An evening out at a crowded hipster joint on Saturday night convinced me of one thing that will make for a pretty short blog post: pretentious people love sporting facial hair patterns that defy the laws of physics. There is no doubt in my mind that they believe the more socially awkward their beards and moustaches are – and the more they can make you uncomfortable by giving you the “Blue Steel” (TM Zoolander) gaze when you look at them (because obviously any lingering glance is because you feel confused, but ultimately humbled by their great creative growth accomplishment) – the more successful they will be at being quirky, which will hopefully make it okay for them to be lawyers instead of musicians, artists and writers … or make it acceptable for them to say they are musicians, artists and writers without having to actually “create” anything tangible.
The following are three of my least favorite combinations:
The Modified Tom Selleck
This one is basically characterized by the absence of a beard, and the presence of a mustache with neither rhyme nor reason. It didn’t even look good on Magnum P.I., and women secretly wanted to boff him in spite of it … not because of it. We know better now.
Mutton chops have been around forever, but “choplets” are what happens when there is no moustache or attention paid to anything that surrounds the mutton chops. In this scenario, the hairy chops appear as though they’ve been vomited out by the rest of the hair. Often this look accompanies “ironic” pattern baldness.
The ZZ Topless
This look is basically what happens when a person with no hair grows an absurdly long beard. It can be seen with or without a moustache, and often is accompanied by a trucker hat or a derby.
And here’s a taste of what you’d really be doing if you weren’t thinking so hard about it, and genuinely were a true beard-or-stach-trepreneur:
The Spaghetti Bowl
The Hepa Filter Handlebar
The Dusty Cradle
Gratuitous experimentation with facial hair began as an ironic experiment in shocking others. I have not proven this hypothesis beyond a reasonable doubt, but it is my fairly educated opinion as a person that has mingled, often undetected, amidst the awkwardly bearded in New York City for almost a decade. However, I believe that now these pretentious many that have learned to so expertly manipulate their own hormones are so lost in their own irony that they are drowning in a sea of their razors’ worst decisions.
This blog post was brought to you by the World Beard and Moustache Championships (which is the next level you could achieve if you stopped simply competing with yourself or the homeless people in Williamsburg).