My Latest Score
I bought a few of these vintage washed v-necks at Gap ($12-$19 depending on color) earlier this week and am smitten. I have been into wearing distressed denim, a v-neck, and some statement flats/sandals lately (I own a pair of snakeskin slides very similar to these that I’m digging right now) — the low vees are nursing-friendly, don’t require dry cleaning, feel ultra-soft against the skin, and just make life feel effortless. Plus, that price!
You’re Soooo Popular
Most popular items on Le Blog this week:
+My mini-steamer ($34). #lifesaver
+Striped asymmetric top ($69), for the second week running.
+Chic heeled statement sandals (on sale for $77).
I just (…a million years late) watched the documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop on street art and, more specifically, the legendary Banksy. Or, should I say, I just watched the mockumentary? (There is speculation that the entire documentary is an elaborate prank / commentary on art by Banksy himself.) There is so much going on regardless of whether you interpret the film as an artistic ruse by Banksy or as a more straight-forward documentary on several famous street artists–a lot of themes similar to the ones I ruminated over with regards to the installation of the fearless girl statue in Manhattan earlier this year. Issues of artistic trespass. Of ownership. Of commercialism. Of artistic intent. Of public consumption. (Just your casual Saturday morning fare, amirite? Ha.) There’s a great line at the end of Exit through the Gift Shop where one of the art dealers interviewed describes one of the street artists, who has allegedly manufactured dozens of meaningless art prints to the praise and acclaim of a very hungry L.A. public, as “playing a joke on…[pause] well, I’m not sure who the joke’s on.” I thought this truly cut to the quick of the entire nest of artistic issues with which the film grapples. It’s hard to pass judgment on anyone in the equation, as some of the artists appear to be confused, self-absorbed counterfeits with little artistic intent; the public seems to be painted as a brainwashed sheep, duped into obsessing over anything with celebrity and fanfare around it; the art dealers seem to buy into hype with little filter for artistic pedigree–but then, who cares? If someone finds artistic value in something, so be it; perhaps art doesn’t need to have any sweeping intent or ostensible talent behind it. It kind of brought to mind Jack Kerouac and Bob Dylan, TBH. (Effigies may be burned in my likeness for this opinion.) Dylan’s voice is horrible and off-key. Kerouac’s writing is a string of jumbled and maniacal run-ons. But both are considered geniuses because of the way in which they represent an energy, an ethos, a hippie zeitgeist in the 50s and 60s, and because of their appropriation and reimagination of a self-centric, undeniably American poetic voice paying implicit (at times explicit?) homage to Walt Whitman and other celebrated American artistic traditions of the past. Without that historical context, though, I wonder…
At any rate. Have y’all seen it? Penny for your thoughts!
+Love this denim cutout dress ($128).
+A blush bomber ($108) — I want to throw this over all the LWDs I seem to be snapping up this season.
+Mini and I have joined a baby playgroup with some lovely other mothers in my neighborhood. We have some upcoming playdates at a local pool, and while I have mini’s swimsuits ready and waiting (this one, monogrammed, and this rash guard set), I just snagged two of these reusable swimming diapers, which come very highly reviewed.