What keeps her going is her unassailable optimism, and the knowledge that violence is preventable.
On the #MeToo effect:
I’m seeing a shift in people reaching out for help. Two years ago, our hotline calls went up 15 percent, and they’ve gone up again this year. People are less afraid to come forward. When I look at my career, and I look at where we were 30 years ago, even though it’s a snail’s pace, we are pushing the envelope. Things are changing, laws are changing. Public opinion is a slow-moving machine, but I do see changes. Is it fast enough for me? Heck no! But it is changing.
On the importance of recharging:
Vicarious trauma is real. We do a lot of teaching at the agency around self-care. And for me, honestly, when I get to a problem during the day, what grounds me is, survivors would really like to have this be their problem. When I go home, I have learned how to separate. I ride bikes, I work out, I do yoga. I meditate, and I have a very full life outside of here so I can come back recharged. I had to learn to take breaks. I looked at myself when I wasn’t taking regular vacations. Not only was I not being the person I wanted to be, but I also didn’t give a good message to our leadership team. We have very capable leaders, and they are just fine when I’m not here. As a matter of fact, if they’re not, what kind of foundation did we really build?
On working with boards:
When I first came in, we had a grassroots board, then we moved to an operational board. I took classes on the side. Having a challenging experience in a previous job taught me how to set limits for the board about what the role is and what it isn’t in terms of micromanaging, and how damaging that can be to staff. I’ve been fortunate because we spend so much time in board recruitment, we really get to know people. We don’t have the time to have a board that’s divisive or are chest-pounders. People who come to do this work usually have a real commitment to it.
From doing social work to taking a leadership role:
My social work training actually helps me be a better leader and manage people more effectively because it’s about communication and setting boundaries, and really listening to people when you’re trying to make a decision. [Working with prisoners,] sometimes it was just sitting in a room with them, because so many people had made assumptions about who they were. Being with them, talking with them slowly, over time, would build trust, so that we could start looking at incremental goals.
Explaining her line of work:
I watch people physically shut down. I can see their eyes glaze over because of the intensity of sexual assault and intimate partner violence. That’s where my social work training and my counseling training helps me figure out if there’s a place where we can have this conversation. Because I’m interested in creating seeds for change. They may talk over me. I don’t take ownership for that because I don’t know what I’m tapping into with them. I don’t know what their life experiences are, if they’re threatened by it or they just don’t have the emotional bandwidth to tolerate hearing about this issue. I pay attention: Are they engaging? Are they asking questions that invite me in? And then there are some people I can just tell want to get away. I understand. What I want people to know is why there’s every reason to be hopeful, why it’s so important that we lean in on these issues, and that it doesn’t have to be so scary. I want every school to have education on healthy communication, healthy boundaries, and consent.
In Her Own Words
First Job Ever:
At age 16, I waitressed in a beach resort in Ocean City, Maryland.
Flats or Heels?
Heels.
Book on My Nightstand:
Rising Out of Hatred by Eli Saslowâ
Best Celebrity Run-In:
Gloria Steinem
Erin Meanley Glenny: How does San Diego compares to other cities, in terms of helping victims of sexual violence and intimate partner violence?
Verna Griffin-Tabor: San Diego is seen as a leader in this field nationally. Two programs are cutting-edge right now and unique to San Diego. One is Domestic Violence Abuse Forensic Exams. We’re working with Palomar Medical, law enforcement, and the DA. It’s an evidentiary exam for people who have been victims of domestic violence, with a particular focus on strangulation. When somebody has been [briefly] strangled, they may feel like they’re fine [afterward], but they need a medical exam because they could stroke out in 72 hours. As harsh as it is to talk about, it is saving lives. It’s one of the few in the country. There’s something else called High Risk Teams that the DA asked CCS to coordinate; it’s when a law enforcement officer—or anyone in the community—is working with someone and they know they’re in harm’s way. It’s a way to mobilize the community quickly, bringing in law enforcement, the DA, and other social service agencies to put a safety net around the survivor.
EMG: At what age is it best to start teaching children about healthy relationships?
VGT: I think you start talking to little ones at five and six years old, but you don’t talk about rape and domestic violence. You talk about healthy boundaries and not having kids get in each other’s faces, asking somebody for a hug. Children have the right to say, “No, I don’t want a hug right now.” And then, as they get older, there are age-appropriate conversations to have.
Junior high kids are learning from each other whether we like it or not. They’re on their phones all day. Junior high, high school students are looking at porn. We have to be having these conversations—and not from a fear base; that will do nothing—talking about what’s natural and normal. What is respect? What are healthy boundaries? What is consent? These are just good, healthy conversations. People are scared to have them because they’re not given the tools, but we have all kinds of curricula.
And having some conversation about what it means to be a young man or a young woman; what does that mean sexually and in terms of consent? We’re about healthy relationships. We’re not here to promote any kind of sexual activity; we’re here to look at healthy communication. When you’re dating somebody, what’s okay when you disagree? How do you resolve conflict? I think you start young talking boundaries, individual physical space, and respect for your body, those kinds of things.
I would really love to see it as part of the curriculum. Not just the counselor or having an assembly on these issues, but to have them be a regular part of class. It would be so good for us as a culture, as a country, as a community. And it’s not so farfetched. This is a valuable life skill that we should really integrate into the school system, and give it to parents so they have the tools and they’re not unsure or scared to have the conversation. Let’s make it simple. Let’s take the fear out.
We’ve seen that you have to do at least three “doses.” You have to go back repeatedly to create change. One assembly, one event is not going to help change behavior. They need time to absorb it, try it out, come back, question it.
We’re in a few San Diego Unified schools; we’re in all schools for probation for young boys and young women. Let’s not wait until they have to get there. I’m not marginalizing that, but let’s get on the front end. Hopefully we can head off some of this violence. It’s so doable.
EMG: What kinds of volunteer opportunities does CCS offer?
VGT: We want to expand the work we’re doing in prevention, and we need financial resources to meet the need. We always need volunteers and we put people through extensive training. If somebody wants to do direct service—they want to have contact with survivors, respond to the hospital or help out on the hotline or in the shelter—you need empathy. People who want to help but don’t want the face to face will often help us with administrative tasks, or us do outreach in the community. We always need board members and help fundraising. It depends on somebody’s interest and skill and where they feel like the best seat on the bus is for them.
Walking into a room full of strangers isn’t high on the fun index for most. It’s inherently awkward: Everyone’s standing in closed-loop clusters, deep in conversation, and, depending on your social aptitude, the feeling is somewhere between light apprehension and burning alive from the inside out. The pull to retreat or reflexively look busy on your phone is stronger than the drink you now deeply crave. Having friends is nice, but making friends can be brutal.
There’s plenty of commentary on the loneliness epidemic. Last year, the American Psychiatric Association reported that one in three adults feel lonely at least once a week; those aged 18 to 34 are more likely to feel isolated and even more likely to turn to social media as a result. Dr. Vivek Murthy’s “My Parting Prescription for America” cautioned that “being socially disconnected increases our risk of heart disease, dementia, depression, anxiety, and premature death.” So it’s not just an emotional need; it’s nearly nutritional—chit-chat and the occasional wine-fueled, emotional deep-dive are just as important as Pilates and a reasonable amount of kale.
Finding social connections in any city is hard, but San Diego has very specific challenges. This is largely a transient population that acts as a temporary hotspot for many and a permanent home for few. Pick your reason: high rent, surreal gas prices, housing shortage, meh job opportunities (ranked 71st in the country in 2025), or the fact that active military is a sizable chunk of us (110,000-ish)—stationed here for a stretch, then gone. This constant flow of departees sucks out the potential for deeply established families and friend groups, leaving a good share of nomads, searchers, and plenty of people feeling socially awkward.
“There’s an underlying loneliness in all of us,” says Ramel Wallace, the host of monthly meetup CreativeMornings. “There are not a lot of San Diegans who are born and raised here, so [even those] San Diegans end up being just as lonely as the person who just got here.”
Photo Credit: Blair Kirby
Every month, in local libraries, breweries, and small businesses, there are ambitious social architects who have made a career out of undoing social sads. Extroverted champions of the awkward and searching, they’ve struck gold on in-person connection.
The first moments in a social situation are crucial. Sets the tone and cools the nerves.
At Pitch-A-Friend, singles recruit their close friends to present a slideshow of their dating green flags. The entry points for connection at Pitch-A-Friend are simple, old tech: stickers. Each colored sticker indicates if the wearer is single or taken, queer or straight, or practicing ethical non-monogamy (in a partnership but open to others under a mutual understanding).
At the helm of each showcase is Arielle Fuller, aka Chief Wingwoman, who is making dating hopeful again. As Fuller explains, this takes some of the fear of rejection out of a first interaction. “Putting a sticker on immediately means, ‘I wanted to leave my house and talk to someone, and I am a safe space to come and speak to me,’” she says.
Of course, not all of San Diego’s events designed to make connections are romantic. On the last Friday of every month, hundreds gather at San Diego Central Library for the local chapter of CreativeMornings—an org formed to unite creatives in various cities across the world (designers, artists, writers, producers, performers, architects, etc.).
Photo Credit: Gina Ribando
These aren’t your standard business card swaps, though. Coming from a hip-hop background, host Wallace uses call-and-response to break the fourth wall. “This is not my stage at all, this is our stage,” he says.
In your standard lecture-based meetup, the crowd silently faces the host and acknowledges nobody except those they came with. At CreativeMornings, everyone is encouraged to look around, pay attention to the strangers in the audience—not just the host. Wallace will pull volunteers to read the CM manifesto aloud, and he passes the mic to creatives, who make 30-second pitches to the community about projects they’re working on—and there’s always an invitation to connect and collaborate with the presenters whose ideas struck a chord.
The U.S. Chamber of Connection (yes it exists) says people experience life transitions nearly every year, and in these stretches are more open to forming new habits, relationships, and communities. In a revolving-door city like ours, the transition often comes when someone moves away. In 2023, the Census Bureau reported San Diego had the ninth-highest rates of domestic out-migration in the US.
This poses an issue for friendships that IRL SD addresses in monthly friend-making events called 619 Night.
“San Diego isn’t a place a lot of people stay forever,” says Alex Hunter, the creator of IRL SD. “They leave, and people [who stay] lose that community, so they’re hungry for community again.”
Their website describes the vibe as “backyard party meets college fair meets networking event meets happy hour.” Each follows a theme—wellness, sports, refresh and reset, etc.—with related community groups joining as well.
“The people I encounter are trying to get a fresh start in some capacity, so they’re more open, receptive, and ready to meet new friends,” Hunter says. “They need the circle.”
Photo Credit: Elysian Visions by Deaune Boyd LLC
Another way adults can break out of this disconnection is to revert in unison, says artist Elisa Summiel-Bey. The 2015-ish adult coloring book moment in the US was based on some real science, with multiple studies finding coloring has a noticeable meditative and stress-release effect by taking the brain away from anxieties and mental inventories, and focusing it on a simple, easy art. Summiel-Bey’s company Illustrated Melanin throws “Color & Chill” events, turning that trend into a group exercise, along with live DJ sets, wellness experts doing sound baths, and food and drink from BIPOC-owned local businesses. “I tend to think of coloring as your way to tap back into your childlike play,” she says. “As adults, I think we’re almost scared to let loose and have that unabashed joy.”
All of these social meetups attract crowds of likeminded connection-seekers, but high attendance is not the only thing that matters. Metrics nuts can track RSVPs, but spreadsheets can’t capture intangible wins: friendships made, innovative ideas sparked, collaborations kicked off. At CreativeMornings, Wallace redefines ROI as Return On Imagination. Resounding success means thoughtful inquiries over coffee, curiosity about the monthly meeting themes, and requests to take the microphone.
A simple, observable ROI is an increased number of window shoppers to the experience—on the periphery, watching from afar, looking for the right way in. Hunter from IRL SD sees the anxiety in her DMs. “The scariest part for you right now is not meeting new friends: It’s the unknown,” she says. “It’s the gap between ‘I’m here’ and ‘That’s where I need to be.’ If I can help you understand, or get a little bit of a shape around that unknown, it’s much more approachable.”
Courtesy of IRL SD
Being able to bridge that gap, however, depends on your ability to step out of your own mind. “It’s not a connection crisis; it’s a courage and confidence crisis,” says Fuller. The first hello could be as easy as, “Hey, cool shirt.” These are the types of things she includes in her confidence lab reels on Instagram and weekly newsletters.
Ever left a social event and shot straight into a spiral? Was I being weird? Why did I tell that story? I hope that person moves to another state very soon.
The experts say that post-event self-interrogation is a standard-issue part of being alive.
“I love awkward people, and I love being awkward myself,” says Wallace. “It’s humbling to experience: ‘I’m not alone. Finally someone is not put together.’ So give yourself that grace.”
Jeannine Boisse (she/her) is a freelance writer and professional creative with a background in Radio & Television. Based in sunny San Diego, Jeannine spends her time exploring the city's vibrant brewery scene, cooking up new recipes in the kitchen, and connecting with new people.
Ray’s Tennis doesn’t look like much from the outside. Never has. It’s just a green box with cloudy windows in Hillcrest, just steps away from a McDonald’s on University Avenue. But for nearly 60 years, this place has been the genesis for three generations of San Diego tennis dreams. Head inside, and you enter one of the tennis world’s great cornucopias.
For years, there was a tennis court behind the store, where owner Bob Ray gave countless lessons. It was like a racket-sport speakeasy; most customers didn’t realize the court existed unless Bob or his wife, Hiroko, guided them through the back door of the shop. Eventually they converted it into a half-court indoors—where a patron might take a racket for a few trial thwacks, trying to avoid rounders of tennis clothes that shared the space.
The shop is an abridged living history. Relics hang from the ceiling: a model of an old metal racket used by fiery lefthander Jimmy Connors in his heyday, and a version of the wooden Donnay that Björn Borg wielded on his way to five consecutive Wimbledon championships from 1976 to 1980.
And just inside the front door is Hiroko eternally stringing new rackets, carefully threading and adjusting the tension of the polyester strings, back and forth, until she has the entire racket head strung.
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
“I worked seven days a week—five days off in the year,” she says. “My hearing is still good. Physically, I’m as good as I was. Working seven days a week, standing all day. I’m mentally healthier than most people.”
The racket stringing is an operation she does up to 20 times a day—and one that, in some ways, resembles the thread work done by her father decades ago, when he ran a tailor’s shop in Japan.
Hiroko, now 81, was born in the city of Yokosuka at the tail end of the WWII. Her family evacuated to the countryside to escape the bombing raids, and she remembers growing up surrounded by rice fields and mountains. It was in Japan that Hiroko met Bob, a third-generation San Diegan, in the late 1960s, when he was stationed there with the Navy.
Among his possessions at the time was a tennis racket. Inherited from his father, who died when Bob was 11, this racket changed the trajectory of his life: He played constantly, filling up his school days, afternoons, and evenings on the tennis court. He was one of the highest-ranked teen players in the state, and he dreamed of joining the international tournament circuit after his stint in the Navy. But—speaking plainly—he acknowledges that he wasn’t quite good enough to compete with the best of the best. So, instead, he modified his dreams. He and Hiroko returned to San Diego in 1968, and he took a job as the club pro at Morley Field. By their mid-20s, in lieu of touring the world on the tennis circuit, the couple was running the club’s tennis store.
They spent 11 years at Morley Field, which at the time was one of the city’s tennis epicenters, hosting major tournaments for juniors. When the city handed over the store lease to a wealthier applicant, the Rays took over the property on University Avenue and moved in their tennis gear. They have been there ever since—through the McEnroe and Navratilova and Evert eras; the rise of Agassi and Sampras and Graf; the reign of the Williams sisters; the Federer-Nadal-Djokovic rivalry; and into the Alcaraz era. In the near-half century they have sold tennis gear in Hillcrest, the Rays became beloved anchors of the neighborhood’s business community, symbols of stability in an ever-changing environment.
At 84, Bob is still lean and, in his Lacoste tracksuit and Adidas cap, remains every bit the club pro. Like Hiroko, he comes to the store every day—though sometimes, if he is playing tennis in the morning, he might arrive a little later.
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
But time has started to take its toll. His hearing isn’t what it used to be, and the aging process is revealing itself to be true. And much to the disappointment of their loyal clientele, San Diego’s “First Couple of Tennis” is retiring, a milestone that marks the end of an extraordinarily long chapter in the city’s tennis history.
But Ray and Hiroko didn’t sell the building to a developer for condos or to a big-box retailer looking to open a boutique outpost. Determined that Ray’s should remain a tennis temple, they have negotiated a sale to a former employee who wants to continue the Rays’ legacy.
As of this writing, Hiroko and Bob remain in charge, Hiroko stringing rackets, Bob sharing his expertise about new gear. As much as they love what they’ve built, their hope is to move on soon.
For Hiroko, the prospect of retirement is bittersweet. “What am I going to do?” she asks. “Am I going to be ok? I never had a boring life. Always busy. Business first. I’m so involved in the business—because I didn’t want to fail.”
She looks around her store as she continues stringing. For her, the gladiatorial nature of tennis has always been a metaphor for how to succeed in life. “People have to have a drive,” she says. “You can’t just quit because you lose to so-and-so. Tennis players have that mindset.”
She pauses to talk about all the people who have come through the store’s door over the decades, and the relationships she has built with them. “It’s wonderful to have a great customer. That’s probably the reason I lasted this long.”
Sasha Abramsky is the West Coast correspondent for the Nation magazine and the author of nine books. His tenth book, Chaos Comes Calling, will be published by Bold Type Books in September.
At the 1996 Atlanta Summer Olympics, Dane Chapin had a problem. He found himself in possession of tens of thousands of excess Monopoly games, with no plan on how to sell them. What he didn’t know at the time is that this Herculean task would shape the future of his business.
In 1994, Chapin and his sisters started their Carlsbad company, USAopoly, with a two-year license from Hasbro to make city editions of the popular Monopoly board game. “The game is a great canvas,” Chapin remarks. While some aspects of the game are “sacrosanct,” according to Chapin—the four corners, for example—many of the details can be customized to fit a theme.
Photo Credit: Cole Novak No matter your favorite film or TV franchise, there’s probably a USAopoly game representing it
USAopoly appealed to local customers by including San Diego and La Jolla editions in the original six games it created (alongside New York, San Francisco, Boston, and Atlanta versions). The tokens of the San Diego board included a surfer, a beach cruiser, and a copy of the Union-Tribune. Instead of Park Place or Reading Railroad, players land on the Gaslamp Quarter or the San Diego trolley. But after two years of city-specific boards, the siblings were ready to branch out.
In 1996, Hasbro gave them license to create an Olympic edition of Monopoly to commemorate the Atlanta games. The Olympic Committee had agreed to purchase 20,000 copies, a huge number for USAopoly in those days. They decided to manufacture 35,000, figuring they could sell the extra 15,000 on their own. The games went into production, but the Olympic Committee hadn’t actually sent over a purchase order.
“I finally get the buyer on the phone,” Chapin recounts. “And she says, ‘We’re going to order 90 games.’ Nine-zero. Not 900, not 9,000, not 90,000. Ninety.”
Photo Credit: Cole Novak Chapin shows off a snapshot from his weeks hawking Atlanta Olympics Monopoly boards on the street.
When he reminded her of the initial request for 20,000, she said that the team had changed their mind. “There was no point for me to get angry or get mad at her,” he adds, laughing. “I just had to figure out what I was going to do.”
Chapin landed in Atlanta for press coverage the week before the opening ceremony. “The Olympics are a white-hot deal, and then it’s done,” Chapin explains. “And once it’s done, there’s really no market for all those goods.” So, he shipped 20,000 games to the city. If nothing else, he’d have them on hand to replenish the stock for local stores. But, while Chapin was walking to an interview with an Olympic Monopoly board under his arm, a man stopped him on the street and asked where he bought it. Chapin sold it to him for 20 bucks. A lightbulb went off.
Photo Credit: Cole Novak USAopoly’s Carlsbad offices hold copies of the thousands of games the company has produced since 1994.
“We’re sitting with a warehouse of 20,000-plus games that need to find a home,” he recalls. Why not get them directly into consumers’ hands? He rented a van, bought a dolly, and got to work. “I spent the next two weeks on the streets of Atlanta, schlepping games,” he says. At the end of those two weeks, all the boards had been sold at $20 apiece.
Hasbro never knew the full story. But the company did notice how successful the Olympic board had been—and it was all the proof it needed to increase USAopoly’s licenses. “That was the inflection point for USAopoly,” Chapin says. “After that, [Hasbro] expanded our purview, our grants, well beyond city editions.”
Chapin and his sisters started to create pop-culture versions of Hasbro games, producing tributes to everything from Harley-Davidson to Metallica to The Simpsons. Now, three decades later, USAopoly (also known as The Op) is on track to sell over seven million games this year. It’s grown into an international family entertainment company that designs original best-sellers like Telestrations and Flip 7 in addition to twists on the Hasbro classics.
Photo Credit: Cole Novak The board gives players the chance to invest in iconic SD properties like the Carlsbad Flower Fields and the zoo.
Peek in the archives at the Carlsbad offices, and you find shelves jam-packed with a copy of each game the company has produced since its inception, from the Atlanta Olympics Monopoly that changed USAopoly’s fate to Dragon Ball Z chessboards and RuPaul’s Drag Race Clue.
Chapin shows off the original San Diego Monopoly, still sealed in its packaging. “Think about some of your fondest memories in life,” he instructs. “My fondest memories include going to my grandparents’ house with my brother when I was 10 years old—we’d have a sleepover and play canasta for hours. Talk about joy, laughter, and lifetime memories.” He smiles. “So, that’s my job—to create games that will do that, that will bring people together and get them to put their phones away. It’s pure, and people can be present. That’s more important than ever.”
Stake Chophouse & Bar isn’t your average steakhouse. Blue Bridge Hospitality’s Coronado outpost is a modern interpretation of a big-city steakhouse nestled in the heart of the small coastal community. The team at Stake has reimagined the whole steakhouse experience. By prioritizing a seasonal farm-to-table sourcing philosophy, a personalized guest experience, and unique service touches, like a formal steak presentation and a bespoke knife selection process, Stake distinguishes itself in a sea of steakhouses.
Exceptional steaks, including Wagyu from Japan, Australia, and the U.S., and fresh seafood flown in daily form the core of Stake’s culinary identity. The menu features a five-course omakase-style steak experience highlighting house favorites, plus an array of cuts, and classic steakhouse staples—think a wedge salad, baked potato, or pasta carbonara—refined for a contemporary palate without losing their traditional appeal. Stake focuses on seasonal sourcing from the region’s best family farms and specialty purveyors, and incorporates intentionally unexpected touches to create something truly unique.
“I challenge our chefs and myself to take it a step further in sourcing,” says Chef Ronnie Schwandt. “It’s important to us to highlight different farms, unique one-off farms—whether it’s cattle, strawberries, a local fisherman or from anywhere in the United States, we’re always trying to find that niche.”
Beyond the menu, Stake emphasizes outstanding service, says Vinny Spatafore, Director of Hospitality Operations. Staff maintains detailed notes, allowing them to remember guests by name, recall previous orders such as a favorite martini (also memorable for the customer since it’s served in an extra tall, distinctly-shaped glass), and celebrate special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries.
“When you have those points of topic that you remember about a guest, they appreciate that,” he says. “Our servers are really good with that—we have a couple servers who have been here since the beginning and they’ll remember somebody from years ago, their name, their kids’ names, where they live. I’m really thankful to have a great front of house staff.”
Award-winning wines, rare whiskeys, special events, and a complementary black car service that provides transportation for guests throughout Coronado add to Stake’s appeal.
Schwandt stresses that Stake offers more than a meal; they aim to give patrons something unforgettable.
“It starts when you walk up the stairs and are greeted by the hostess—that sets the tone for the night. Then you’re greeted by a server, who may know you by name, and can guide you through the menu and curate as they get to know you,” says Schwandt. “Most people leave kind of blown away; they leave feeling like they just had an experience. That’s the goal, right? Whether you’re serving smash burgers or high-end steak, you want somebody to leave thinking, Wow, that was awesome.”
Fifty of San Diego’s top women founders, CEOs, and CFOs gathered on the lawn at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar on Thursday, March 27 for an evening of wine, local food, and unfiltered conversation about leadership, mentorship, and the messier parts of ambition.
Hosted with J.P. Morgan for International Women’s Month, the event featured locally sourced bites by chef Flor Franco and pours from three woman-owned Baja vineyards, curated by Michelle Martain, owner of La Mision Wines and Cavas Valmar. The cocktails were cheeky, the sunset did its thing, and the energy was unmistakably electric.
Photo Credit: Mi Hita Photography
“Stop asking yourself if you should be there—you’re already there,” advised Desi Swanson, CFO of Vuori and one of the evening’s speakers, when discussing young women facing imposter syndrome. When asked about the moment she knew she “made it,” she referenced a pre-Vuori memory from her 20s of paying off credit card debt and proudly walking into a boutique to buy herself a bee-shaped necklace she had wanted for months. That moment—vulnerable, personal, triumphant—set the tone. Success doesn’t happen in one moment; it’s the culmination of hundreds of victories throughout your life.
Curie founder and mom to a new 10-week-old Sarah Moret discussed building her brand while challenging the myth that entrepreneurship is a man’s game. She also relived a time when businesswoman and investor Barbara Corcoran sniffed her armpits on national TV. (Yes, really.)
The conversation that followed felt real and unscripted. The panel shared their thoughts about what success looks like now, how mentorship shapes growth, and how to lead without losing yourself in the process.
Photo Credit: Mi Hita Photography
My husband and I acquired San Diego Magazine three years ago because we wanted to invest in our local community, and create a platform for people and businesses to tell their stories. Events like this continue to prove that for all the stories that have been told, San Diego is full of thousands who haven’t… yet.
During the networking hour, Nancy Schmall, CFO of Southern Pride Trucking, talked about the rise of women and married couples in the industry and how it’s reshaping truck stop culture across the country. Later, I spoke with Abby Blunt, co-founder and CEO of MeBe, an organization that offers personalized, evidence-based therapy for neurodivergent kids and families.
I even swapped parenting stories with Kerri Kapich, COO of the San Diego Tourism Authority, and told her about my dream of producing a fashion show in this city. Our photographer shared a hack she discovered with the CFO of the Aloha Collection to transform one of their staple bags into the perfect diaper bag.
These women collectively manage thousands of people, steer massive budgets, and help define what work, leadership, and balance look like in San Diego right now. They’re building businesses, raising families, mentoring the next wave—and they’re doing it on their own terms. The story of a city should be told by the people living and breathing it every day. Each woman on that lawn owns a piece of San Diego’s story. And thousands more are out there, quietly building what’s next.
California is home to the most women-owned businesses in the country, and San Diego is a hot spot for women entrepreneurs. In March, we’re celebrating International Women’s Month by highlighting some of our favorite women-owned businesses throughout San Diego County—from food to flowers, photographers, and gift shops. Here are 31 ways to support local entrepreneurs this month and beyond.
Lizzette Amaya, an entrepreneur from Anyarit, Mexico who also owns a restaurant with her husband in La Mesa, delayed the opening of Nahomie’s Cafe & Deli in order to care for her ailing mother. When the spot for sandwiches, wraps, and coffee launched at last in August 2024, it won the National City Chamber of Commerce’s 2025 “New Business of the Year” award.
“It’s been hard trying to keep up the business,” Amaya says about trying to balance this spot with the other restaurant she owns with her husband in La Mesa, but she’s found the community to be supportive and that social media—despite being her only marketing tool right now—to be very effective for reaching new customers.
Annemarie Brown-Lorenz, daughter of The Fishery’s original owner—who has been working in restaurants herself since she was 15—took over the nearly 30-year-old seafood business’ operations during Covid. She and her husband also run Pacific Shellfish, and in 2022, food critic Troy Johnson said that after “15 years of studying food and eating at San Diego restaurants…the two meals at The Fishery were the single most excellent seafood experience I’ve had in the city.”
5040 Cass St, Pacific Beach
Balsamico Italian Kitchen
Elisa Borelli co-managesBalsamico Italian Kitchen in Imperial Beach with her husband, Michele. Though Borelli’s background is in finance, she curated the restaurant’s wine list herself and manages much of the front-of-house operations. The restaurant is known for its Italian food and—you guessed it—balsamic offerings.
791 Palm Ave #101, Imperial Beach
Teriyaki Grill
Teriyaki Grill is a women-owned business that is bringing a new flavor to Chula Vista. Owner Casey Vu loves to cook and learned much of her skills from her previous travels around the world. Her restaurant is a reflection of that and offers Asian fusion cuisine, which has a little bit of everything from octopus tacos to steak sandwiches and teriyaki burgers.
380 3rd Ave,Ste B, Chula Vista
Cucina Urbana
Tracy Borkum, principal of Urban Kitchen Group, is credited with helping to revolutionize San Diego’s food scene. She’s spent 15 of her 25 years in the industry building and growing Bankers Hill’s Cucina Urbana, where she employs a full-time HR person to support her team—a rarity in the restaurant field.
505 Laurel St, San Diego
Always Hungry Grocery & Goods
Always Hungry Grocery & Goods in Carlsbad Village (which also operates as a pop-up in Oceanside) is the beautiful and intentionally stocked grocery store of your dreams. “[Inventory] must be local, support an underrepresented group, be absolutely the best in their category, or just be plain fun,” owner Katie Jayne says, pointing to items like Fox Point Farms’ sugar snap peas from Encinitas or Tethos’ non-alcoholic wines from North County.
505 Oak Avenue Suite B, Carlsbad | 110 N Myers St, Oceanside
Chicken Pie Shop
North Park’s Chicken Pie Shop has been in the Townsend family for four generations over 87 years. Lisa Townsend, the daughter-in-law of the restaurant’s original owners, currently handles the day-to-day operations. As general manager, Townsend brought the business into the modern age, adding the ability to pay by credit card, launching digital time cards, and more. The restaurant makes upwards of 3,000 pies daily.
2633 El Cajon Blvd, San Diego
Courtesy of Mujeres Brew House
Women-Owned Spirits Brands in San Diego
Altipiano Vineyard & Winery
Black- and veteran-owned Altipiano Vineyard & Winery was founded by Denise Clarke, a winemaker and internationally recognized connoisseur. She and her husband built Altipiano after losing their 900 avocado trees in a 2007 fire, and, in 2012, Clarke took over as the company’s full-time, in-house winemaker. Visit the couple’s Tuscan-style vineyard in Escondido to buy wines by the bottle, join the wine club, or participate in a private tasting.
Owner Carmen Velasco-Favela opened her Barrio Logan brewery, Mujeres Brew House, during the pandemic with an all-woman leadership team. The business takes inspiration from Mexican culture and offers fruit-forward beers and cocktail seltzers.
Julie Bogen is an experienced writer and digital strategist whose work has been featured in The Atlantic, The 19th News, Cosmopolitan Magazine, and more. She is passionate about storytelling that centers women and marginalized communities, and when not working she's either with her family or in a barre studio.
While glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1) receptor agents have been used to treat Type 2 diabetes for more than 20 years, their recent emergence as weight-loss wonder drugs marked a new frontier in medicine. But their effectiveness has left some patients wondering what to do once they’ve reached their goal. Stopping the medication could mean regaining some, if not all, of the weight. A Scripps Clinic internal medicine physician recently conducted a small study of whether GLP-1 patients who had reached their goal weight could maintain that weight by taking their regularly prescribed injection every other week instead of weekly. Spoiler alert: 30 of 34 patients did. Read more about the study here and what that may mean as pharmaceutical companies roll out oral GLP-1s.
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