15/05/2025
"Seek out an independent saddle fitter whose only loyalty is to your horseās well-being, not a sales quota. You deserve transparency. You deserve honesty. Your horse deserves comfort, freedom, and a fighting chance to thrive: not just survive under eight thousand dollars of leather and lies. "
Thereās been a lot of talk lately about saddle fit in the upper levels, especially the connection between back atrophy and high-end ācustomā saddles that arenāt doing what they claim to do. I wanted to offer my perspective as someone whoās seen the inside of the machine. For a time, I worked as a brand rep saddle fitter for one of the major French companies, the kind that markets itself as ādifferent,ā āelite,ā and āhorse-first.ā
It was, hands down, the most disorganized, chaotic, and ethically slippery company Iāve ever been a part of. Orders were managed on paper forms and Dropbox folders, shuffled between departments with zero accountability. Saddles regularly arrived built incorrectly. When that happened, which was often, it wasnāt seen as a crisis, it was just another day at the office. Clients would wait up to six months only to receive a saddle that didnāt match the order and didnāt fit the horse.
The training I received as a rep? Laughably minimal. We were taught how to check wither clearance, determine tree shape, and ābalanceā a saddle using foam inserts in the panels. No real education on biomechanics. No instruction on how saddle pressure affects movement or chronic pain. No understanding of equine spinal anatomy. And certainly no discussion of long-term horse welfare. When I mentioned learning more from independent fitters, I was told not to. Literally warned by my boss that āthose people have an agenda against French brands.ā She even insinuated that a certain independent fitter was the reason the last rep quit.
Management also regularly groaned about clients who wanted to have an independent fitter out at the same time as a brand fitter, labeling them as "high maintenance." It was as though questioning the company's methods was a personal affront, rather than a legitimate desire from owners for the best care for their horses.
From the beginning, I felt caught in a system that rewarded sales over ethics, obedience over insight, and pressure over compassion. I was encouraged to focus not on the horseās well-being, but on how quickly I could convert a clientās concern into a credit card swipe. Even our elite sponsored riders, some of the most accomplished athletes in the sport, couldnāt get saddles that fit correctly. Saddles arrived wrong. Panels were lopsided. Horses were sore. We all knew the saddle could be wrong, and it often was, but the unspoken rule was to get something close enough and push it through. If they canāt be bothered to properly fit the horses that carry their name into international arenas, what makes you think they care about Pookie, your 2'6ā hunter at the local shows?
We were explicitly instructed that if a client had a saddle more than a few years old, even if it was still working perfectly, we were to find something wrong with it. The goal was to sow just enough doubt to get the client to trade in the saddle and order a new custom. Not because their horse needed it, but because their wallet could support it.
Thatās when it started to really wear on me. I couldnāt sleep. I would lie awake at night feeling sick: not just because we were misleading clients, but because we were hurting horses. Every day I watched animals be dismissed as āhard to fitā when the reality was that the saddle being sold to them should never have been placed on their back to begin with. The moment that broke me came at the end of winter circuit. We hadnāt met our quotas yet. The pressure was sky-high. One of the top reps began pushing saddles onto horses that visibly, obviously, did not fit. It didnāt matter that this would harm the horse over time, it mattered that the sale was made.
Perhaps the most disturbing part is the panel design we used by default, a soft, rounded latex insert, was built not to support muscle growth, but to fill the void left behind by muscle loss. Our whole system was based around accommodating atrophy, not fixing it. We had specialized modifications to make the panels more forgiving to wasted backs, as if the problem wasnāt the saddle, it was the horseās inability to conform to it. Back atrophy wasnāt treated as a red flag. It was normalized. Built into the product line.
After six months, I started to unravel. I didnāt recognize myself anymore. I had entered the role wanting to help horses, and moved across the country to do so. I had left a steady job that I was happy in thinking this would be a way to combine my skills and my passion. I found myself trapped in a toxic cycle of moral compromise. Eventually, I couldnāt fake it anymore, especially since I had begun my equine bodywork certifications. I told my boss I was done. I remember saying, half-joking, half-begging for her to understand, that āIām not making enough money to cry every night.ā āThatās just part of the job,ā she responded.
That was a year ago. Since then, two more reps have cycled through my old territory.
So if your high-end ācustomā saddle doesnāt fitā¦ if your āfitterā keeps blaming your pads or your horseās shapeā¦ if your horseās back is getting worse instead of better: you are not crazy, and youāre not alone. Youāve been caught in a system that was never built to prioritize your horseās health in the first place.
This isnāt just a string of bad luck. Itās systemic. Itās built into the model. These brands donāt invest in education. They invest in optics. They train salespeople, not fitters. And they sell you the idea of customization while relying on generic templates and pressure tactics behind the scenes.
Iām not saying every brand rep is malicious. Some are kind, well-meaning, and genuinely doing their best within a rigged game. But when you pay someone a tiny base salary and dangle their entire livelihood on commissions, it creates a perfect storm of pressure and desperation. Good intentions donāt last long when survival depends on making the sale. Thatās why I left. Thatās why I speak up. Thatās why Iāll keep urging riders to work with independent fitters: people who donāt make a commission off the brand, who arenāt beholden to a sales quota, who care more about your horseās comfort than the label on the flap.
Thatās why I walked away. I couldnāt keep selling saddles that were hurting horses and gaslighting riders into believing it was fine. I couldnāt sleep knowing I was complicit in their pain. So if something in your gut has been telling you this isnāt right, listen. Trust it. Ask questions. Get a second opinion. Seek out an independent saddle fitter whose only loyalty is to your horseās well-being, not a sales quota. You deserve transparency. You deserve honesty. Your horse deserves comfort, freedom, and a fighting chance to thrive: not just survive under eight thousand dollars of leather and lies. Donāt let the system convince you this is normal. Itās not, and the more of us who speak up, the harder it becomes for them to keep pretending it is.
