Sunday, March 09, 2008
Years ago, I had a moustache. I loved it. I loved it way it felt and I loved the way it looked on me.
I always used to fancy men with moustaches and they used to be incredibly fashionable. Look back at pictures from the early 20th century and you'd hardly see a man without one.
Even back in the early eighties they were still popular but then the straight world saw them as "gay" and the gay world saw them as "so last week" and they died out in much of the western world.
The exception seems to be New York and isolated parts of the UK but no-one knows why.
When I had one, they were already unpopular and I got stick from all of my friends, my family and even my boyfriend about it. I stuck with it though for a few months until one of my many trimming accidents had me shave it off and since then I have either been clean-shaven or had a beard or a goatee.
Yesterday, however, I had a haircut and beard-trim. It was rather more severe than I was expecting and my beard has largely disappeared. During the cut, the barber left trimming the hair under my nose until last and so for a very brief time I had a moustache once more.
It was so tempting to just stop her at that point and leave it on. In many ways I wish I had. It's been a long while since I even thought about having one and I didn't realise how much I missed it.
The question remains as to whether I miss it enough to fly against the opposition of everyone in my life.