High Pony

Twice this week I’ve been stationed at a red light behind young women drivers with thick, long hair who required more time than one red light could give them in order to gather up all the hair atop their heads for a handsome ponytail . . .

Doing so, but not happy with the results, they would pull the band out of their hair in one damaging yank, start all over – gathering up, swooping, pushing it higher, tightening, smoothing the top of the head, the sides, cinching . . . the first time I viewed this, when I was in a hurry, I beeped the horn softly when the light had turned green – and she shot me a look in the rear view mirror that made me feel intrusive and overbearing and “way too old.” The second time, only a day or two later, and no one in back of me, I decided to let the pony show go . . .

The high pony is a hairstyle that has traversed generations. Little did those young women in their cars realize that I too, long ago, groomed one high pony – or two, if we’re talking pigtails, which are not so in fashion anymore. 

When I became a mother and lost my high pony, I began to style it for my daughters instead. They would come running down the stairs just as the school bus could be heard making its first stop in the neighborhood – “My pony! My high pony!” they would yell. Under pressure, I’d swoop a mane upward, gather it in one hand while cajoling it higher and smoother with the brush in another hand, upward, upward she goes – higher . . . higher – till approval was met and the band twisted on. That is the hard part – twisting – for there is always some slippage while putting on the band, and ridges seem to appear out of nowhere once the band is in place. Ridges on the top or sides of the head, or even underneath the pony itself, are sloppy and unacceptable.  I’ve been criticized for low ponies, loose ponies, ridged ponies, off-center ponies, and ponies that couldn't hold till lunchtime.

The perfect high pony is combed smooth and tight on all areas of the head, propped high and snug at the crown of the head – and forced at its base to hike up teasingly just like the tail of a Lipizzaner Stallion.  The length is left to cascade for as far as it can go. Better yet, it should curl at the end to make a hook.

There is importance in getting the pony to swish back and forth like a metronome while walking – maybe to hypnotize young men, I don’t know – for there is nothing duller than a straight held pony that won’t move. The first footsteps are crucial – the girl must tilt her body slightly but not noticeably, left to right, left to right – back and forth five or six times – to get the pony to work like a pendulum. After that, momentum takes hold and she can walk regular – the pony takes care of itself.

The girls on our local high school track team have mastered the skill of the swishing high pony – they run down our street after school in great herds – and all ponies, excepting one or two stragglers, are a-swishing in tandem.

Monday morning I looked at the newspaper to see the photos of all those movie stars who had won an Oscar or been voted “the best” at some spectacle of appearance. Reese Witherspoon was voted “Best Tressed,” and the caption beneath her profile read: “Her glamorous high ponytail stood out in a sea of up-dos, bouncy waves and bed heads.”   

Barbie photo credit: www.astrocrack.com/.../2009/02/barbie209.jpg