Text by Elizabeth Clair Flood

A Buffalo Bill Wild West Show Cowgirl. Vintage Photograph courtesy of William Manns

What's right for the arena may not be chic for the soiree. Do clothes make the cowgirl or do savvy cowgirls make the clothes?

Because I've lived in Wyoming for eight years, I dress Western. I have Wranglers and Ropers, silk scarves and big hats, colorfully stitched boots, gingham blouses, and fringed cowboy shirts with pearl buttons. You won't find nylons in my drawers, and my fancy perfumes have all turned to alcohol.

I enjoy dressing Western, but the style isn't always easy to pull off. Most of the time outfits, even my own, look contrived or comical. As my friend Mary Schmitt warns, you don't want to stick out in a crowd as someone who is "all hat and no cattle." I'm sure I have plenty of times.

Recently, I fretted about what to pack for my trip to Fort Worth, Texas. I was invited to a sit-down luncheon for 720 people to induct six new cowgirls to the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame. I was honored to be selected to participate in the capital campaign for the museum, which will open in Fort Worth in the year 2000, but as usual, I felt I didn't have anything to wear.

Both my neighbor and my boyfriend told me to accessorize. So, I packed a stylish studded gunbelt made by Wild Bill, my old heart scarf slide, and Romero boots with yellow butterflies, along with jeans, a suede skirt, an old fringe jacket, and several Gap T-shirts. At the last minute I threw in a Cattle Kate scarf to wear with my silver heart.

As expected, everyone I met that weekend was decked to the nines. Half the people wore Vaqueras shirts made in Fort Worth by Susie Green. Others imitated the old-time cowgirl Fern Sawyer and wore bright felt hats, brilliant silk tops, and shockingly colored boots. Others wore slinky silver pants tucked into boots, velvet minis, sequined shirts, and broom skirts with Navajo belts. The inductees looked especially wild 'n Western in their tall bright boots with the Hall's logo, a cowgirl on a bucking horse and the CHF brand, a present from Justin Boots.

Vintage Photograph courtesy of William Manns

Other women just opted for the everyday Texas accessories: giant diamond rings and fake boobs. Next to these gals I, in my brown skirt, black sweater, brown belt and boots, was feeling drab.

But as I listened to the six presentations featuring the new inductees, I stopped thinking about my outfit. These women were truly remarkable. They settled the frontier, broke wild mustangs, ranched hard country, sailed into the rodeo arena riding bucking broncs and sliding under the belly of a galloping horse. As Connie Reeves, the 96-year-old cowgirl inductee said, all of them "saddled their own horse."

Looking over at the table of former inductees such as Linda Davis, Ruby Gobble, Gretchen Sammis, and Dixie Mosley, I thought that no one tells these women what to do. I doubt anyone's ever asked them to leave an establishment. They do what they please and with such style, even in jeans and a ranch shirt.

Running out the door to catch a cab home, dying to get back to my cabin and put on something easy like my Carhartts, I was stopped by a very chic Texan lady who said, "I just love your outfit. You look like a real old-time cowgirl." I was thrilled with the compliment, but I wish I could have told her I had a horse and that swinging under his belly at a full gallop didnŐt scare me a bit.

Since I don't have the nerve, I'll have to settle for the look. According to Vogue and the London Times, Western is the new trend on the runways. Western is in again, but the clothes aren't what one would wear on a ranch. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to wear the Valentino fringed waistcoats or Givenchy's outrageous pink leather fringed miniskirt that sparkles with rhinestones, but finding the right occasion would be as difficult as finding Gucci shoes in Montana.

Boy, it's tough being a cowgirl these days.

Copyright ©1998 Cowboys & Indians

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