Dinner at Lamia's, vol. 1
We need to talk about the Talking Heads.
A special thank you to Sera for reserving a seat at the proverbial table. Our friendship began in the hallowed halls of our graduate school in Berlin and has blossomed into a mutual adoration. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of being in her orbit, she’s like an eclipse - there’s no point in trying to photograph her because she’ll burn right through your retinas with her brilliance.
Start Making Sense
I wouldn’t call myself a die-hard fan of the Talking Heads; I’m familiar with their music but couldn’t confidently name one of their albums without a quick Spotify search first. A few Mondays ago, I accompanied a friend to a screening of A24’s restoration of the band’s seminal concert documentary “Stop Making Sense”.
The evening air was brisk and the sky held on to the final remnants of daylight; the city embraced the quiet comfort of fall. As I ducked into the theatre and tucked into my seat, the lights dimmed and David Byrne’s white sneakers strutted across the screen. With the strum of his guitar, his grey linen suit swayed to the swing of his bony hips and strands of his coiffed black hair came undone with the fervor of his head shakes. The movie theatre quickly became a concert venue; my fellow patrons danced in the aisles, grooved in their seats and clapped at the end of every song. 90 minutes of iconic choreography and undeniable hooks later, we funneled out of the hall in a collective daze; David Byrne and his band of misfits had gained a new admirer.
Since that fateful screening, my personality has been defined by their discography. My headphones have become a permanent accessory; I’ve been rinsing through every album and dissecting every song. I think it’s fitting that this obsession has cascaded into the week that I turned 28 - it honours the one aspect of my personality that has not changed over time. So, in the spirit of embracing the contemplative mood that your birthday brings, I have no trouble admitting to a long and storied history of disliking myself. This probably reads as more devastating than it is but I’m comfortable with sharing that I’ve struggled over time to find a home in my appearance, interests and personality.
I promise that this won’t be an essay that outlines a critical path to liking yourself (and even if it was, I am definitely not the authority to do that). However, I thought it would be worth looking into what other people have written regarding defining the self. In that search, I remembered learning about habitus in a sociology elective I took in undergrad. Pierre Bordieu outlined this framework that posits how our roles within institutions (such as our families, schools and workplaces) equip us with a set of skills and social resources that govern how we engage in society. Through habitus, we assign value to certain attributes that become our cultural capital (i.e. “conventional beauty” is good). Working through this thought exercise, I realized that if there’s at least one benefit to getting older, it’s that you begin to come to terms with the cognitive dissonance of the habitus that you’ve subscribed to.
It’s not necessarily about liking yourself more but it’s about shaking yourself free of the norms that have been projected onto you. What’s en vogue is meant to drive a profit and who you are is changing on a cellular level by the nanosecond, so find solace in knowing that you’ll continue to get it wrong (and that there isn’t a single person getting it right). Despite my previous sentiments, I’m probably the closest I’ve ever been to liking myself but it’s something I have to actively work on every day. With every year that has passed, it has given me the permission to pursue different versions of myself. Some iterations have been more successful than others, but I think I’ve gotten closer to elements that I feel more secure in. I have the privilege of defining life on my own terms which means I can lean into the people, places and things that make me feel at ease and use discomfort to challenge the notions I’ve previously held.
I wonder if David Byrne ever questioned whether the music he was making would fit into the genre his band had been wedged into. His music was intended to express his artistry in a way that no other medium could and here we are, 40 years later, revisiting a performance that defined an entire generation. Once you see the film, which I know you will, you’ll be inspired to achieve the level of unabashed authenticity he channeled on that fateful day. David was 32 when it was first released so if anything, that gives me another four years to start making sense.
Song of the week
Contrary to everything I’ve written about, this will not be a Talking Heads song.
“Stay Soft” - Mitski
These are a few of my favourite (Toronto) things
I’ve always been inspired by Sera’s lists of beautiful things/places/experiences so I’m sharing a succinct one for when you inevitably end up a visitor in my city.
For great vintage finds, walk west from Ossington along Dundas and hit up: Shopcoat, Good Habits, PIC, VSP Consignment, EXPO and Black Diamond Vintage.
For the best vegan ice cream (conveniently located in the middle of the strip of vintage stores mentioned above), get a scoop of mint chocolate chip (controversial choice I know!) from Honey’s.
For an unparalleled vegan dining experience, head to Hawker or La Bartola or for a quick bite, stop by Hello123, The Goods or Tsuchi Cafe.
For a well balanced cocktail, visit Northern Belle, Cocktail Bar or Bar Pompette and for a cheeky pint with friends, try Birreria Volo, Bandit Brewery or Ted’s Collision & Body Repair.
For a curated coffee experience, stop by Rooms, Sonndr or Hamers.
Again, thank you to Sera for inviting me to share some of my musings. She already knows how much I adore her but it bears repeating.
All my love,
Lamia
Note from Sera: For every generous word Lamia has said about me in this beautiful issue, I could easily say back tenfold about her. She is nothing but kindness and grace personified, and everyone who is fortunate enough to know her knows that she holds a rare empathy that colors her every action. Toronto is extremely lucky to have such a brilliant policy advocate in Lamia. My only wish is that Berlin could experience more of her.
You can find Lamia on Instagram: @lamiaaga — wish her a happy belated birthday!
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