Unlike other sports, equestrians typically have a particular fondness for, and obsession with, their equipment. This is so deep-rooted and is due to so many reasons, but I like to believe that it all ties back to the memories. If you’re anything like me, you have a somewhat “unhealthy” attachment to your horse stuff. Others may not understand it, but that’s ok!

The need to take very good care of our tack originated long ago. Since horses were an essential part of everyday life for transportation and other needs, and since their equipment was mainly leather, it was crucial to maintain it appropriately. This was and still is also for safety reasons of course! While the role of the horse has obviously changed significantly (as has the tack too), the basis of this fundamental pillar in standard horsemanship has not. Rarely will you see a lesson barn or camp where tack cleaning and care is not taught profusely, and if you have a Pony Club background, you are a top-notch expert in this area.

While also very therapeutic and satisfying, one cannot easily forget the pleasant aroma of saddle soap or the gentle froth of that round little tack sponge. I’ve always found it so fascinating to think about the adventures that tack has been on and the places it’s seen. I love the bridles hanging in school barns with mismatched parts and offset holes punched up and down the weathered leather.

Imagine all the horses they’ve been on over the years and all the kids that have gripped those reins tightly as they learned to ride. They’ve been rained on and stepped on and had too little and too much conditioner used. They’ve been hung up backwards but also lovingly figure-eighted.

Every time I look at the subtle tooth marks on the cheekpieces of one of my old bridles, I can’t help but think about my late mare who always playfully tried to grab at the bridle as I was putting it on. That bridle was a Christmas present from my dad one year after he saw me ogling it at the tack store. It will forever have my girl’s nameplate proudly on its crown.

It’s hard not to think about the sentimentality attached to our gear. I have my very first pair of old, pull-on tall boots, and to be honest, I’m not sure they’re actually real leather. I remember the excitement of being told “it’s time” by my instructor to invest in some “real” tall boots. Begrudgingly, my parents took me on a trip to the local tack store to pick out a pair. For many, this is almost a rite of passage. Those boots can be seen in old pics of Pony Club rallies all the way through IHSA shows in college. They are a faded brown on the inside despite many attempts to re-dye them, and their creases and loose stitching are a reflection of every memory made while wearing them. They saw mud, snow, sun, tears, falls, and blue ribbons.

My tack trunk was made by my dad from the leftover cabinets from my grandparent’s kitchen. It’s moved about a hundred times with me and it’s traveled in the back of a pickup truck across the country, been used as a coffee table, and had a few makeovers. On the underside of the lid in childish magic marker handwriting are the scribbled show names of my first horses. It’s been sat on by groups of horse crazy kids and had bottles of hoof polish and fly spray spilled inside, and it’s probably my most valuable piece of furniture.

I love buying secondhand used tack and I wonder what it would say if it could talk. Where has it been? What has it seen? Some of its story is told in how well it’s been cared for. Are there little bits of mold in the cracks and crevices or has someone carefully taken a toothbrush to get that out? Are there nicks in the saddle’s cantle or has it carefully been set down? What adventures has it been on during a lifetime? I like to picture a few best horse friends going on a little shopping spree together and sharing in the excitement of the acquisition together. After all, it always goes back to the wonderful memories shared amongst us and our horses.