Confess.
Without saying a word.
It’s the guilty pleasure you wear in plain sight. Sunbaked satire built to bypass the sanitized small talk. Shirts that stand out without begging for attention. Guilty Kick makes faded, deadpan graphics that introduce you without social friction, so the right weirdos can find you.
- 100% Daily Value of Non-conformity
- Rich in Natural Plant Fiber
- Low Sodium
- Glueten-Free by Default
- Non-Drowsy Formula
Side Effects May Include: Mild squinting from strangers, spontaneous knowing nods from fellow cynics, and chronic aversion to polyester blends.
HISTORICAL HALLOWEEN TEES (AND TECHNICALLY FACTUAL)
Due to an administrative clerical error involving an undated bill of lading and a cargo freighter that technically sank in 1894, Guilty Kick has taken custody of forty crates of assorted historical textiles. Legal counsel advised us that listing them as "Historical Halloween Tees (and Technically Factual)" is the fastest way to achieve inventory liquidity before the maritime court issues a summons.
We cannot verify the original consignees (several invoices are signed only with an oily wax seal or the name "Vladimir"), nor can we explain why the packaging material consisted entirely of damp graveyard turf and shredded 19th-century tabloids. Every shirt has been laundered twice, cleared of active curses by Gary, and priced to move before the full moon. Wear at your own legal discretion.
Unpacked: brand new vintage sunbaked tees
In the dead of summer, Gary took an emergency three-week sabbatical to Florida to visit the parrot who had recently retired. Naturally, he took the company pickup. Unnaturally, he left a massive shipment of brand-new, premium tees completely exposed in the truck bed. For twenty-one days, those shirts baked under a brutal, unrelenting tropical sun.
What now? Throw them out? Absolutely not. Gary just grabbed a sharpie, slapped "VINTAGE" on the box, and marked up the price.
25% off - Going out of style fall sale!
Hand Picked from the Archive: Gary found these t-shirts under the stairs in the basement in a cardboard box marked "REJECTS 1973." So we're selling them at a discount. Because rejects in 1973 could be gold now.
GUILTY KICK CONFESSIONS
Let’s face it: society demands that we pretend to be thriving, well-adjusted adults who memorize 20-character passwords, cook artisanal three-course dinners on weeknights, pronounce foreign charcuterie boards with effortless French flair, and maintain lush indoor jungles while crushing early-morning video calls in fully tailored attire.
We say: enough.
The Guilty Kick Confessions collection is our minimalist, high-contrast tribute to the unspoken realities we all share but refuse to admit out loud.
Keep it quiet. Keep it comfortable. Wear your confessions.
What's your kick?
Submit your own guilty kick, and if we use it on a shirt, you get the shirt for free.
Introducing
Other Confessions
Some confessions don’t use words. Some use a banana in a trench coat or put a whole apple in an appletini. Vintage mistakes that we exploit and make fun of now.
We have fresh produce in existential crisis. Horribly unsafe vintage inventions. Current complaints about your domestic pet partners. Minimalist movie parodies with shapes: you get it immediately or… probably never. If you get it, confess and join an exclusive club where the perk is: you’re not alone.
There’s something for everyone. Also, something for no one. We’re comfortable with that. It’s who we are.
Who are you?
New Arrivals
Fresh from the Warehouse: Our logistics department finally found these under a pile of 1984 tax returns. Get them before they disappear again. And don't worry, we stopped using formaldehyde and phthalates in the 1970s,
Introducing
The guilty kick way
Most brands have a "vision." We have a 400-page legal transcript involving a stolen 1970s printing press and a parrot named The Auditor. We don't design shirts because we want to; we do it because the court order was very specific about our community service requirements. It’s a long story involving high-level bureaucracy, a lot of vintage ink, and of course, Gary. It's got his dereliction of duty all over it.
