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  • Writer's picturejshannon727

Retail Therapy

Recently I purchased a nearly new Devoucoux Biarritz Saddle. The entire purchase experience was delightful. The Devoucoux representative, Manon, was both knowledgeable and exceedingly pleasant. She may be one of the best imports from France in a couple of years.

“Voila!” Manon cried out when she came back two weeks later to make sure everything was going well with the saddle. “You look perfect.”

Not only did I ride better with the Biarritz, but it felt as though I had gained a stroke of Parisian flair, just by getting to know Manon. The cost of the saddle was hefty, but it’s hard to put a price on an excellent ride and the feeling you get when your confidence blossoms.

When my sister, Cindy, came from Toronto to visit, I took her straight out to my truck to show her the Biarritz. “Isn’t it a beauty,” I cooed.

“How long have you had those jeans?” she asked.

I slipped the signature green Devoucoux cover over the saddle and patted it in place.

“Oh, I don’t remember,” I replied wiping some dust from the tailgate onto my thighs.

“No one wears skinny jeans anymore,” Cindy smiled.

My Parisian flair was fading fast.

“Sure, they do,” I countered. But in truth I wasn’t sure.

“When was the last time you went shopping?” Cindy was examining my t-shirt.

“Um.” I looked down for the answer. What I saw were rings of dirt under my fingernails from my earlier visit to the barn.

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” she grinned.

“Wait, I remember,” I cried out. “Last week, I bought two gorgeous saddle pads.”

Cindy frowned. But I cared not. A Euro-sized unit of my je ne sais quoi had returned.


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