Alden Customs

Work-life balance. ✨

It’s one of those wonderfully corporate phrases that can feel almost comical when applied to horse girls. But as someone who has spent nearly my entire professional life walking somewhere along the intersection of “work” and “horses,” it’s something that’s been on my mind this Labor Day.

Our feeds today will inevitably be filled with American flags, barbecues, long weekends spent with family, and one last unofficial goodbye to summer. But beneath all of that, Labor Day has a history worth remembering. It exists to celebrate the American worker and the labor movement that fought, often quite literally, for protections we now consider basic: reasonable working hours, safer conditions, breaks, weekends, and the idea that being a good worker shouldn’t require sacrificing your entire well-being to your work.

And then there are horse people. 😂

We don’t exactly have a stellar relationship with the concept of “off the clock.” Horses still need to be fed on Christmas morning. Stalls don’t muck themselves because it’s a federal holiday. Water troughs need filling whether it’s 72 degrees and breezy or 100 degrees with 100% humidity. And an eight-hour workday at a horse show? A legally mandated 30-minute lunch break? Please. Half of us suddenly realize at 4:30 p.m. that the Celsius and hospitality donut we had seven hours ago probably didn’t constitute adequate nutrition.

I’m certainly not exempt from this. In fact, I’m writing this during one of the busiest stretches of my own year as we barrel toward Oklahoma and U.S. Nationals. Peak season inevitably means answering emails on weekends (and apparently holidays... cough cough), working into the wee hours of the morning, and occasionally skipping breakfast because if I don’t get to my alteration partners before Nashville rush-hour traffic hits, I may simply live on I-65 forever.

But here’s the part I’ve been thinking about: just because our work sometimes requires us to push our boundaries doesn’t mean pushing them should become something we celebrate.

There’s a particular kind of grit deeply ingrained in horse culture. We pride ourselves on being the people who get up before dawn, work until the job is finished, ride through the heat, keep going when we’re tired, and figure it out because the horses are counting on us. There is something admirable in that. Horses teach responsibility in a way very few things can.

But somewhere along the way, I think we’ve occasionally confused being hardworking with being endlessly available, and resilience with neglecting ourselves.

Because the reality is that we don’t become better horsewomen, professionals, business owners, trainers, grooms, riders, parents, partners, or friends by perpetually running ourselves into the ground. When our brains are exhausted and our bodies aren’t nourished, we make more mistakes. When every relationship outside the barn or business gets pushed to the back burner, eventually something important suffers. And when we’ve been running on caffeine and four hours of sleep for three days straight, sometimes we forget to turn off the hose filling the water trough...
..which reminds me.

*runs outside to turn off the spigot*

The irony, of course, is that so many of us work this hard precisely because we love it. We love these horses. We love this sport. We love our clients, our barns, our businesses, and the strange little world we’ve built our lives around. But taking care of ourselves isn’t in opposition to that devotion. It’s part of what allows us to keep showing up well for all of it.

So as we celebrate the American worker today, and remember the labor movement that fought to establish protections for workers who were once expected simply to endure more and ask for less, maybe there’s a small lesson in there for those of us working in an industry that still asks an awful lot of the people who love it.

We may not be able to guarantee ourselves an eight-hour barn day or a perfectly uninterrupted lunch break, but we can create our own versions of those protections through boundaries, rest, nourishment, care, and a little more respect for ourselves. We can work incredibly hard and still recognize when we need to stop. We can be devoted to our horses without abandoning the people we love. We can chase ambitious goals without making exhaustion a badge of honor.

Being a hard worker does not require abandoning yourself in service of the work.

Both can be true.

Consider this your Labor Day reminder, horse girl. Take care of the person who takes care of everything else. 🤍

🎶 It’s the moooost wonderful time of the year… 🎶

No, not Christmas. NATIONALS SEASON.✨

It’s a beautiful kind of chaos as the final orders are pressed, photographed, packed up, and headed out the door for the Morgan Grand National & World Championship and Arabian U.S. Nationals.

This is always the point in the season where it starts to feel real. The fabrics we obsessed over. The swatches held up in twelve different kinds of lighting. The piping colors we debated. The measurements, fittings, monograms, buttons, linings, late-night texts, last-minute growth spurts, discipline changes, and all the tiny details that went into making each outfit feel uniquely like the rider wearing it.

And then suddenly… they’re done. 🥹

There is something so incredibly special about packing up a garment we’ve spent weeks bringing to life and knowing the next time we see it, it’ll be walking through the gate at one of the biggest horse shows of the year.

To every Alden Customs rider headed to OKC and Tulsa this fall, I hope you feel like an absolute million bucks when you put your outfit on. I hope you trot down that ramp feeling confident, polished, and completely yourself. And most importantly, I hope you take a second to soak it all in. Getting to the big dance is an accomplishment all its own.

We’ll be cheering ridiculously loudly from Tennessee. ❤️

Now, back to the sewing machines, garment bags, shipping labels, and our regularly scheduled pre-Nationals chaos.

It really is the most wonderful time of the year.✨

*UPDATE: Well holy smokes, my mistake went FAST! ✨ Between comments and DM's I have managed to sell all of my error bags. Thank you all, you're THE best! Thanks for laughing along with me during my flub.*

I flubbed up. 😂🤦‍♀️

In a truly impressive display of “measure twice, order once,” I managed to order hundreds of garment bags in the wrong size. Instead of cocktail length, I ordered gown length. Whoops.

The corrected shipment is on its way, and I desperately need these out of my workspace, so my loss is your gain!

I’m selling them at a loss for $1 per bag + shipping just to get them gone and reclaim the space.

They’re actually a great size for horse show clothes and will comfortably fit a day coat and jods without having to drape the jods over the hanger, so they’re perfect for packing everything away together for the off season.

If you want to stock up for your barn, show closet, clients, or the inevitable collection of outfits we all swear we don’t have too many of, now’s your chance. 😂

$1 each + shipping. Grab as many as you want while I have them, which, unfortunately for me, is A LOT. 😅

🚨 ATTN: ALL MY PROCRASTINATORS, GROWTH SPURTS, DISCIPLINE CHANGES & WEIGHT-LOSS KINGS AND QUEENS 🚨

Consider this your friendly “please don’t make me panic-sew” reminder. 😂✂️

The clock is officially ticking on custom apparel for the fall championships! If a new outfit has been living on your to-do list, here are the dates you need to know:

🐴 Morgan Grand National & World Championship
Order by August 29, 2026 to stay within our standard production timeline and avoid rush fees.

🌹 Arabian U.S. Nationals
Order by September 10, 2026 to stay within our standard production timeline and avoid rush fees.

After these dates, we’ll still do our very best to accommodate those inevitable “SURPRISE, nothing fits!” moments, last-minute horse changes, new divisions, unexpected growth spurts, and the outfit idea you’ve been thinking about for six months but suddenly decided you *need immediately*. 😂 However, orders will be accepted based on production availability and rush fees will apply.

If you’ve been on the fence, now is the time to slide into my inbox! Even if you don’t have every detail figured out yet, reach out and we can start pulling together ideas, fabrics, and a game plan.

Because your horse show prep is stressful enough. Your outfit does not need to be one of them. 💁‍♀️✨

Some things are worth the wait. Storytime.

Kyle Sewing and I met sometime around 2013. If I'm being honest, she intimidated me a little. In my mind, Kyle was the cool girl in the show ring. We were close in age, but not often close in the placings. She was a frequent flyer in the winner's circle while I was an AOTS rider with a junior horse and big dreams.

She was already a decorated equitation medal rider with one of the top open hunter Morgan horses in the country.

But here's the thing about Kyle: she has never made anyone feel like they don't belong.

She's the first person to offer you a piece of her show wardrobe if you forgot something. She's the loudest one in the stands, whooping and hollering for everyone else's victory pass. She celebrates her friends' wins just as enthusiastically as her own. And somewhere between horse shows and late-night barn conversations, we became two horse-crazy girls who just clicked.

A few years later, as Kyle was preparing to leave for Army basic training. I remember sitting around a huge restaurant table surrounded by her closest friends and family as everyone wished her well for her send off. It became immediately obvious where she learned that remarkable ability to make people feel seen. Her warmth, generosity, and effortless way of building community wasn't something she developed later in life. It was who she'd always been.

Then life happened.

For the better part of a decade, our paths diverged. Kyle chased her dreams serving in the Army, while I chased mine in the equestrian industry, built my career, and eventually found my way to Nashville. We weren't part of each other's everyday lives anymore, but there was always that invisible string that seems to exist between horse girls. Every few years we'd check in about horses, about work, about life. We were both in that season of young adulthood where you're trying to build a career, keep the lights on, and somehow still make room for the horses that have always owned a piece of your heart.

Then last summer, both of our worlds stopped.

Our heart horses found themselves in hospitals within weeks of one another. It's a kind of pain I wouldn't wish on anyone. Kyle ultimately lost her soul horse, the very horse I'd admired all those years ago. The horse that, when they entered the ring together, looked less like horse and rider and more like one being moving in perfect harmony. My heart broke right alongside hers.

Ironically, it was heartbreak that brought our friendship back into focus after so many years.

So when Kyle reached out earlier this spring about creating an outfit for her return to the show ring with her young Saddlebred mare, I can't adequately describe what an honor that felt like. This wasn't just another custom order. It felt like watching someone rise from the ashes. Quietly. Courageously. One step at a time. She was placing her trust in me to help her feel her most authentic and most confident after years away.

Designing for friends is always a little different because I don't filter myself nearly as much.

This was actually the client I mentioned earlier this season when I first debuted this outfit. I remember looking at one particular fabric and telling her, "I fear if we don't choose this, it'll be a huge missed opportunity."

Kyle trusted me completely.

The outfit we created together has genuinely become one of my favorite pieces I've ever designed.

And seeing her step back into the show ring this past week...

Pure magic.

The outfit was everything I'd hoped it would be, but it almost became secondary. Watching Kyle smile again, watching her confidence return, watching her trot through that gate after everything she'd worked for - that was the real masterpiece.

The blue ribbon and victory pass?

Those were simply the cherry on top.

Her smile says everything.

I'm incredibly proud of the woman she's become, but even more grateful to call her a friend. She somehow balances a demanding professional career with the relentless pursuit of her passions. She leads with kindness. She builds community everywhere she goes. She reminds everyone around her that this sport has never really been about ribbons or titles.

It's always been about the people.

Sometimes, the best stories don't come from the horses we win with.

Sometimes they come from the friendships that quietly survive time, distance, heartbreak, and life's inevitable detours, only to find their way back to exactly where they belong.

Cuteness OVERLOAD! 🤯 The future is bright for this tiny rockstar!

Every show wardrobe deserves one “wow” piece. This velvet is surely that.

Why Are the Clothes Being Judged?

Part 2: Branding & Telling the Right Story

In Part 1, I talked about why turnout matters and why I don't believe judges are simply "judging the clothes.”

One of the most common responses I saw to the TikTok discussion was some variation of, "Just let people wear what they want."

I think that's an understandable sentiment, but it overlooks something much bigger.

The conversation isn't really about whether people should be free to wear what they like. Of course they should. The question is whether what they're choosing supports the story they're trying to tell. Those two ideas aren't mutually exclusive. You can absolutely express your personality, wear colors you love, and create something that feels uniquely yours while still making thoughtful, strategic decisions that reinforce the image you're presenting in the show ring.

That's ultimately what branding is.

Before Alden Customs became my full-time career, I spent several years working in digital marketing and brand strategy. Every branding project began with a discovery process. We certainly discussed practical things like products, services, logos, colors, and imagery, but those conversations came later. First, I wanted to understand the identity behind the business.

I would ask questions like: If your brand were a person, how would you describe its personality? Is it modern or traditional? Bold or understated? Luxury or approachable? Who are your competitors, and what makes you different? What emotions do you want people to feel when they interact with your business? What words would you never want someone to use to describe your brand?

Only after answering those questions would we begin designing the visual identity.

That process may sound far removed from custom equestrian apparel, but in reality, it's almost identical.

When I'm designing a custom coat, I certainly want to know what colors my client likes. But I also want to know what discipline they compete in, what classes they show, whether their trainer prefers conservative or fashion-forward turnout, what color their horse is, what colors flatter the rider, and what impression they're hoping to create when they trot through the ingate.

The difference is that, unlike a traditional branding project, much of our framework has already been established for us.

Our breed association gives us a foundation. The discipline narrows that foundation. The individual class specifications narrow it even further. Our trainer often has stylistic preferences, and our horse's strengths, weaknesses, and even personality begin shaping the story before we've selected a single button or piece of fabric.

By the time we're choosing materials, we're not creating a brand from scratch.

We're refining one that already exists.

This is where I think many competitors misunderstand the rulebook.

If we use the USEF Morgan rulebook as an example, the general attire rules for Hunter Pleasure are remarkably broad. Riders are expected to wear appropriate hunter attire, with recommendations for both informal and formal dress, but there is very little language dictating specific colors, patterns, or fabrics.

It's easy to read that and conclude, "As long as I'm wearing a hunt coat, I can design whatever I want."

Technically, that's true.

But I don't believe that's where the conversation ends.

The rulebook tells us what is permitted.

The class specifications begin to tell us what is rewarded.

Those are two very different things.

Even within the Hunter Pleasure division, there are subtle distinctions worth considering. The distinction between informal daytime attire and formal evening attire has become increasingly blurred over the past decade as traditional shadbellies have become less common and fashion fabrics have become more popular. That evolution raises interesting questions. Does a particular silk brocade read as daytime attire, or does it feel more appropriate for an evening championship? Does the sheen of the fabric create a more formal impression? Is this the equestrian equivalent of cocktail attire, or does it read more like black tie? None of these questions are answered explicitly in the rulebook, but I believe they're important considerations when we're thinking about the overall picture.

Now let's narrow our focus even further.

The Ladies Hunter Pleasure class asks judges to reward manners, suitability, quality, cadence, balance, presence, and the apparent ability to provide a pleasant ride. When I read those specifications as a designer, I'm not simply reading a class specification at the top of a judges placing card.

I'm reading a creative brief.

What story is this class asking competitors to tell?

Let's imagine my client's horse is beautiful and possesses ideal breed type, but he's still a little green. Perhaps he becomes strong in the extended gaits or loses a bit of relaxation at the walk. Those characteristics are already pushing against the ideal image of the finished Ladies horse.

Do I really want to reinforce that impression with a high-sheen Barbie-pink silk brocade featuring a bold, oversized pattern that immediately commands attention?

Personally, I wouldn't.

Not because there's anything inherently wrong with that fabric, but because every design decision should support the strengths of the partnership rather than unintentionally drawing attention to its weaknesses.

That doesn't mean the rider has to abandon her personal style. We can still create something distinctly feminine and beautiful. Perhaps that means a soft mauve plaid, a refined cranberry herringbone, or another classic suiting that allows exceptional tailoring to become the focal point. If we're designing for an evening championship, perhaps we introduce a richer silk in a traditional hunting color or a vibrant jewel tone with a more restrained finish. The goal isn't to eliminate personality. It's to channel it in a way that supports the class rather than competing with it.

Now compare that with an Open Hunter Pleasure horse.

The class specifications still value manners and quality, but "presence" and "performance" become much more prominent. These horses are expected to command attention. They're the headline performers of the division.

That changes the branding conversation.

If the horse naturally possesses charisma and the partnership can carry a stronger visual statement, then perhaps a richer brocade, a bolder color palette, or a more fashion-forward design becomes entirely appropriate. The same design that might feel distracting in one class could feel perfectly at home in another because the story being rewarded has changed.

Neither design philosophy is objectively better.

They're simply answering different design briefs.

That's how I approach custom clothing.

I'm never asking, "What's the prettiest fabric?"

I'm asking, "What story are we trying to tell, and does every design decision reinforce that story?"

To me, that's the difference between simply decorating a garment and designing one with intention.

Next week, in the final installment of this series, I want to take this conversation one step further. We'll explore why these details matter by looking at both marketing psychology and sports psychology—how first impressions are formed, how visual cues influence perception, and why thoughtful presentation can affect both the way others perceive us and the way we perform ourselves.

Because once you understand the psychology behind branding, and where that intersects with sports psychology the conversation about turnout becomes even more fascinating.

Why are the clothes being judged? (Part 1)

I've seen this comment hundreds of times over the last week:

"You'd think they'd judge horsemanship instead of the clothes."

I'll be honest, I'm always a little taken aback by it. Not because I don't understand the feeling behind it, but because I think it's reacting to something that isn't actually being said.

The recent HorseTok discussion about judges commenting on attire sparked a lot of debate, but to me the bigger question isn't whether clothes matter.
It's why they matter.

Let's first address the elephant in the room.

Equestrian sports have become increasingly expensive. Across every discipline, it's easy to feel "less than" when you see a horse, a trailer, or yes... a custom coat that's simply outside your budget.

I understand that feeling because I lived it.

From my very first horse show through my early years showing my own horse, I owned exactly one hunt coat. It was a hand-me-down from another rider that I wore for both equitation and pleasure. It wasn't expensive, but it fit beautifully because it had been tailored. I paired it with a monogrammed shirt, polished boots, and an antique brooch.

I learned early that putting your best foot forward isn't about spending the most money.

It's about making the most of what you have.

Where I struggle is when people draw the line at clothing.

No one questions turnout when a horse walks into the ring with muddy tack, loose braids, unpolished hooves, or shavings still caught in its tail. We instinctively understand those details matter—not because they're expensive, but because they demonstrate preparation, attention to detail, and professionalism.

And really, we do this in almost every competitive environment.

Military uniforms are expected to be immaculate. Not because a polished boot makes someone a better soldier, but because presentation reflects discipline, preparedness, and pride in one's craft. There's a reason "attention to detail" is drilled into military culture.

The same is true in the workplace. We prepare for interviews, polish our shoes, steam our jackets, and choose clothing appropriate for the role we're pursuing. We understand that while our appearance doesn't determine our ability, it does communicate professionalism and respect for the opportunity.

The show ring is no different.

Our turnout serves the very same purpose.

A properly fitted sleeve allows a judge to better evaluate equitation. A clean silhouette keeps the focus on horse and rider. A well-designed coat moves with the rider instead of distracting from them.

The goal has never been more expensive.

The goal has always been more intentional.

As a clothier, my responsibility isn't to sell the most expensive garment. It's to help every rider, regardless of budget, put together the strongest turnout they can. Sometimes that's a custom coat. Sometimes it's alterations. Sometimes it's consignment. Sometimes it's simply explaining why one choice serves the overall picture better than another.

To me, those conversations aren't about classism.

They're about integrity.

Because as, equitation extraordinaire Helen Crabtree once said, “It is better to have one suit than a variety of ill-fitting outfits.”

The strongest competitors aren't always the ones who spent the most.

They're often the ones who paid the closest attention to every detail—from head to hoof.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where I want to talk about something we don't discuss nearly enough in the horse world: branding. Because whether we realize it or not, every turnout tells a story before we ever trot through the ingate. 🤍

🌸💕💗💖💞💓💘💝🌷

“Pink isn’t just a color, it’s an attitude!” — Miley Cyrus