There’s a spot near the Atlantic coast of Florida where the beaches give way to grassy pastures. Each winter thousands of competitors come here to chart their horses over jumps, guide them in the ballet of dressage, or pit them against champion polo teams.
Welcome to Wellington, home of the largest equestrian competition in the world. I’ve seen the exhilaration firsthand: For the past four winters my daughter and I have moved to Wellington for 12 weeks, and she trains more or less nonstop.
There are multimillion-dollar McMansions lining the show rings and polo fields, but I rent what I call our witness protection condo a few miles away. Across the street there’s a cop parked in his cruiser, and next door there’s a retired school principal named Roger, who sits in a folding beach chair in his driveway. As I slam my car door, a 12-hour day behind me (six days a week), grime between my fingers and toes, Roger passes me a frosty Corona from a cooler. He has no idea that in New York, where I’m a writer, at sunset I’m usually fluffing up my Fekkai blowout, securing my Sydney Garber earrings, and click-clacking to the Mark for a dirty martini.
The Palm Beach International Equestrian Center, which sprawls over 500 acres, has in its glamorous orbit private country clubs, restaurants (from gourmet to taco truck), and art galleries brimming with horse moms sporting Golden Goose sneakers and Céline totes. An active social circuit is anchored by the Sunset Polo & White Party, and the high-powered frenzy is led by developer Mark Bellissimo, who deserves credit for making a traditionally elite sport more inclusive by offering affordable stabling options so that all riders can compete side by side. When all is said and done, no matter where you come from, the bond between rider and horse is both invisible and infinite. Most riders practice the sport throughout their lives — pursuing that rare sense of peace found in perfect synchronicity with another being.
Adapted from Wellington: The World of Horses, out this spring from Assouline.
