Vol. 3 | Philia

A good friendship is a force to be reckoned with.

“Do you think friendships are romantic?” I turned in bed to face my roommate, Katie, who was leaning against my doorframe. 

Back then, our apartment had a tradition. If someone had a bad day, we’d buy them a slice of cake. At first, it was a show. We’d come home, cake in hand, and deliver it to their door. Then, it became casual. There was no announcement or I hope things get better speech—just a jingle of keys and the sound of cake landing on the counter. It was part of our typical routine, like grabbing the next pint of milk or restocking the paper towels. And as the person who needed it most, I found the gesture quite sweet. Katie hadn’t given it much thought. 

“What do you mean?” She laughed, so I laughed, too. Right, of course not. 

I let it go, but I haven’t stopped thinking about the concept. To Katie, buying a slice of Funfetti felt like an act of service—a way of saying “chin-up”—but not romance. Romance, she deduced, is reserved for the people we sleep with. Not the people we sleep near. So why can a good friendship feel just as special? 

Since moving to New York nine years ago, I’ve bonded with people who’ve seen me through a tumultuous coming of age. Every moment with them feels important, like the start of a story I’ll tell my kids someday. To put it simply, my friends are my soulmates. A group of women who knew me before I ever was one. I’ve got their back, and they’ve got mine. Always. Anytime. No questions asked. If that’s not romantic, then what is it? 

Apparently, the Greeks figured it out years ago: Philia. 

Philia (n) is an especially abnormal love for a specified thing. That sounds about right. Philia is why I hung up Katie’s artwork when she moved to London. And why we find every excuse to keep in touch. It’s why Merrell gave me her favorite sweatshirt, knowing it was my favorite, too. It’s why I’ve always planned Caroline’s birthdays. And why I toured apartments in Brooklyn with Eunice—though I hoped she’d stay in Manhattan (she didn’t). 

You’d have to love something abnormally to care so much. 

Unfortunately, friendship isn’t given the same emotional heft as romance. There aren’t many love songs about the people you just click with. Instead, swoon-worthy melodies are reserved for the loves we search for and the loves we’ve lost. Seeing that this is a music newsletter, I’ve spent the last month scouring Spotify for songs that feel like Philia. Honestly? The selection wasn’t great, but I found a few and reconnected with a track that, to me, symbolizes female friendship. 

Boygenius nailed it with “True Blue.” In the chorus, they sing, “And it feels good / To be known so well / I can’t hide from you / Like I hide from myself.” The key to a lasting friendship is the ability to see through each other. Lorde had the right idea, too, in “Perfect Places,” where she sings of being young and dumb but never lonely. Then, of course, there’s “Dancing Queen,” which can make any group of women bust a move. 

Though it’s not about friends, “Girls Against God” reminds me of mine. The song hails from Florence and the Machine’s 2022 album, Dance Fever. It was written during the pandemic when Florence Welch wasn’t sure if she’d ever perform again. She was angry. Furious, really, for being held back from what she loved most. 

Florence spoke about the lyrics at her Blackburn performance in 2022. There, clad in a red gown, she explained: 

“God is for me—in these rooms with you. And I have seen so much love in these halls from my 10-15 years. So, I was having a kind of complete spiritual collapse at the shutting down of all shows and all the faces I felt connected. So, I kind of imagined an army of furious girls in their pajamas waging war on heaven. Because I was very, very angry and I was in my pajamas most of the time. And so, this song is kind of about that feeling.”

A month later, she redefined the track during a show at Alice Tully Hall. “I would like to dedicate this song to everyone fighting for the right to choose,” she said. “This is for you. I am so angry for you, and I love you!” 

To me, “Girls Against God” is about how we show up for each other when faced with uncertainty.  It’s my friends who’ve picked me up and patched me together. For them, I’ve done the same. As Florence wails, “Oh, God, you’re going to get it / You’ll be sorry that you messed with us,” I can’t help but think about all the times we’ve been there for each other. Like in high school, when I helped a friend bake a hate cake for her boyfriend. He’d been caught in a lie, so we left it on his doorstep. Philia is probably why I offered to put a laxative in it, luckily (for him), we decided not to. 

Nevertheless, a good friendship is a force to be reckoned with. As Philia suggests, an “abnormal love’ brings passion, tenderness, and anger along with it. Sometimes, that means writing a song and cursing the heavens. Sometimes, it means buying a slice of cake. It might not be romantic, but that’s ok. It’s just as special.