Jane Cleland's Josies Prescott Antiques Mysteries

What Kind of Horse Are You?

I'm not a clothes horse. I select outfits for comfort, not style. In other words, I'm a comfort horse.

When I was twelve, my father told me that he would gladly pay for any and all beauty treatments. He liked his women well-kempt. My mother was more of a comfort-first sort of gal, so this was his way of suggesting that I try a different approach. From that unspoken—and to be fair, perhaps, unintended—message, I learned an important lesson—comfort horses aren't as valued by men as beauty horses.

Be that as it may, and not to belabor a metaphor, but it didn't take me long to learn that for me at least, it's impossible to change horses midstream. A comfort horse I was, and a comfort horse I am. Sorry, Dad.

One of my nephews tells me he's a restaurant horse. If he has extra cash, he spends it on fine dining. A writer friend of my acquaintance always looks like a million bucks—she's a classic clothes horse. Another friend has been lasered and botoxed and nipped; she's obviously a beauty horse. A guy I know is a water rat—he sails, dives, snorkels, lives on the coast, kayaks for relaxation, you get my drift—obviously, he's a water horse. So... what kind of horse are you?

It's important to know. It says everything about you. It's the public statement about your values and interests and aspirations. If you get extra money, how would you spend it? And how do you feel about that? Are you pleased with the horse you are? Or do you wish you were a different horse?

My dad died long ago, when I was a teenager, but you know what? I think he'd like me just fine, even though I'm not his stated first choice in horses. I think he spoke a big game about admiring well-groomed gals, but in his heart, he liked comfort-horse gals the best. High-maintenance, nah. Relaxed and friendly, hootie mama! That's me! A comfort-horse girl who cooks comfort food and has comfortable chairs and strives to have the people in her life feel welcome and valued, and yes, comfortable.

I have no way of knowing if I'm right, of course... but I certainly hope so. I loved my dad a lot, and I hope that how I am would please him.

I welcome your comments.

Ms. Cleland, I wouldn't have taken you for a comfort horse back when you were teaching at MBCC. You used to wear the nicest dresses with funky matching high-heeled pumps (I particularly admired pair that I think were red & white). I used to wonder how you stood up to lecture in them, but they were so cool. Your ensembles seemed to go with your interesting, dynamic teaching personality. So, although you may be a comfort horse at heart, I'm sure it is with great style! Denise M. Floyd

I am definitely NOT a clothes horse (jeans and a "T"), water horse (scared of the ocean even tho I live nearby), nor am I a beauty horse (needles and the thought of a scalpel terrify me!). The question of what I buy when I have a little extra dough has got to be old stuff. I'm an old stuff horse. I will get up at the crack of dawn, drive till my last drop of ga$ is gone, and stand in line at an estate sale till my feet go numb for a chance at a new/old treasure. The dustier, the mustier, the older the better. This hobby/job has taken me all over the world and then some, whisked away my savings, had me sleep in the back of a van in the cold, sweat and swelter in the sun, and slog in mud in the rain at the huge outdoor markets. Flee from mice and spiders in long-neglected attics and damp basements, and sleuth out even the smallest of garage/estate/yard sales. Has it been worth it these 24 years? Apparently. I am still at it, perhaps a bit wiser and more discriminating, but still as thrilled at even the tiniest "find" for my eclectic and beloved collections of dolls, toys, holiday items, Indian jewelry and beadwork, and sterling travel charms. I wouldn't change a thing. Because everywhere I look in my little home, there is a treasure with a story behind it. Someday I'll join you and write about my own experiences,,, till then, please, keep writing, Jane!