Moustaches: A Multipart Discourse
JILLIAN LOVEJOY LOWERY: Unless you’re over the age of 45, moustaches are probably not such a good idea. I get it, you’re trying to be ironic, right? Look hipster, it’s not working out. You just look like a jackass.
Believe me, I’m a fan of interesting facial hair on men. Hell, I’m friends with a dude who’s rocking the Ambrose Burnside look, and I dig it. He’s totally hot. But a sole moustache? Almost always a mistake. It needs to connect with something, otherwise, it’s unattractive.
First of all, moustaches on young men are just plain creepy. Moustaches make you look like sex offenders. Go ahead, go look on those neighborhood watchdog websites, where they show you photos of your local pervs – the vast majority are rocking a ‘stache.
Moustaches are either too small and prissy (think John Waters), or too fluffy and caterpillar-y (think Freddie Mercury). Apparently, it’s nearly impossible for people to grow a decent one. Perhaps, then, it would be well to admit defeat and shave it off – or fashion yourself a nice little goatee instead.
There is only one person that I know who has a truly fantastic moustache. And it’s a total 1970s pornstache. Somehow, it works with his vibe, and it’s just perfect. When he shaves it, I actually like him significantly less.
Not only does this moustache look good, it’s a conversation starter. How do you think I met this kid? I’d seen him out, and, once my liquid courage kicked in after several drinks, I called out to him from across the bar.
“Hey, Pornstache,” I yelled. “Come here and sit with us.” And he did. And we’ve been friends ever since.
Listen, though. That’s probably not going to happen with you. You should see all the moustaches I snub on a nightly basis. Your moustache is probably lousy. 99.9% of all moustaches are a mistake. Contrary to the lyric in the Sparks song Moustache, one hundred hairs do NOT make a man.
AKIE BERMISS: I agree with Jillian in principle: moustaches are not for everybody. I don’t necessarily think you have to be 45 years old to pull it off, but you should think about it before you just grow it out like you know what you’re doing.
I, personally, have a scraggily moustache. Its a really a shameful piece of work. But, I never trim it. I never shave it. I never comb it out or condition it. Its just my moustache. When I was 12, hair started to grow on my face. I was shocked. Scared even, I didn’t like it so much. But I didn’t know what to do about it. None of my siblings has very much facial hair. I was sort of the odd man out. So it took a while for me to figure out shaving. And then it took a while for me to figure out that shaving was a mistake. I shave my moustache and I look like a duck that’s been in a bar fight. It don’t work. I did it a few times in Junior High and then gave it up forever.
You see, for me, the moustache has always been bittersweet. I never really wanted one. I always wanted a nice, full, luxurious beard. I wanted inches upon inches of hair to grow on my chin. None ever really came in. I was one of those unfortunate types who can get plenty of hair to grow UNDER his chin — but nothing on it. For a while, in High School, I had no hair on my cheeks or chin and so just rocked a sort of sad chin-strap beard. It was really, truly a sad thing to behold. All I’d ever wanted was a soul-patch and goatee — but it wasn’t mean to be, friends.
So you know what I did? I gave it up! I relinquished my hopes of ever being that cool jazzer with the sexy goatee. Without it, I was forced to find new and innovative was of being hip. It was hard, believe me. I had to deal with some residual anger about it in college when it would get cold and my friends would just grow out a beard and be done with it. If I let mine grow out? Chin-strap.
Why am I telling you these things (these horrible, horrible things)? Because I want you to know that I always knew that if I could grow a beard, it’d be awesome. But I couldn’t. And that fact, as I grew to accept it, helped me to understand that some people SHOULDN’T rock a beard. Even if they can grow it out.
And so, in my early twenties I decided I’d better be sure about this moustache thing so that I wasn’t just making an ass of myself and thinking I was covering up the pummeled-duck look of my adolescence. And what did I discover? Hey — the moustache works! It really does.
So yeah — I can rock it. I’m not even 30 yet. But you can’t, friend. So stop. Is it ironic? Yes — very. But to a mature audience it draws on an irony that plumbs depths you are probably not ready to expose. (We’re not laughing with you, you know.) When you’re ready for the ‘stache — you’ll know it.
Don’t jump the gun, my friends. Stand clear.
TED BERG: Mine is the opposite problem of Akie’s: I cannot grow a moustache.
My beard grows quick and thick; usually within a few hours of shaving I have a Homer Simpson shadow. I could fashion an Abe Lincoln or a Cousin Mose in two weeks, easy. But no moustache.
This is the great irony of my biography.
Under my nose, I can grow but a few stringy hairs; probably nothing more than what Akie had at 12. And how desperately I’d like to grow that rich pornstache that impressed Jill that night! How I long to look like my favorite baseball players of yesteryear!
But alas.
Instead I am stuck with subtle stubble.
How would I wear a moustache? The best possible way: Unironically.
That’s what Jill was getting at before, I think. The difference between young men and old men rocking ‘staches is often the amount of inherent irony. That’s why, I assume, Akie can pull his off. Akie’s moustache is without pretense, it simple is.
I recently moved from Brooklyn to Westchester. There are a lot of men with moustaches in both areas, but the main difference is the amount of irony therein. Many Brooklyn moustaches are ironic. No Westchester moustache is ironic.
That’s why so many of those Brooklyn moustaches are lame or annoying and absolutely every one of the Westchester moustaches are hilarious and awesome.
If you can grow a good moustache, go ahead: I envy you. But please, don’t do it because you think it’s funny. Do it because you’re proud; proud of what you can grow, proud to be a man, proud to be a little more like Keith Hernandez.