Chicken, Butter, Carrots, and the Birth of Capall

Chicken, Butter, Carrots, and the Birth of Capall

“Chicken, butter, carrots. That’s it. In and out. Like a professional,” I told myself, psyching up for what should have been the quickest grocery run in history. But this wasn’t just any grocery store—it was the Shongweni Woolworths, nestled in the bustling equestrian suburban farm town where everyone either owns a horse, knows someone who owns a horse, or is a horse.

Now, Shongweni is no stranger to the “horsewoman aesthetic,” but what this local Woolworths was about to witness would test even the most hardened country folk. After 12 horses, 30-degree South African sun, and my "no-one-will-see-me" gear, I was… well, let’s just say no fashion magazine was calling for a feature. “Please, please, please don’t let anyone I know see me,” I whispered to myself, dousing myself in deodorant as if it could undo the carnage of the day. Who was I kidding? But the horses needed carrots, so I grabbed the biggest bag I could find, sprinted toward the meat aisle, and made my way to the butter section—almost in the clear.

And that’s when I saw him.

Thomas Meyers.

The handsome, talented, open rider. Playboy. And my hopeless equestrian crush. Of course, he’d appear now, standing there in all his breeches-and-button-down glory, glowing like some equestrian demigod who’s never known the struggle of sweat-soaked polos and hay in uncomfortable places.

“Daena!” he called out, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement. “Just finished riding at the Minetts’ place, I see?” His eyes travelled down my tragic ensemble: sunburnt face, sweat-streaked shirt covered in horse slobber, water, and something I’m choosing to believe was just mash.

I considered leg-yielding straight into the bread display, but there was no escape. “Yes,” I managed to squeak, desperately clutching my oversized bag of carrots like they were a life raft. “Just… uh… grabbing some carrots for the show tomorrow.”

“Are you riding this weekend?” he asked casually, his breeches somehow looking crisper than the carrots in my bag.

“Yes,” I stammered, suddenly very aware of every unwashed strand of hair clinging to my forehead. “We have a horse in the same class.” (Because obviously, I memorised the riding order and strategically planned our warm-up arena ‘rendezvous,’ but no need to mention that.)

“Brilliant! I’ll see you there, then,” he said with a charming grin. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” I replied, trying to sound breezy as I melted faster than the butter in my basket. My equestrian husband dreams slipped further away with each step he took. I bolted to the till, sprinted to my car, and sat there in stunned silence. “Next time,” I thought, “I’ll be better prepared.

And that, dear reader, is where the idea for Capall was born. Because no rider should have to choose between functionality and style—or risk running into their crush looking like a sunburnt hay bale. Capall is here to save you from moments like these, one effortlessly chic, sweat-proof piece at a time.

What Is Capall?

Capall is for the riders who appreciate the subtle luxury of a well-tailored jacket, the crisp perfection of a structured collar, and the quiet confidence of timeless, elegant equestrian style. Our pieces are designed to move seamlessly between the stable and the world beyond—combining function, form, and the effortless polish of equestrian chic.

Because Style Shouldn’t End at the Arena Gate

Riders understand the power of presence. Whether you're in the saddle, walking a course, or simply making an unplanned social appearance in the dairy aisle, looking put-together isn’t just about vanity—it’s about feeling like you belong. Capall exists to ensure that whether you’re in the ring or running errands, your style speaks for you.

So consider this your invitation to elevate your equestrian wardrobe. Because a well-dressed rider is always ready for whatever—or whomever—the day brings.