Strolling on Toronto´s Yonge Street, in August, 2008, I had the most amazing long-hair encounter of my life.

A young woman with a honey-blonde, knee-length ponytail came my way and soon disappeared in the crowd.

Absolutely everything about her was absolutely magical: the grace with which she walked and with which her ponytail swayed and danced behind her, her tasteful light summer dress in perfect contrast AND in perfect harmony with the colour of her hair, her perfect body, her incredibly beautiful face.

I turned around awe-struck on the sidewalk, gazing after her, and to my embarrassment or amusement a total stranger passing me said: "Yeah, beautiful hair, eh?", before he, too, vanished in the crowd.

That wasn´t the longest hair I had ever seen in real life. But it was the most consummate beauty I had ever encountered. If I had somehow miraculously gotten the chance to talk to her, I probably wouldn´t have been able to uttter a single word that would have made any sense. I literally was left speechless.