guilty conscience fashion blog

zara

Hey Mama Welcome to the 70s

_w7c1019 Houston, Texas

Is it just me or did I try really hard to look like a librarian this day. While in Texas last month I had the best time getting dressed in my best interpretation of southern garb. From cowgal touches, to 70s prairie companion flair, this was the most fun I had getting dressed since festival season. I guess KidRock was right because I DO want to be a cowboy baby. This look was all kinds of Chloé inspired and I had a great time living in a different decade for the day.

Now onto more current news, our ConscienceCoupable YouTube channel is officially up and running and we have been having so much fun with it lately! New stuff, from adventure vlogs, to silly fashion related videos, will be coming out every Wednesday! Woohoo! We welcome suggestions and encourage you guys to comment on our videos or Instagram to let us know what YOU want to see next, because we are new to the YouTube game, and the internet is a scary place, but mostly because we would love nothing more than to do this thing together with you guys, so that our channel can truly become ALL OF OUR channel…Did that make sense? It was meant to be like…sentimental..and inclusive…and cute and stufff. ANYWAY. Make sure to SUBSCRIBE, to get all the good stuff first and I can’t wait to see you all on Wednesday. Well technically you guys will be seeing me but…you get what I’m saying!…
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Is it just me, or are these glasses giving me all kinds of Barb vibes?

Chloe sunnies, “Faye” bag, and “Suzanna” boots, and Zara blouse and denim dress.

Paris, Je T’aime

_w7c1759 Paris, France

The time has finally come, to conclude our european adventure on the blog and I’m kinda bummed about it. The past couple of weeks have been filled with not so great news, and reliving the amazing moments we had while away, felt like a nice escape and kept me hopeful for more of them to come ahead. I have to stop the sobbing and self pity, I’m starting to bum out the very readers I’m trying so hard to amuse with my butt jokes. Besides, we’re not quite as done with the Eurotrip as I’m leading on. To celebrate the third anniversary of ConscienceCoupable we have been working on something new and extra special that I cannot wait to share with you all… but until then let me tell you about the last stop of our European road trip.

Paris is where the best Pain au Chocolat lives. It is also where the fashion houses I am most devoted to came to inception, and where their creative teams remain today. What else can I tell you about Paris?…The food is something else, the garments and the artistry behind them are respected the way I feel they always should be, and my favourite lady lives there. Her name is Eiffel, and she sure is a sight for sore eyes. There is also the Louvre, that I’m saving for a future trip when I start caring appropriately about the kind of art that I cannot wear. It is home to my favourite vintage shopping (Didier Ludot), my favourite cheese cake (it’s at Hotel Costes, you GOTTA try it), and my favourite memories after this trip with my husband & parents. We had a pretty unbelievable time, and I’m sure if you have visited the city of lights you might share a similar experience….and if you haven’t all I can say is lucky you, because you have a lot to look forward to. Though it has nice to have been home the past week or so, my vagabond spirit has started to chime up, and we are off on the road again tomorrow. I can’t help it..there’s just so much to see!

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The Braidy Bunch…see what I did there….

Chanel sunnies and bag, Zara mini dress, and Alexander Wang sneakers.

Amster Dayum!

_w7c0942 Amsterdam, Netherlands

It had always been a dream of mine to visit the Netherlands. Now, I know what you’re all thinking, but in no way was I in it for the coffee shops, I just really love a nice pair of wooden shoes. Well those, the canals, the tulips, the museums, the history. Amsterdam is a city full of endless discoveries, wonderful people, and pancakes, really wonderful yummy pancakes! I fell in love with the Venice of the North, almost instantly…but then I started fearing for my life. As someone who’s is pretty mediocre at riding a bicycle, has no balance, and very little trust in the two wheeled invention, having my life constantly threatened by herds of them cause what some may call a little anxiety. Feeling like  Simba in the middle of the wildabeast stampede, holding on for dear life on that little branch, gets old real quick let me tell you. I’m super happy for mama earth, as this green alternative for getting around probably makes her hate us a little less for pollution, waste, overuse of natural resources, global warming…

You know what, nvm my irrational fear of the velocipede, a little anxiety when crossing the street is well worth it if it’s going to contribute to saving the one and only planet the entire human race has to call home. So moral of the story is, face your fears kids! Who knows, you may save the world in the process…k not really, but being environmentally conscious is that epically important, so please take it as seriously as you should. We can’t count on Leo and Al Gore to do all the work for us kids. If we all did a little, like turning off the tap and lights once in a while, recycling and composting, even if it takes an extra second, and yes even riding your bike, we’d being making a world of difference. Really didn’t think this blog post would turn into an environmental op-ed piece, but it did, so tadaaaaa. Amsterdam, I love you. Thank you for doing your part, and creating a culturally beautiful landscape while doing it…

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Comme Des Garçons tee, Zara overalls, Chanel bag, and Nicholas Kirkwood flats.

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.

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