Dispatches from Palomino County: Memorial Day Weekend in Aiken, South Carolina

Memorial Day weekend in Aiken, South Carolina reminded me exactly why certain places continue to hold such a powerful grip on the American sporting imagination. Some towns simply understand how to preserve tradition without making it feel performative, and Aiken, South Carolina does that better than almost anywhere I’ve ever been.

The forecast threatened rain for nearly the entire weekend, but somehow the weather gods cooperated just enough for us to enjoy two incredible polo matches in one of the country’s most iconic horse towns.

We checked into the iconic Willcox with our two dogs, Chai and Chesney, who were immediately treated less like pets and more like honored guests (I do think the bowtie collars helped).  If you’ve ever stayed at The Willcox, you understand that special kind of hospitality they’ve perfected over generations. There’s an ease to the place that feels increasingly rare today. Elegant without being stuffy. Historic without feeling frozen in time.

The dogs settled in quickly, stretching out across the room like they owned the hotel by the end of the first evening. Every member of the staff seemed to know their names within hours, and treats appeared so frequently that Chai and Chesney may now expect this level of service everywhere they go.

Saturday brought us to Whitney Field, home of the legendary Aiken Polo Club. There’s something deeply nostalgic about Whitney Field: towering pines surround the grounds, tailgates stretch across the sidelines, and generations of families gather together under tents and folding chairs to watch the matches unfold.

Much of that enduring spirit can be credited to people like Tiger Kneece, who has played such an important role in keeping Aiken’s polo tradition alive and thriving. You can feel the history there, but it never feels inaccessible. Instead it feels lived-in and welcoming.

That’s what I love most about polo culture in Aiken. It isn’t manufactured for optics. It’s simply part of daily life.

Later that afternoon, we made our way to New Bridge Polo & Country Club for another spectacular match and tournament finale. The energy there was electric despite the looming clouds overhead. Prior to the match, the National Anthem blared as a horsewoman ceremoniously circled the field at warp speed—her giant American flag billowing in the wind. Spectators lined the sidelines with cocktails in hand, dogs wandered between groups of friends, and every conversation seemed to circle back to horses, travel, sport, and shared experiences. At halftime, everyone headed onto the field to customarily “stomp the divots.” 

By the end of the afternoon, Team Amasé took home the tournament trophy after a hard-fought and incredibly entertaining match. Moments like that are why people fall in love with polo. The speed. The athleticism. The strategy. The beauty of it all unfolding against one of the most picturesque backdrops imaginable.

But what stayed with me most throughout the weekend wasn’t just the polo itself. It was the feeling surrounding it.

Aiken still values the kinds of things that matter deeply to me—and to Palomino County: craftsmanship, sportsmanship, stewardship, and relationship. In a culture increasingly obsessed with speed and convenience, places like Aiken remind us how meaningful it can be to slow down and fully experience where you are. Especially on a holiday weekend like Memorial Day…meant to be a time of reflection and, frankly, gratitude.

As we packed the car and headed out of town, muddy shoes in the backseat and two exhausted dogs asleep before we even hit the highway, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful for the weather holding off. Grateful for great sport and even better people. And grateful that towns like Aiken still exist exactly as they are. Because weekends like this aren’t just fun escapes; they are reminders of the kind of American culture and traditions worth preserving. 

Before we embarked on our six-hour journey back to Nashville, my husband and I looked at each other and agreed: it was a polo weekend for the record books.

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