Four times in my photographic career I have really noticed a pony tail.
The first occasion was in my early thirties when, spending some time in Fiji, I saw village children whooping around, playing with a real horses tail. The horse had died as a result of a poorly applied tether strangling it. I think that at the time I had just bought my first camera and wasn't up to even trying to photograph it.
On the second occasion an acquaintance who lived across the road in Ponsonby cut her long black pony tail off and laid it on some newspaper. I took some photos have negatives of the event somewhere deep in my files. I never did anything with the photo though. I felt at the time that it didn't quite make it. I was probably right but I can't be quite sure until I revisit it.
Some years later a hairdressr saved the pony tail of a client and then rang me. Again I felt that I didn't quite make it.
Here, ten years later, I am back photographing the same subject. I'm pondering the result.