The Girls In The Grey
Yachting Culture #25/1060.
SUPERYACHT ENGINEERS – PART II
The Girls in the Grey: Not your stew. Not your fantasy. Just your last line of defence.
By Chef Tom Voigt
Some guests mistake them for a junior stew…
“Oh how sweet, she’s helping clean the engine room!”
No darling.
She is the engineer.
She’s not helping.
She’s fixing the thing that keeps your rosé cold and your toilet flushing at 3am.
Let’s be clear:
She didn’t fall into engineering because she likes overalls.
She’s here because she’s good.
And because someone needs to crawl through the bilge like a mouse in the shadows to save your sorry weekend from becoming a rescue op.
They call her a unicorn.
They mean it as a compliment.
But really?
She’s more like a Phoenix—
Rising from the ashes of burnt wiring and broken fuel pumps—
Only to show up two hours later in a dress and heels that make the deckhands forget their own names.
She wears high heels that whisper “boardroom” but stomp like “bilge pump.”
Slight hint of diesel.
Heavy notes of don’t even try me.
She disappears like Batman into the underworld of the yacht—
Silent, unseen, deep into the steaming guts of steel, wires, and diesel.
No one noticed…
And then,
She strolls back to our table—flawless, in a dress like a weapon.
Winks without a word and orders a bloody steak.
She sips a very dry martini.
As if nothing had happened.
And maybe nothing had.
Just a minor leak.
Or the beginning of the end.
By day, she’s as precise and versatile as a Navy SEAL, a Swiss Army knife.
When night falls, she’s pure Marly Delina.
Yes, she drinks.
Yes, she swears.
Yes, she can strip a watermaker faster than you can Google “why is my engine smoking.”
She can tell a lie from a pump by ear.
She knows the generators better than her ex.
And she will, without a doubt, drink you under the table on a Tuesday—
Then fix the stabilisers on Wednesday while you nurse your ego and a hangover.
She doesn’t post selfies from the engine room.
Not because she couldn’t.
But because she doesn’t have time for your vanity metrics.
She’s busy keeping the boat alive.
And no, she doesn’t need a hashtag for that.
At crew dinner, she arrives late.
Not because she’s slow.
But because she was still inside a fan belt when you were choosing your shirt.
And when she walks in, smelling faintly of hand soap and heaven—
Everyone goes silent.
Deckhands suddenly find their manners.
Stews take notes.
The captain adjusts his posture.
She doesn’t demand attention.
She is attention.
She is not your dream girl.
She is your emergency contact.
She’s not one of the boys.
She’s not one of the girls.
She’s one of the gods.
And while you wonder how her lipstick stayed on during a coolant flush,
She’s already down in the bilge again—
Saving your trip,
Your pride,
And your engines.
Because real engineering doesn’t care about gender.
But it’s about time yachting started to.
#Yachtgasm
#TheGirlInTheGrey
#DieselAndHighHeels
#SuperyachtPhoenix
#NoEngineerNoYacht
#TorqueMeTender
#GoddessOfTheBilge
#SheKnowsWhatThatNoiseWas