“Everybody loves us
Everybody loves our town
That’s why I’m thinking lately
The time for leaving is now.” - Mudhoney, “Overblown”
When I went to Berlin this summer to spend some days with one of my two BFFs from Italy, I didn’t have a specific interest or goal in mind like the two last occasions when I went to the German capital. Of course, a restaurant or two, a new neighbourhood to explore, a possible exhibition, you name it. But I wasn’t particularly interested in things that I’ve been interested in the last two years anymore. So what was I doing there this time apart from celebrating my friend’s birthday?
Exciting things always happen there. We ended up going to a movie premiere where some pretty cool actors - including Felix Kramer! - attended, but it was just on the last day of the trip - when I grabbed my morning cappuccino in a coffee shop that I love in Prenzlberg next to the Volkspark Friedrichshain - on a sunny Wednesday of the month of August, that I understood what brought me to Berlin this year: a meeting with my inner child.
The place was playing Alice in Chains Unplugged at 8h30 - which I don’t think is usual, even in Berlin - and that woke up the “little me”—a little me who had completely forgotten her own favourite music taste and had been mistreated. I’ve been actually flirting with my grunge passion since the beginning of Venus retrograde at the end of July when I came across the new biography of Dave Grohl and his memories of Nirvana and Kurt. Venus, when retrograde, and especially in Leo, makes us tap into our inner child and rediscover hobbies that bring us joy, returning to a childhood pastime or a personal interest we had completely forgotten about.
This led me to a whirlwind of events: reconnecting with pre-adolescent memories, my first rock music experiences, and emotions and people linked to a period of life that was very happy for me and founded many experiences that brought me to where I am today. It was even awkward and funny at the same time to explain to friends of my years in London that there is a grunge soul behind a more ladylike look with a fancy taste for restaurants and clothes. “You don’t look like someone who is into Alice in Chains”, I’ve been hearing a lot lately. But know that Would? is one of the songs that connects me the most with the memories I have with my sister, for example.
I was overwhelmed by the amount of content that was available on the Internet to revisit this past - in 1999, at the apex of my passion, we didn’t have the World Wide Web as we have today. As the technology evolves, so does its intellectual properties. Revisiting this after 24 years brought me a backlog of things that I missed.
It was days of reading books about the Seattle Music Scene - from Everybody Loves Our Town by Mark Yarm to Sing Backwards and Weep by Mark Lanegan, and re-watching Singles, the 1992 movie by Cameron Crowe, bringing a love story soundtracked by Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Screaming Trees and everything that was unfolding at the time in this North-West part of the States - a film that at the beginning of the 2000s, living in Brazil took me years to find, and now I could easily buy it in one-click in the Apple TV+ app minutes before my flight departed to London.
I spent hours watching documentaries and reading books and pages about Layne Staley, with whom I always had a strong adolescent crush, even though my attention was more on Cobain, for whom I had an explosive obsession at the time, which didn’t allow much room to explore Layne’s path. Apparently, it was time to make up for it.
One of the greatest frustrations of that time was loving a band so much, but maybe too late, a terrible and powerless feeling of not being born in the “right” generation to see our idols alive. Not having Kurt around was always a difficult pill to swallow. But Layne was still alive, a comforting blanket to digest the grief for the “grunge is dead” idea surrounding that time.
Some years passed. It was 2002, and I was still in school. I remember hearing the news about Layne’s passing at a time when I wasn’t that connected with Nirnava and grunge anymore. Still, it hurt. Although tragic and depressing, experiencing this moment was historical because I was witnessing something that was important to me. I didn’t have this chance with Kurt. Both Layne and Kurt had been the voices I had turned to for comfort during my adolescence and beyond. And now, Layne was gone too.
Just now, in 2023, I realised that I neglected some nuances of my colour palette, didn’t grieve Layne’s death enough or was able to be his fan enough.
In adulthood, full of responsibilities, managing the outside world through diplomacy and humour, the little me was tired, angry, hungry for attention, and begged to remember the old times when my only responsibility was studying and spending the whole afternoon listening to In Utero to channel the transformation of my inner world, just to talk about music and other shit with friends during class the day after; to consciously honour that part of me that might need to withdraw, hide out, and enjoy private pleasures without playing the adult role.
Crossing paths with Layne and his music again was a way for me to feed that mistreated inner child. I didn’t know I needed this until this all happened.
The universe's way of telling me I was in the right place at the right time - that it was OK to be back to some old hobbies and feeling like I was 14 - was through synchronicities. To name just a few, I found a picture of Layne photographed in the same place and sidewalk in Berlin that I was walking through the day before this whole reconnection happened in that coffee shop the morning after. The same. Come on, Berlin is not a tiny neighbourhood.
I discovered that one of the most important friends of my adolescence was also suddenly obsessed with Layne and Alice in Chains, and we were basically listening to the same music at the same time, which connected us and made me deep dive into some situations of the past that needed attention; when in Stockholm last week, where I knew the band played in 1993, we took a ferry by mistake, taking us directly to Nacka Strand, which I had no idea where it was. I only knew it was far away and not the place we wanted to go in Södermalm.
Annoyed, impatient, and blaming Mercury retrograde, when finally on land and waiting for the boat to head us back to Nybrokajen, it stopped at Alberget, a bit far away from the city centre but in the exact location and almost in front of the…Cirkus, precisely where they performed the gig in 1993 (!). As we didn’t have much time in the city, I didn’t include the venue on our to-go list initially. Well, apparently, the universe had other plans for me!
When going to the cinema to watch Past Lives, I also realised I had more things to heal and pay attention to. Yes, it’s a story of lost love and childhood crush, the painful and dangerous access to the past given by digital media, and themes related to what I was revisiting, but also about how many migrants feel belonging to two places at once. In an excellent and emotional article I read in Elle, something resonated with me more than I expected:
“… but also, the thing she’s grieving is the little girl that she never got to say goodbye to properly.”
In this mix, I concluded that not only my inner child was needy, but I might not have said a proper goodbye to Brazil when I relocated and all of the loved ones I left behind, a decision that I never reflected on how hurtful was for those who stayed.
Or maybe the goodbye was so properly given that it left my flannel-shirted past simply wanting to be reminded, present, whispering to me that to be in another place, in another age, with other people, I don’t have to give up on my roots entirely or at all. That I’m here because I started there. And revisiting this can be a simple “play button” away.
As Layne alive was what I found comfort in the past, now I find comfort in what the movie brings as a Korean concept of in-yun, based on the Buddhist idea of reincarnation, or how fate brings two people together based on countless connections in their previous lives.
In-yun is basically about how you can’t control who walks into your life..and who stays. Knowing for sure that Layne’s voice in that Alice in Chains song following me that morning was not by chance, I’m comfortable in knowing that whatever or whoever is walking into my life right now - the past, the present, the future - is supposed to be here. In whichever form this might be - by musical, human or spiritual understanding.
You, my reader, and I are in in-yun, too.
I’m obsessed with my new turquoise ceramic flat-white mug from Pophams Home
Book a table at Story Deli on Cambridge Heath Road. Behind closed doors, Lee and her wife have this special place where they sell British linen during the day and offer pizza made from 100% certified organically grown ingredients in the evenings. I never experienced something similar in London. They are the sweetest hosts, welcoming you with kindness, holding your hands and saying goodbye with a warm hug, telling stories about life in the UK, and sitting with you at a huge central table; they have a dog, Dottie, who will jump onto the table to stand by your side. As the rain cancelled the plans of many, our reservation was the only one left. Lucky us. Lighted candles, rustic decoration, and a place to remember forever
I never expected to like Stockholm that much. We had the best dining experience at Matbaren, a funky Michelin-starred bistro by famous chef Mathias Dahlgren located in the Grand Hotel. Epic!
Café Leon Dore, part of the Aimé Leon Dore store in Soho, the famous Queens-based label that’s been a favourite in the New York fashion scene for almost a decade, has the most incredible interior design and a menu with freddo cappuccino, your next obsession
8 Bishops Gate is a new building to witness uninterrupted views of the City’s iconic landmarks, impressive skyscrapers, and historic architecture, admission-free. The following slots are available only for December. It’s hot. Don’t miss!
Muswell Hill is in its glory. Stella’s Room serves brunch and Sunday roasts in a cosy environment that doesn’t deny you’re in North London; they don’t even have a website
My favourite gelateria in London has been named: Romeo & Giulietta, in Stokey, close to Clissold Park, and is a must-visit. The best flavour of summer was their watermelon sorbet
P.S.: as you might have realised, I’m not sending this newsletter monthly or periodically on the 1st of the month anymore. I’m now sending it whenever I feel like it. And va bene così.
x, NB