The pony club

Once, not so long ago, I had a digital battle with Josselin about the phenomenon of the pony. I was team against. Just read here if you want to know why a pony is not a good plan. And also not so long ago, I guess about six months, I was on life support when Leco suggested giving me a pony. Never. A pony and I, not a good match. I thought it was cute, mind you. But no pony parade on my forehead.

Until Paris. Until that stunning photo of Lilian. Suddenly, I was weak in the knees. Maybe a couple of strands. That would do a lot for my big, shiny forehead. Suddenly, I was in a hurry. Leco was traveling so I was, with permission by the way, flirting with another hair friend Bert Visser. And Bert waved his magic wand, thought Caroline de Maigret and saw that it was good. My pony and I. First, I had to get used to it and I swept it into a lock. Until I was scolded via text by Bert.

Just like how suddenly everyone in the editorial office was blonde and now everyone is brunette (thankfully our Elke is still not converted and we cherish her blonde locks), it now seems like everyone is getting a pony. What did my eye see this weekend? Noor de Groot. With a pony. Monica Geuze. With a pony. What I saw in Paris with Lil, everyone is now seeing. The pony is the new Bobby from Isabel Marant. The pony is the new Dior tribal earring, the pony is the new hard rock T-shirt. If you can still pony, then pony along. Now Gigi too and then all together at pony camp, I would say.