I can´t remember anyone in my family having even shoulder-length hair, let alone longer hair, strikingly beautiful hair, or just a passive appreciation for other people´s long hair. My mother and my (much older) sister (who generally have always been my models of female beauty in almost any other way) were or are even strongly outspoken against long hair in general.

As there seems to have been nobody around to influence me in this respect, I guess my fetish must be a genetic coincidence and peculiarity - some remote feature from way back that had materialized only once perhaps, generations before my time, had been passed on silently along with everything else, only to surface again in me.

But I remember very well how I was turned on as a six-year-old by the new fashion of the mid-60s with women wearing their hair down longer and longer, mostly on the TV. For many years I had absolutely no words for the strange ways in which my whole body came alive at such sightings.

It became very clear, however, when in the fall of 1973 I saw Jane Seymour on the cover of a youth magazine.