Come for the feed, leave with a whole new wardrobe and questionable life choices…read more
I thought I knew what Tractor Supply was. Pretty sure the first time I heard the name, it came rolling out of George Strait's mouth like a gospel truth. Maybe it was a commercial. Maybe it was a dream. Either way, I figured this was a place where you picked up tractor bits, livestock feed, and a straw hat with dignity. What I didn't expect was that I'd one day be strutting through this store like it was my own personal runway.
Let me back up. Once upon a time, I was just my husband's plus-one on a "quick errand" that dropped me into a Tractor Supply in another town. I wandered off (as one does) and ended up hypnotized by Christmas ornaments and squeaky dog toys shaped like chickens. I left empty-handed but spiritually altered.
Fast forward to life in Small Town, USA, where the local Tractor Supply is basically Target for the rural elite. I've become a regular. Their pet section is massive. No, I don't own a horse, but if I did--her name would be Nellie and she'd have a full fall wardrobe and matching saddle bags, thank you very much. For now, I spoil my dog, Princess Bailey, who has a taste for high-end chew toys and spa-level grooming. We haven't used the in-store dog wash yet, but I've scoped it out and it looks like the Four Seasons of self-serve bath time. Should the need arise, I'll be there in a heartbeat, scrubbing her with lavender-scented shampoo while questioning my life choices.
Now let's talk fashion, because THIS is where Tractor Supply really messed around and won my heart. Ladies--if you've been sleeping on their clothing section, wake up and get yourself to aisle cute. On a recent trip (post-spray tan, because health), my husband--clearly in an ice-cream-induced state of romantic delusion--picked out a black Columbia dress for me. I tried it on. I looked good. Like, country music video good. Suddenly he's handing me a Columbia skort, a white top, a sundress... and I'm walking out with a new wardrobe and the confidence of a woman who could absolutely ride a horse if necessary (I can't--but that's not the point).
We didn't leave with a tractor. We don't need a tractor. We have gravel. But we did leave with a bag full of clothes, a chew toy shaped like a duck, and a renewed sense of purpose.
So yeah--five stars. Tractor Supply, I don't know what kind of black magic you're working behind those hay bales and garden hoses, but keep it coming. George Strait would be proud.