guilty conscience fashion blog

prada

Walls

Miami, Florida

You could say I’ve kinda hit a wall as of late. Writing weekly entries on this blog used to be my escape, my favourite method of self expression, my way of speaking out on issues, or confessing all the big and little things in life that were and weren’t going my way. Now it feels as though I only speak of the weather. I use to share…I used to swear! This text used to feel more like my voice then when I actually spoke aloud. I’m not sure if I lost that because these posts became less frequent, and images started speaking my 1000 words on instagram, or if maybe I lost a bit of myself along the way, while trying to appeal to everybody from clients to my audience. All I know is I’d like to go back to those good old days. I’d like to talk to you guys like an old friend again. Admit all of my wrongs, my neurosis, my short comings, not just use these 200 words as an episode recap of what you missed last week on your favourite sitcom. Though I do want to bring back my Gilmore Girl-esque obscure references, from TV, film, and song that really brought together those who understood them. I want the words to flow out of me about everything and nothing the way they always seemed to before. Kind of the way they are now. I hope you guys enjoy this little renaissance, and don’t mind if I step back out of the box a little. Can’t wait to tell you how I’m feeling next week….but so far I feel fucking great.

FSTVL sunnies, Rag & Bone denim jacket, Reformation dress, Louis-Vuitton “Petite Boîte Chapeau”, and Prada platform wingtips.

Those Good Old Days

Montreal, Canada

Is it just me or does it already feel like our current snowy landscape has been around for an eternity. Winter has come folks, and I’ve grown so pale I’m blending into the background perfectly. With the exception of my nostrils of course which have been brutalized by tissues to the point where…let’s just say I could probably start raising money for HIV/AIDS research by selling them in their new colourway. I no longer remember a time where I could breath properly, or could climb a flight of stairs without being out of breath, and am constantly either hypothermic or sweating profusely without ever finding a happy medium. Remember when Joey’s weird roommate Eddie on Friends turned out to be a dehydrating maniac, well I’m pretty sure I could only feel dryer by living in his fruit torturing machine.

Ok you get it, I’m congested, thermally unbalanced, and in dire need of some kind of humid climate. It’s crazy how every year Winter surprises us Canadians as if we’ve never lived here before. I find myself saying “was it  this cold last year” on the daily, and don’t understand how my ancestors didn’t take mater into their own hands decades ago and move their future descendants to the Bahamas. Not sure if they were given options before getting on the boat from Ireland, but if they were, let’s just say they made a big mistake…HUGE. In these moments there are only so many things a girl can do. I’ve resorted to venting on the internet, spending most days in my basement playing Super Mario Odyssey, and reflecting on the good old days when the grass was still visible and not slowly dying under think sheets of powdered cold stuff. Speaking of which these photos, were taken in the end of September, where if I recall correctly, I began complaining about it being a little chilly. If only I knew then what I know now….

Christian Dior necklace, Balmain cargo vest, dress from Winners, Prada Cahier bag, and Tod’s creepers.

The Floating City

_w7c0439 Venice, Italy

During our time in the city of water, canals and bridges, I had the chance to cross off many items on my bucket list, and even some I never had the kahunas to put on there in the first place. When I first visited Venice as a younger lass, I dreamt of a romantic gondola ride with a cute Ashton Kutcher lookin’ fella’ from the cruise ship we had just disembarked. Instead I got to ride with my father, in the tourist infested canals, while the man rowing us sang romantic hymns probably assuming we were a couple, and I was a child bride. Not what tween dreams are made of. So you can imagine my absolute delight riding this banana boat next to my husband, under the stars, after gondola rush hour, and drinking champagne on our way to dinner at Harry’s Bar. I mean the singing was still somewhat awkward, but like wayyy more warranted. I must have some good karma or something, because that moment was 10 years in the making. Never give up on your dreams kids!

When we arrived at my favourite iconic Italian eatery, none other that Harry Cipriani was sitting next to us, eating with very VERY old friends. He’s like 90, what did I expect, that he’d be hanging out with the cast of Stranger Things or something. Anyway, I tensed up rather quickly, as I really wanted to tell him that by creating the Bellini, he made the the alcoholic I am today, and then another perfect moment occurred, he walked to our table to say hello…and I went full vow of silence. Weird the people you get starstruck by. I should have figured that anyone who provides the yummies in my tummy, would be the ones I admire most. Anyways, Mr. Cipriani, was the loveliest of all gentlemen. Though I didn’t tell him about my affinity for his peach cocktail, I did muster up a few words about his Meringue cake being our absolute favourite and also our wedding cake…and then something wonderful happened. Not only did, Arrigo Cipriani grace us with a photo to remember that moment forever, but he sent over cake. Dead. To quote Lizzie McGuire on her own Italian adventure, “this is what dreams are made of”. Moral of the story is, reach for the stars, go the distance, because dreams are wishes your heart make and therefore you should always Hakuna Matata, and…I can’t kinda muster another Disney song to conclude this sentence but you get the picture.

_w7c0524 _w7c0472 _w7c0543 _w7c0604 _w7c0489 _w7c0561 _w7c0535 _w7c0508 _w7c0585 _w7c0551 _w7c0591 Coining the term “botanical garden chic”

Bottega Veneta sunnies, Zara top and pants, vintage Hermes Kelly, and Prada slippers.

That’s Amore

_w7c9692 Rome, Italy

Happy humpday kids! Nothing screams Wednesday quite as much as dressing inappropriately for the weather and riding in a tiny clown car with no AC all over Rome, am I right? So I thought what better time than now, to share our adventures in the eternal city with you today. All jokes, aside this day visiting Rome was the most surreal and wonderful experience I’ve ever had traveling. I felt transported back in time, and Hepburn-esque riding in these adorable death machines. Sidenote, I say Hepburn”esque” because we all know Miss Audrey wasn’t one to show as much cleave’ and navel, but slutty little me is apparently.

From the Coloseum to the the Knights of Malta keyhole, we saw it all, as this was only the beginning of what became the tourist adventure of a lifetime. I can’t spoil all the good stuff from the rest of the trip yet, but let’s just say, you’ll be getting more island vibes from the #OOTD from our next stop. Until then, behold my swassy self, not letting them beads of sweat get me down, and having the time of my life.

_w7c9586 _w7c9591 _w7c9628 _w7c9630 _w7c9697 _w7c9613 _w7c9685 _w7c9623 _w7c9638 _w7c9622 _w7c9649 img_7267 _w7c9740 _w7c9722 _w7c9766 _w7c9747 _w7c9772 _w7c9754 _w7c9761 _w7c9785 l1030489 l1030484 img_7386-2 _w7c9847 _w7c9844
Note to self: STOP telling people how sweaty you always are…it ain’t cute.

Eugenia Kim “Daydreamer” hat, Celine sunnies, Storets top, Topshop “Mom” jeans, vintage Hermes “Kelly” bag, and Prada slippers.