There is a specific magic that happens when you close a tabloid and open a memoir. One tells you what happened; the other tells you why it matters.
Welcome back to P-S Vol. 42. This week, we are obsessed with a single concept: The Pivot.
Not the corporate buzzword. The human one.
From the way we decorate our quiet corners to the way our favorite artists reinvent themselves mid-chorus, volume 42 is all about how we adapt, survive, and find style in the unexpected. p-sluts vol. 42
Let’s dive in.
On the entertainment side, P-S Vol. 42 is fascinated by the "Fleabag Effect"—the fourth wall break that went from gimmick to gut-punch.
What we’re watching: Late Night with the Devil (Hulu). Ignore the gore. Pay attention to the set design. It is a masterclass in 1970s analog horror meets modern existential dread. It asks the question: How far would you go for a rating? There is a specific magic that happens when
What we’re listening to: The surprise drop of the month isn’t an album—it’s a lo-fi jazz remix of vintage video game soundtracks. It turns out the music from Donkey Kong Country is the perfect soundtrack for washing dishes on a rainy Sunday. It scratches an itch you didn’t know you had.
The Verdict: Entertainment is no longer about escape. It is about reflection. We want art that looks back at us and nods.
The opening chapter, “Beyond the Guilty Pleasure,” by M. Nakamura, traces how lifestyle entertainment was dismissed by the Frankfurt School as mere distraction. However, Nakamura argues that reality television and influencer culture operate through pastoral power (Foucault) – guiding viewers toward self-improvement via cooking competitions, fitness challenges, and decluttering shows. Unlike direct coercion, these formats produce voluntary compliance: the viewer learns to monitor their own leisure time, turning entertainment into a workshop for the self. The human one
Bourdieu’s Distinction also runs through the volume. Several authors note that lifestyle media has democratized (or rather, commercialized) taste. Where once class was signaled through exclusive knowledge of art or wine, today’s lifestyle entertainment offers “accessible sophistication” – a $15 IKEA hack or a 10-minute yoga flow. This, the volume contends, masks the persistence of cultural capital: those who can perform wellness and productivity while appearing effortless still win the status game.
K. O’Malley’s contribution, “Breathwork and Brand Deals,” analyzes Instagram and YouTube wellness influencers. Drawing on Foucault’s biopolitics, O’Malley shows how influencer content blurs entertainment with health surveillance. The follower is invited to “enjoy” a guided meditation, but the underlying message is one of risk management: optimize your sleep, your gut microbiome, your cortisol levels, or face diminished productivity.
Crucially, O’Malley identifies a gendered dimension. Female influencers are disproportionately tasked with emotional and physical wellness content, and their entertainment value lies in performing vulnerability (sharing anxiety, burnout, recovery) while simultaneously monetizing that disclosure. Thus, lifestyle entertainment becomes a double bind: women must appear authentic yet aspirational, broken yet fixable.