My favorite writers and bloggers are those who are transparent, genuine, and relatable — without desperately trying to be those things. I like people who can generally be self-deprecating and self-aware to a point where I’m like, “Yeah, you’re human, just like me. I appreciate you showing me that,” because most of the time, it’s a lot easier to hide behind a public, social media facade.

I think it exudes a certain amount of humility to lay it all out there, and humble is what I strive for, so I thought I’d offer up a few facts about yours truly today that aren’t common knowledge. This post might stem from the over-sharer in me — okay, fine, it definitely does (I once told a complete stranger in the line at Starbucks how I had just failed a Spanish test when he asked me how my day was… over-sharer problems) — but you know what? I want Freckles and Figs to be a place of raw honestly, so raw honesty is what you shall get.

(I know probably you didn’t sign up for any kind of raw anything by typing my website URL into your search browser, but stick with me and maybe you’ll like it around here? One can hope!)

Sometimes, I visit blogs or Instagram feeds where the pictures are freaking unbelievably stunning, and the writing is fluffy and light and just so fun! You know, just talking about how great the person’s week is and where they’re jetting off to next and how they ate macarons for dinner and are still the size of my pinky (#notbitter).

And, suddenly, I feel like crap. Is it just me? Why would looking at and reading about perfection make anyone feel badly? After all, it’s beautiful and curated and perfect.

That’s precisely my issue. I don’t want to see perfect. I mean, I don’t really want to see people falling apart and going mad all over social media and blogs, either (although, with the state of our country, I am seeing more and more of that regardless of what I want), but my preferences sway toward a happy balance. Show me the struggles it took you to get to X,Y, and Z; show me sometimes you have insecurities or bumps in your road; show me you’re a human being with interesting thoughts and experiences; show me you are as obsessed with ice cream as I am (please… anyone…).

I realize I’m pairing these requests with professional outfit photos on what one might technically define as a “LiFeStYlE bLoG.” But, look. My jean culottes here are wrinkled as a raisin. My hair hadn’t been washed in three days when I shot these pictures. These heels are probably two-plus years old. Clearly, I’m far from perfect, and I promise that I’ll never pretend I am anything I’m not. And one thing I’m not is one of those bloggers who appears to have it all together. I simply enjoy sharing my interpretation of fashion with my (sometimes over-the-top) opinions about life, creativity, pursuing goals, healthy living, and so on.

So anyway, here are a few little-known tidbits about little ol’ me to add some unfiltered realness to your Wednesday.

  1. I CANNOT go to the grocery store without a list. I won’t. The few, very few, times I have, I’ve nearly had a mental breakdown in the produce section trying to think of what I need for the next few breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and deciding whether or not I need zoodles or avocados for anything, and wondering if JFK really did get shot by Oswald or maybe the CIA theory is true? I need focus points or else my mind will spiral right there next to the cherry tomatoes, and inevitably, I’ll leave without the two things I actually, really needed to get.
  2. I have massive social anxiety. I bet you wouldn’t guess this based on my first (definitely not anal nor control freakish) fact up there…. I just really like hanging out with people one-on-one, mano-a-mano, just chattin’, gettin’ deep, sharin’ a bowl of queso, me and you. The idea of being in a large room with people I don’t know and walking up to any of them to introduce myself and fire up a conversation actually makes me nauseous, and I’m not a puker. Why is networking even a thing? JUST EMAIL ME, K?
  3. If I wasn’t named Audrey, my parents were going to name me Carly. And, no offense to the Carly’s out there, but let’s just say I’m happy with the decision my parents ultimately made. While we’re on the name topic, my middle name is JoAnne, after my paternal grandma’s middle name (all my siblings have family middle names), and somehow my mom came up with the glorious nickname of Jojo Banana Cakes years ago that she still calls me now. I’ve never even tried banana cake. Is that a thing? Anyway, I love it regardless. Also, I didn’t know how to spell JoAnne until I was in my late teens. Is there an E at the end? Is the A capitalized? Actually, I’m still not totally sure about the E on the end. Mom?
  4. I’m a wannabe rebel — who actually really likes rules. Unless they’re stupid rules, of course, and yes, I feel qualified to make that determination. Do I need to use my blinker if no one else is at the four-way stop? NO. Do people need to brush up on how a four-way stop works because 99 percent of drivers seem to have no freaking clue that you’re supposed to take turns going clockwise? YES. I always thought when I was younger that I was this spontaneous, free spirit, but holy cow, if something doesn’t go according to how my OCD brain thinks it should…woof. No bueno.


BLOUSE (similar) // CULOTTES (similar) // STILETTOS (similar) // BANGLE (similar) //LIPSTICK (in “Black Cherry”) // POLISH (in “Blanc”)

Photography by BRASS TACKS & co.

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