Beachs

Just like for much of the world, 2025 was a rough year for Casita Bookstore in Long Beach.

The Latina-owned business celebrated its third birthday on Dec. 3, but the milestone was marked by the sad realization that the store wasn’t going to make it through another year in its current location.

Shop owner Antonette Franceschi-Chavez posted a video on social media over the weekend discussing the store’s hardship.

“These last six months — especially in the summer — have been really hard, not only as a small business owner, but as a community, as a society,” she said. “We’ve depleted our savings, taken on some debt just to make sure we can make ends meet, but we’ve gotten to a point where we’re just not going to make it anymore.”

She explained that her business experienced a nearly 20% drop in sales year over year from 2024 to 2025. This situation has left her with two options: shut down the operation permanently or scale down the store to save some money and give the business a fighting chance.

In order to save jobs and build back up, Franceschi-Chavez announced that the store would be moving into a smaller place attached to her husband’s Long Beach barbershop — which is located within a couple of miles from Casita’s current location.

The video also included a plea for people to donate to a GoFundMe campaign.

“If our casita has ever touched you, helped you make a new friend, open your eyes to a new story, we’re asking for your help,” she said. “We need your help to be able to move, to be able to pay our employees, to be able to bounce back.”

(James Carbone / For De Los)

Franceschi-Chavez told The Times in a Wednesday phone interview that she began noting a marked drop in business beginning in September. In an effort to cut back on costs, she decided to stop some of the programming at the bookstore, including a cafecito club because getting coffee for people was becoming too expensive.

“We tried everything that we could to try and get more people in our doors,” she said. “We had to reach into our savings to cover those summer months. Then I started going into my credit cards. I had to start pulling small business loans. I was just digging myself into deeper holes because our sales were dropping and people were not walking in the door.”

The 38-year-old business owner hoped that her store and her two employees will be fully transitioned to their new location by around mid-February. She noted that the GoFundMe has helped ensure that her employees will be paid, even if the store has to shut down operations for a few weeks during the transition.

“The internet is a beautiful place sometimes — all these people that don’t know me, but they believe in our mission. They want to see women-owned small businesses and businesses of color continue in a world where Amazon can deliver something in five minutes and everything’s always on sale,” Franceschi-Chavez said.

“It’s really beautiful to see that people out there still really care about their community and about having a space for marginalized groups to grow, gather and connect to each other.”

Illustrating the levels of generosity from the public and financial struggle of the shop, Franceschi-Chavez said that in the four days since posting about the store’s troubles it reached the amount of sales that it did in all of December.

She explained that store hours will remain the same as usual as things get settled and cautiously expressed plans to have a couple of community events at the current location in the coming weeks.

The homey bookstore was featured in the De Los 101 guide as one of the 10 best Latino-owned bookstores and comic shops in L.A.

Amid the COVID-19 shutdowns, Franceschi-Chavez wanted to spend time with her daughter and decided to open a bookstore.

The former dual-language teacher often found that there were not enough Spanish-language books available for children to read, which is why the shop carries selections like “Papá’s Magical Water-Jug Clock” by comedian Jesús Trejo and “Tejedora del Arcoiris” by Linda Elovitz Marshall. The bookstore also prides itself on its selection of LGBTQ+ literature for children, including “The Hips on the Drag Queen Go Swish, Swish, Swish” by drag queen Lil Miss Hot Mess.

“It’s a little craftsman house that we turned into a bookstore, so it lent itself to the name,” Franceschi-Chavez said. “It makes you feel like you’re visiting your tia’s house. It’s so warm and that’s one of the biggest pieces that makes it really hard to let go. Our vision of that little dream is going away.”

Steph Sarah recalls a time in Venice Beach’s mythical skateboarding history — long before the sandy expanse on Ocean Front Walk became the world-famous skate park, a concrete playground where pro skaters are born.

“It was all boys,” says Sarah, a 36-year-old Venice Beach native who learned to skate at age 12. “If you did come across another girl skating, they were your competition, because there wasn’t even enough room for one girl to skate, let alone multiple girls.”

The group welcomes all skill levels and jokes that they’re the “world’s okay-est skaters.” (Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

On this Thursday night, that is distant history. As fog rolls in over the Venice Pier, Sarah skates alongside dozens of women on the coastal path. They belt out the lyrics to “Hey Jude” as singer Chloe Kat serenades them with a guitar in hand. Curious fishermen eye them, their fishing lines cast into the black ocean. But they pay no attention. Twirling under the moonlight, the women resemble a witch’s coven — their spells are good vibes, California weather and the boards beneath their feet.

Since its inception in 2018, GrlSwirl has been a leading force in creating a more inclusive skateboarding culture in Venice Beach — and across the world. The Venice Beach-based organization fosters community among female skateboarders. Twice a month, the group hosts nighttime “group skates” for women and community members. The event has exploded on social media, often attracting over 100 participants on warm summer nights.

“You get to witness what it’s like for people to break all the rules and show up fully as themselves,” Lucy Osinski, one of the co-founders of GrlSwirl, says of the group skates. “The weirder, the sillier, the more authentic, the better.”

Participants dodge a parking barrier gate during a nighttime group skate.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

Growing up in the world of professional ballet with its restrictive body standards and intense discipline, Osinski found newfound freedom in skateboarding. “I went from feeling so fragile and weak to so powerful,” she says. “It made me feel like I belonged and liberated in a way I had never experienced before.”

But when she moved to Venice Beach in 2017, skateboarding as a woman invited hostile attention. “Every time I would skate, people would catcall us or yell at us to do a kickflip,” she says. (“Do a kickflip” is considered a skateboarding taunt.) “I started chasing down any girl I saw on a skateboard. I made a text chain. I called it GrlSwirl.”

Osinski began posting about group skates on Instagram, where GrlSwirl gained traction. “The next week, 20 girls showed up just from word of mouth, and then the next week 40, and then the next 60, and then we had over 100 girls.” Soon, the group’s reputation attracted brand sponsorships and inquiries about starting chapters in new cities.

Today, the organization also doubles as a nonprofit that teaches underprivileged communities to skate worldwide, including surf-skate retreats that empower women and girls. Osinski explains that GrlSwirl has hosted skateboarding clinics from refugee camps in Tijuana to the first-ever women’s skate jam in the Navajo Nation. GrlSwirl has an international following with chapters in more than seven cities and an online community spanning 80 countries.

Lindsey Klucik, left, dances with friends to Christmas songs at the Venice Pier during a GrlSwirl group skate.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

Lucy Osinski rolls in with a skateboarding move.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

“Everything we’ve done from Day 1 is to make spaces and find ways to build community through skateboarding,” says Osinski. “People want to be in a village, but they don’t know how to be a villager. GrlSwirl is the village.”

The popularity of the bimonthly group skates has even attracted out-of-towners curious about the event. Osinski says the event has drawn tourists from Japan, Russia and more. Traveling from Salzburg, Austria, Karoline Bauer joined the skate with her partner while on vacation after following them on Instagram. “We were just looking for some community. We don’t have that back home,” Bauer says.

The group skate welcomes skateboarders of all skill levels. As a motto, the group jokes that they’re the “world’s okay-est skaters.” “We’re not looking for people to be shredding like crazy,” says Naomi Fulta, a team rider for GrlSwirl. “We have people who come here who literally have never stepped on a skateboard, to people who’ve been skating their whole lives.”

Yuka Okamura has been attending GrlSwirl’s group skates with her 10-year-old daughter for over five years. To her surprise, Okamura began learning to skateboard when her daughter started taking lessons. “I had no idea that I would start something new after I had a child. It’s amazing to share the joy and the experience with her,” she explains.

Yaya Ogun, a GrlSwirl team rider, poses with the group.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

For Yaya Ogun, one of the team riders, group skates are an opportunity to build community and make friends. Skateboarding naturally lends itself to community, she explains. Ogun attended her first GrlSwirl event alone and now rides as a sponsored skater. “You have to go someplace physical, you’re gonna meet people, you’re gonna make friends,” she says.

Ogun is a self-proclaimed pandemic skater. “There’s a huge wave of us who started either during or after the pandemic,” she says. “I grew up wanting to skate, but I just never had the time. And then all of a sudden, I had a lot of time,” she says with a laugh.

As a transplant from Texas, Ogun was drawn to GrlSwirl because the organization is anchored in the local community, which has experienced rent hikes and the closure of local institutions in recent years. “This is a special place, and it’s changing a lot,” laments Ogun. “We want to respect it and raise it up and not change anything.”

Osinski credits GrlSwirl’s success to its birthplace, Venice Beach, a place that celebrates uniqueness and community. Venice is a mecca for skateboarding, home to the Z-boys who revolutionized the sport in the 1970s and the subject of the documentary “Dogtown and Z-Boys.”

GrlSwirl aims to inspire people to “come together through the simple act of trying something new.”

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones/For The Times)

“Venice is a place of creation. You don’t have to look like a Venice skater to be a Venice skater. It’s about growing up and giving back,” Osinski says.

The girls skate into the evening, the sunset casting an orange light onto their smiling faces. Ogun declares her contempt for longboards — not to mention penny skateboards, which she says are a death trap. In the distance, waves carry surfers to the shore after their last surf of the day. As darkness falls on Venice Beach, the promise of something new swells.