Jockeys Don't Always Appreciate 'Fashion.'

"I skipped a double-cheeseburger for this crap!"
[image: ajuell]

Couldn't help but notice our jockey's somewhat sardonic expression here.  He was probably thinking how nice his name would look on that trophy.  Seems the horse didn't agree with that early assessment though.  Of course, horses don't really express disappointment quite like their human counterparts.  In fact, they really don't give a shit one way or the other.  Dinner shows up just the same.

However, race tracks sometimes get a little carried away on the winners.  See, they put the trophy right next to the scales as a way of rubbing it in on the also-rans.  Even the ninth-place jockey has to walk up there and see his reflection in that shiny little monument of pagan idolatry that's destined for the mantel over somebody else's fireplace.  And you might notice that the other half of this abysmal experiment is nowhere to be seen.  He's off looking for his waiter.

But the real subject of this post is the jockey's outfit.  Silks as they are known.  This could also have something to do with the expression he's wearing.  Around our farm, the mistress of the estate was put in charge -- no, took charge is more accurate -- of this department.  And we all know how much women enjoy dressing up men.  Hell, they even picked out our very first diapers for us and have micro-managed our bad taste ever since.  So it should be no surprise that far too many jockeys end up looking like a Salvador Dali misprint.  And if you're looking for a conspiracy -- yes.  Who do you suppose is running the sewing machines?  Yeah, Mrs. Dali.

And up in the Turf Club, the conversation among owners always follows the race...

The Mr:  "Yeah, we got to that son of Bold Ruler pretty cheap.  You notice he's got that same high croup."

The Mrs:  "The polka-dots are a rayon/silk blend.  Amazing stuff.  Doesn't fade at all!"

The Other Mrs:  "You don't think the sequins are a bit...say gauche?"

The Other Mr:  "Some of those Bold Ruler's come up a little short goin' a distance."

The Mrs:  "Look through the glasses.  See them sparkle!  Always know where the horse is running."

The Other Mrs:  "Oh dear, not well I'm afraid.  I think the one with the lovely mauve sash and matching...filigreed thingy...it's going to win I think.  Lovely color combination, don't you agree?"

The Mr:  "Damn!  Well, think I'll drop him back to a flat mile next out.  See what the trainer thinks."

The Other Mrs:  "Think I'll try the sequins.  Red, white and blue maybe.  The Fourth is coming up and how perfect would that be!"