The exception was at the barn. I rode horses competitively through college, and relished in the haven of the stable. I loved the formality of competition clothing: a uniform of stiff, high-waist breeches; dandyish shirts with detachable monogrammed collars; tall black boots; and handsome wool jackets in a host of patterns that looked to have come straight from Savile Row. I also adored my schooling chaps, which I was allowed to design myself. Rendered in supple chocolate leather, they were trimmed in tan snakeskin and garnished with a long fringe that would shimmy as I cantered over jumps. Surrounded by other oddballs and eternally understanding horses, and garbed in my equine attire, I could be my weird, young, innocent self, free of ridicule and the peer pressure to conform.
I hadn’t thought about Katie in years. But last month, as I spiraled into a nostalgia-fueled midlife crisis ahead of my 40th birthday, she returned. My two selves—Katie and Katharine K.—met atop a little Arabian horse while cantering through the gardens of France’s Versailles Palace.
Courtesy of Katharine K. Zarrella
I’d like to stress: I am not a “horse girl,” a moniker for one of the cheesiest, most inauthentic trends in recent memory. On Instagram, myriad accounts have urged me to embrace something called Horse Girl Fall. I’d sooner go full Lady Godiva. The term “horse girl” is centaurian at best, infantilizing at worst. I abhor it. As for the fashion, no actual horse-riding human would be caught dead in the scratchy, synthetic, old-money-core-meets-athliesure garments being pushed by viral brands. I assure you, ill-fitting checkered breeches with a slippery faux-suede seat are not conducive to staying mounted—or escaping saddle sores, for that matter.
Likely inspired by the aforementioned midlife crisis, I’ve recently returned to riding. I quickly found that equestrian style has become almost unrecognizable over the last 18 years. On my first day back in the saddle, in an attempt to prove I was a “real” horse person (and not a “horse girl”), I bragged to my new trainer about my robust former riding wardrobe. He told me I could “burn it all.” (Ouch.) Today’s riding wares, he told me, come in breathable, high-performance technical fabrics that are better suited to movement than their rigid predecessors. I did no such thing, but I did enjoy delving into the new world of riding clothes. Mostly. I’m completely confused by the crystal-studded breeches and helmets, and the lacy show shirts befitting figure skaters or Vegas brides, which have become perplexingly popular. But thanks to my new equestrian friend, Florent, I discovered the French brand Dada, whose high-waist breeches and elegant collared shirts are a modern, less-sweat-inducing take on the traditionalism and clean, classic simplicity that Katie so loved.
#Horsing #Helped #Find #Style
