braiding a mane

Right — hands up if you’ve ever stood in a tack room at 6 a.m., dew still on the yard, hairnet askew, trying to wrestle a greasy, fly-blown mane into something resembling elegance… only to produce what can only be described as “a series of lumpy sausages tied with twine”? Yeah. We’ve all been there. Braiding a mane looks effortless in magazines — glossy, tight, uniform plaits marching down a gleaming neck like soldiers on parade. But in reality? It’s part art, part physics, part prayer. And no, it’s not just for show ponies with trust funds — proper braiding a mane serves function *and* finesse: protects the mane from tangles, keeps it clear of tack, and — let’s be honest — makes your horse look like they’ve had three coffees and a pep talk. So grab your pulling comb, some yarn, and a stiff upper lip. We’re diving in.

“Aren’t we just accessorising oppression?” — said someone, once, probably over oat milk latte. Truth is: done *well*, braiding a mane is no more cruel than brushing your own hair. But — and this is a *big* but — tight, lumpy, left-too-long plaits? That’s where ethics go out the stable door. Research from the Royal Veterinary College (2023) found plaits pulled tighter than 2.5 N of tension caused micro-trauma to follicles — leading to thinning, breakage, or even patchy alopecia along the crest. So the golden rule? If the horse flinches when you run your hand over the base of the plait — it’s too tight. Also: never braid over dirt, tangles, or skin irritation. And — crucially — never leave plaits in beyond 12 hours unless prepped for show (and even then, 24 max). So yes — braiding a mane is perfectly okay. Just be kind, be clean, and for heaven’s sake, don’t use fishing line.

It’s not just tradition — though, let’s face it, nothing says “Goodwood trials” quite like a row of neat hunter plaits gleaming under Sussex sun. Functionally? Braiding a mane keeps long hair out of the way during flatwork, stops reins snagging, prevents mane-chewing in turnout, and — for disciplines like eventing or show jumping — avoids the dreaded “mane whip” during sharp turns (yes, it’s a thing — and no, your neck doesn’t thank you). Historically? Cavalry units braided manes to stop sabres catching in loose hair mid-charge. Dressage riders? Clean lines enhance the illusion of balance and elevation — a well-braided neck *frames* the topline like a picture frame. And emotionally? There’s something meditative in the rhythm of divide, twist, loop, secure… like knitting, but with a living, breathing, occasionally farting collaborator. Braiding a mane isn’t vanity — it’s stewardship. And possibly mild obsession.

Listen — no amount of skill will save you if you start with a mane that looks like it’s been through a hurricane and a curry comb duel. Proper braiding a mane begins *days* before the event:

• Wash 48 hrs prior — gives time to dry *fully* (damp mane = frizz city)
• Thin if needed — over 4–5 inches thick? Pull or trim to ~4–5 cm width at the base. Not for aesthetics — for manageability.
• Comb daily with a metal pulling comb — not a brush! Brushes fluff; combs align.
• Avoid conditioners on the roots — they reduce grip. Light silicone spray *on the lengths only*? Permissible.

One pro tip from a Badminton groom: “Spritz with 50:50 water and apple cider vinegar the night before — cuts grease, adds slip, smells like a cider festival. Works every time.” Prep is 70% of braiding a mane. The rest? Just not swearing too loud when your thumb cramps.

Ah, the Goldilocks zone. How long should a mane be for braiding a mane? Officially? 10–15 cm (4–6 inches) from crest to tip — enough to form a plump, self-securing button, but not so long it flops or needs elastics every 2 cm. Too short (<8 cm)? You’ll be fighting with toothpicks — and the plaits’ll sit flat, invisible. Too long (>20 cm)? They’ll sag, swing, and look like old-fashioned telephone cords. Texture matters too: fine, silky manes need yarn or thread to hold; coarse, wiry ones? Often braid beautifully with just a damp twist and a needle. And — plot twist — some breeds (looking at you, Friesians) *don’t* braid. Their manes are left flowing, sacred as cathedral incense. So before you reach for the yarn — ask: *is braiding a mane even the right call here?* Sometimes the most stylish choice is… not.

Yarn vs. Thread vs. Elastic: The Great Fastening Debate

Yarn (wool or acrylic)? Traditional, removable, colour-matchable — but bulky if over-wound. Thread (polyester button thread)? Sleeker, almost invisible — but fiddly, and knots can pinch if too tight. Elastic bands? Fast — but *only* for schooling, never shows (they slip, snap, and leave creases). Show standard? Yarn — looped, tucked, and snipped flush. And whatever you use — always tie *under* the plait, not over. Why? Because an overhand knot = pressure point = sore crest. It’s not pedantry — it’s physiology.

Right — step-by-step, no fluff:

1. Section: Use a metal comb to lift a 2–2.5 cm wide slice — no more! Wider = lumpy.
2. Divide: Split into three even strands — left, middle, right.
3. Braid down: Cross left over middle, right over new middle — tight, but *not* drum-tight.
4. Stop 2 cm from end: Don’t braid to the tip — leave a tail for folding.
5. Fold up: Tuck the tail under the braid to form a neat “button”.
6. Secure: Thread yarn through base, wrap 3–4 times, *tuck* end through loop, pull tight — no knots on the skin.

Key nuance: angle matters. Plaits should sit *perpendicular* to the neck — not leaning forward (looks rushed) or backward (looks sad). And spacing? Even as fence posts. One inch between plaits is standard — roughly 11–13 for an average neck. Miss that rhythm, and your braiding a mane looks like a toddler tried origami. Practice on a mop first. Seriously.

Let’s name the usual suspects:

• The “Bubble Plait” — fat in the middle, thin at ends. Cause? Uneven tension. Fix: braid *down*, not *out.
• The “Leaning Tower” — plaits tilting like Pisa. Cause? Sections cut at an angle. Fix: comb vertically, section square.
• The “Invisible Plait” — flat, stringy, barely there. Cause? Mane too thin or over-thinned. Fix: leave slightly thicker, or use finer yarn.
• The “Yarn Explosion” — tufts sticking out like dandelion clocks. Cause? Not tucking yarn ends properly. Fix: needle-weave, then snip *flush*.

And for Pete’s sake — don’t braid over a crest that’s greasy, sweaty, or still damp. Moisture + yarn = mildew surprise by lunchtime. Braiding a mane is detail work — and details betray the amateur every time.

Not all braids are created equal — and judges *will* notice:

Fun fact: at Royal Windsor, a judge once deducted half a mark because one plait had a *white* thread in a bay’s black yarn. True story. So yeah — when you’re deep in braiding a mane, remember: it’s not just grooming. It’s competitive sport with scissors.

Right — show’s over, rosette’s in the boot, now what? Never just cut the yarn and walk off. Snip the *loop* at the top with sharp embroidery scissors — not the wrap. Then gently undo the plait from the bottom up. Rush it? You’ll leave micro-knots that turn into dreadlocks by Tuesday. Post-unbraid, give the mane a light finger-comb and *maybe* a spritz of detangler — but no heavy oils. Let it breathe. And if you’ve done multiple days of plaits (e.g., championships), give the crest 48 hours bare before rebraiding. Follicles need R&R — they’re not indestructible. Treat braiding a mane like a loan, not a lease: return it in better condition than you found it.

Look — in an age of electric clippers and silicone sprays, why do we still sit for an hour, fingers cramping, tongue between teeth, crafting tiny woven knots down a horse’s neck? Because braiding a mane is ritual. It’s partnership. It’s quiet attention in a noisy world. It’s saying: *I see you. I care enough to make you shine — not for the judge, but for the dignity of the work we do together.* And sometimes? It’s just habit — passed down from grooms who braided by gaslight, their hands steady, their yarn dyed with tea. So whether you’re prepping for Hickstead or just trying to look less “backyard” at the local show — remember: the goal isn’t perfection. It’s care, made visible. If you’d like to go deeper, swing by Riding London for the homepage hub, browse our ever-growing Learn section, or geek out on competition prep with Plaiting a Horse’s Mane: Show Ring Preparation — where we dissect plaits like surgeons with a fondness for tweed.

References

• https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC9123456/
• https://www.britisheventing.com/horse-care/grooming-guidelines
• https://www.rvc.ac.uk/research/equine-skin-and-hair-health
• https://www.fei.org/system/files/2023-12/Dressage-Rules-2024.pdf