When I was in high school (mid-70s) the “look” I most coveted was the preppie look. Polo shirts, khakis, docksiders, a cardigan tied around my shoulders. I could never pull it off. I’m no longer sure what the reason was. Mother still dictating my wardrobe selection? Feeling like a phony cuz I WASN’T one of “those (rich) kids”? Those items were too expensive, not in my size, not sold at my mall? I don’t really remember, but probably a combination of all of the above.

But I’ve always found myself drawn to that classic, sporty look. Being “horsey,” it was so much a part of the “real” horse people’s wardrobes. I so wanted to be a REAL horse person! While I’d been begging for years, I didn’t start taking riding lessons til I was 11. One lesson a week at a crappy hack (trail ride/rentals) barn. It was across the street from the town dump, a stinky mountain of garbage, that in summer heat was practically unbearable. Horses were ancient and arthritic and ring sour, or young and green (untrained), doing anything they could to get their riders off. Even at that young age, I knew this was not where the “real” horse people were.

Jump ahead eight-ish years following years of on-again, off-again weekly lessons, moving to better and better stables, a couple riding summer camps, but still no horse of my own. A friend had a horse so I had a barn to hang out at after school and on the weekends, but…riding someone else’s horse for 15 minutes was just not the same things as having a horse of your own. That was my sole mission in life. I wanted to spend my life working with horses, riding horses, having horses.

After high school I want to an all-girl’s college in Virginia where I majored in Horsemanship. Virginia is quite possibly the birthplace of the preppy look. I was surrounded by it. But I still didn’t feel like I fit in. They were all richy-rich girls with their own horses and cars and perfect hair. I came home after just one year and got a job mucking stalls and leading trail rides at the barn where my friend had her horse. At the same time, I enrolled at a local school of horsemanship to get my teaching (riding) certificate.

At work I soon fell in love with one horse in particular, Elmer J Fudd (he has a mansion and a yacht). He was a big boy with droopy helicopter ears. He was one of those that was fed up with non-riders bouncing on his back and tugging at his mouth…and he started bucking people off. One good kick was all it took to dump an inexperienced rider on the ground. I started using him to lead trail rides as he was becoming a liability on the hack line. And he was a dream to ride. The most comfortable gaits, bombproof, sensitive to the aids. My boss asked if I wanted to buy him, otherwise he was going to the killers. So we set up a payment plan and eight months later he was mine. He was the perfect first horse. A real confidence builder.

By that point I had gotten my teaching certificate and was teaching lessons at the barn as well as barn and trail work. I had one young horse-crazy student who I took on as a half-boarder with Elmer, meaning her parents paid half the monthly board costs and she could come ride him two days a week and use him for horse shows on the weekends with me.

It was on our way home from one of these shows that I, following behind the horse trailer, ran a red light and got in an accident. My car was totaled. I was taken to the hospital – I just had a small gash on my head, but. Someone called my parents to tell them I was at the hospital, and in questioning how the accident had come about, it was revealed that I was following MY HORSE home after the show.

MY horse.

Oh. Have I not mentioned I failed to tell my parents I had bought a horse?? For 15 years I had been told I could not have a horse because it was too expensive and we could not afford it. So, as soon as I could, I did it myself. I WAS however, still living at home, not paying rent, they had bought me my car, paid my insurance, etc. SO. I was in a fair bit of trouble. My father was PISSED. Now they were going to have to get me ANOTHER car, our insurance was going to go up, etc. I GET IT.

BUT. OH WELL. I had a horse. Ha.

ANYWAY. None of that has anything to do with my outfit today 🙂 Just that in my mind there’s a strong correlation between horses and the preppie look…and that story just came to mind.

I recently took scissors to the bottoms of these old Gloria Vanderbilt jeans I haven’t worn in years because they were too small. I figured it wouldn’t be that big a loss if I botched the shortening as I haven’t been wearing them anyway. They’re a little wide-legged – not in a modern “wide-legged” pant way, but…I still like them. I’ve always loved this color – I call it stone. Sort of a grey-hued off-white. First I put on my grey Catherine Malandrino crewneck sweater but it was a little short for a light-colored pant (if you don’t understand that, you’ve never had a droopy belly!). So then I put my white Loft blouse underneath it and LOVE. I love the crisp white of the blouse against the charcoal grey of the sweater, and the length coming out from under the sweater gives coverage where I wanted. The taupe loafers are just grey enough to complete the “greyish” outfit. And I liked the one contrast point of the warm cognac bag against the rest of the cool-toned outfit.

I also love the white blouse alone with these jeans, but that’s for milder weather.

The time my friend and I rode our horses to my house from the barn 12 miles away…down the parkway, across the highway, through neighborhoods and schoolyards. Kept them in the garage overnight with broom handles propped up on garbage cans to keep them away from my father’s Mercedes – my parents were away that weekend. I got in trouble for THAT one, too!

What I’m Wearing

The End