Pornstar hair is for *after* work

Pornstar hair.

It's big, it's full of product, and it has the ability to make even the most deadline-focused man cancel all his PM meetings to follow the temptress to whom the locks belong to the nearest four walls with a floor-to-ceiling mirror for a late-afternoon-into-early-evening session of intense, intimate...um, discussion.

Even if most of us can't verbally discern among the manes of Tawny Kitaen in Whitesnake's "Here we go again" video, a New Jersey housewife dolled up to make a Costco run and Tera Patrick on all fours doing...well, doing what Tera Patrick does, we all know pornstar hair when we see it.

And up until this morning, it was not the kind of head-topper I'd ever expected to see in DC. Not in the ConnAve/M Street area on a Monday, anyway.

But there, standing two heads ahead of me right in front of Burberry around 10:45 this morning was the porniest porn star hair I've ever seen in person. Not only did its volume and combustible level of product surpass Jenna Jameson's in each of her six Jenna loves _____ and _____ loves Jenna films, but the number of perfectly distributed tendrils, wisps, and ringlets, too, indicated this woman, despite her modest navy pinstripe pantsuit, square-toed Cole Haans and coffee-colored leather briefcase, was likely on her way to a speakeasy filmset somewhere up in the ritziest (i.e. most sexually depraved) corner of residential Georgetown.

Don't get me wrong, this woman's thick, jet-black hair was beyond gorgeous. It was the enviable kind that could just as easily hold a curl or go stick-straight simply by looking at a set of hot-rollers or a CHI. It was the kind that no matter what she did with it, even in its most tamed ponytail state, would distract men of all ages and persuasions in all business settings into wondering what that hair would feel like to give a playfully erotic little tug. In light of this fact, the very last thing this woman should be doing in professional settings is tease - pun intended - that hair to the razor's edge between Texas beauty queen and X-rated sweetheart.

Like an amazing pair of post-marathon legs gingerlillied to the hilt with Molton Brown's finest glimmer oil, a sensual pillow lip swathed in Chanel red and a just-born-lucky 34-24-34 in mesh Cosabella boyshorts, sex kitten hair is gift - a tool - with which certain women are fortunate enough to have tucked away in their come-hither arsenals. But like said legs, lips and a made-for-lovin' figure, there is a time and a place to overtly put on display such feminine wiles as pornstar hair.

And as much as I, in terms of workplace dress-code, like to "slice the salami" as my graduate advisor used to say in reference to Taiwan's Chen Shuibian slow-but-steady diplomatic severance from the Mainland, I have to call a spade a spade and draw a line in the sand at a downtown DC bank employee walking around with clear-as-day f**k-me hair.