On my rare day off from dancing at the Latin Quarter in New York City, I looked forward to one thing – riding a horse through Central Park. I reserved one at The Claremont and arrived brimming with anticipation.
That excitement quickly faded when the staff informed me (quite firmly) that I would not be allowed to ride without wearing a complete English riding outfit. They handed me a business card for a nearby shop for the proper attire. Off I went, determined not to let a dress code stand between me and a horse.
Within an hour, with the help of a very enthusiastic sales associate, I was outfitted from head to toe: black leather boots, skinny pants with padded sides, a cream-colored jacket, a blue blouse tied neatly with a bow, leather gloves, a proper riding hat and even a crop. It was expensive but would have its reward.
Dressed in my new attire, I felt like I had stepped into a movie scene. I proudly mounted the horse and set off along the wide gravel path, enclosed with dense foliage. The trail felt secluded and magical as if the city had momentarily vanished.
A few weeks later, I unexpectedly had an opportunity to audition for the lead dancer role in a Las Vegas show. Never having been out west, I accepted the new position without hesitation.
A few months into my new life there, friends Invited me to join them to go horseback riding at Bonnie Springs. I yelled, “I would love to go!”
Thrilled at the chance, I put on my now-beloved New York riding outfit, confident I could rent a horse.
When my friends arrived, they broke into uncontrollable laughter. “Marlene,” they said, “They are not going to rent you a horse, dressed like that!”
I stood there stunned, as they climbed out of the truck. Each were wearing jeans, western shirts, and boots. In that moment, I realized just how different back East is from out West.
I enjoyed the laughter and changed my clothes.
