guilty conscience fashion blog

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La Vie en any Colour You’d Like

Montreal, Canada

I know what you’re thinking. We read the title Claude…are you really going to dedicate a whole other blog post on the colour pink and how Edward Cullen enamoured you’ve been with the hue this summer. No, but I had to address how fun those rose coloured glasses are, am I right? Everyone go out and invest in cheap coloured lens glasses, really funks up an outfit. For a fashion blogger I really don’t make recommendation or statements like that one often…which brings up the questions…what in the world is it I blog about then?

I always look at my fellow fashion feens in the blogger-sphere, and how lifestyle, health, fitness, and tip friendly they are an wonder…have I been doing it wrong all along? I know I preach about never comparing yourself to others and just doing you all the time, but a girl sometimes wonders you know. Have I been addressing my audience with the wrong topics? Instead of keeping you guys up with my current neuroses and thoughts of the week should I have been sharing 5 ways to style a pyjama blouse, or what lip colour is like… “the it shade” for fall.

I just never gave myself the authority to tell anyone how they should wear their clothes or which trendy items they should be buying right now. To me styling and fashion is such a clear way of expressing your individuality, mood, and telling the world who you are, that it would feel wrong to even suggest how you guys should choose to dress. Sure, I like when you inspire yourselves from my OOTDs, and get tons of warm and fuzzies when I’m tagged in photos of you guys wearing pieces I wore, but mostly I love that you make them your own. So, I guess that’s what the blog post was about today. Individuality, and celebrating the things in life that bring us together yet set us apart…like fashion. How I managed to turn a post about pink glasses into another preachy rant I’ll never know….

Urban Outfitter sunnies, Christian Dior tee, Zara skirt, Loewe bag, and Celine flats.

Suburbia

Montreal, Canada

We’ve made it folks. Peter and I are finally residing in our new home, and boy is it pretty. It’s crazy to see how much your quality of life can improve, with just a change of scenery. I mean sure, it may just be the excitement talking, but I wake up every day with the morning light feeling light and fluffy on our little cloud. That being said the work that comes with turning a house into your dream home has been somethin’. Only two days of having the keys in hand we had most of our furniture in place, all of our things put away, and thought the end of our little move was in sight. Then…the OCD kicked in and oh boy did it come in hard. For the last two weeks I have been organizing every inch of the past 8 years of my life so our every possession fulfills its destiny by finding its way to the spot it was always meant to be in. It sounds crazy because it is. I can literally tell you on which shelf, of which cupboard, in which room, anything is…and boy does it feel good.

Peter does a ton around the house, but when it comes to organizing my way, bless his soul, the man can’t handle the heat. I started to organize his boot closet yesterday and after asking him to take over for a minute, I came back to a ton of dirty sneakers mismatched piled up in the back of a shelf. He wanted to make it clear to his future self that those were the yucky used sneakers…I could have died. So I got back to work, and haven’t stoped since. That’s kind of how all of our days have been as of late. Honestly, I can’t complain. I think that if you set aside the fact that I’m going absolutely crazy, I’m kind of enjoying myself. It’s a beautiful day in this neighbourhood, like everyday.

Balenciaga cap, Ray Ban sunnies, Zara shirt and trousers, Christian Dior bag, and Christian Louboutin heels

Pearly Whites

Montreal, Canada

 We are just beginning to enter the chaos that promises to be our moving week, and all that is currently running through my mind is all the little things I’m probably going to forget to do later. Due to this, I fear this blog post’s literary ambitions may suffer, unless you’d like to hear about how I’m planning on post-it-ing every material object in my house, to indicate where it’s going and facilitate moving day. My OCD game has never been stronger, which should serve as a home team advantage.

Also the phrase “when it rains, it pours” has never ringed truer both literally and figuratively. Work and events seems to be piling up almost as much as the homeless denim living on my closet floor, and a short lived monsoon hit us this morning. So ya…Mother Nature needs to go back on her Summer meds because she’s been feeling a little manic thus far.

All that being said, we cannot wait to move into our new house and make it a home, so all this stressing and preparation feels like a small price to pay. If you haven’t seen it yet make sure to check out our condo tour on the channel, to get a glimpse of the calm before the storm I’ve been eagerly referring to. Can’t wait to share it all with you!…but until then feel free to pray for my mental well being.

Chanel broach and bag, Zara Tee and blazer, Vintage Levis jean, and No. 21 pumps.

The F Word

New York, New York

Women’s rights, is the issue that lives closest to my heart. That pulls its strings every time an uneducated sentence on the topic is mustered, every time an ignorant statement is made. There is so much I want to say on the subject, so much that I don’t know where to start. My fingers are paralyzed by the weight and importance of what needs to be expressed so it can be understood. The strong women who raised me, the powerful figures that molded me, and the voiceless women living injustice deserve more than I could ever convey in a blog post. So instead I thought I would share a piece with you guys. A piece I wrote it when I was 17, when I first found the courage to voice that I deserved just as much as the boys.

“I want talk about words. The power of words. The word feminist to be exact. First of all let me ask you. Do you identify yourself as a feminist?  No? Then are you someone who genuinely believe that women don’t deserve or aren’t as much as men?…There’s a discrepancy there. “I’m not a sexist but I’m not a feminist,” people think that there is a difference between the words, like middle ground between two extremes. Let me tell you the truth you either believe that women should be politically, socially, and economically equal to men or you don’t, there is no middle ground between the two. By definition you are either a misogynist who dislikes, despises, or is strongly prejudiced against women or a feminist, it’s that simple.

You see there is a problem within the root of the word feminist itself. Not so much the “femin” part but the “ist,” that fateful “ist” is in bad company.  Racist, ageist, sexist, these words have absolutely no positive connotation, and serve very different purposes then the word feminist. That’s a line that we’ve crossed with the word. Anything on the other side is shameful, and many believe feminists belong in the same ranks. All this talk trying to help the reputation of a word, and I have yet to define it. I believe a quote by Gloria Steinem will do the trick “A feminist is anyone who recognizes the equality and full humanity of women and men.” Or better yet one by author Cheris Kramarae “Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings.”  I am a feminist, I do not hate men, or consider myself better than those who belong to the other sex. I do not refuse to shave my legs, or to wear a bra as a political statement. I also don’t think believing in this cause makes me radical or scary. Desmond Tutu said “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor” so listen to Desmond and next time someone asks you if you are a feminist, please raise your fucking hand.”

DIO(R)EVOLUTION

Saint-Laurent sunglasses, Iro leather jacket, Zara fringe skirt, and Christian Dior tee, bag, and slingbacks.