Sunday, 11 November 2012

Style IS Everything


Hello again, dear peruser of fine retro wares.

It has been a long week since my last article (does this feel like a confessional to anyone else?), and I am still having style issues with my mo. I did allude to the fact that the focus of this entry would be on that very subject, but for the unseasoned mo-grower out there, I feel that it is only right and proper that I convey just how much chagrin the mo can cause for one who aspires to have facial growth that is the height of grooming correctness.

For anyone who has dedicated any serious time to facial hair growth (other hair growth doesn’t, I’m afraid, count) will understand the problems caused by what I have come to call the ‘immature whisker’.  This does not refer to facial hair that is grown by a post-pubescent teenager in the hope of acquiring a look that makes purchasing alcohol easier (for those do not count as whiskers). No, dear reader, I am referring to the initial stages of the growth when the hair can’t make up it’s mind whether it is a portion of designer stubble, or an early-onset moustache. Well, this is where I currently reside.

The mo, in this picture, is 10 days old (a full third through its intended growth cycle) and you will not from the pensive expression on my face that it is at a crucial turning point of style: which way will it go?

Now, I was hoping (and indeed goaded by Emily, your resident Berylune blogger) to grow a Machete-style biker tash. However, due to a cruel genetic turn of fate, I appear to have a whiskerless area of skin just to one side of my mouth, rendering any aspirations of a ‘drooper’ fruitless. I feel, therefore, that I should take inspiration from the 20s literary set (Waugh, Forster etc.) and opt for something that gives an air of sophistication as opposed to something which suggests I should smell of leather. To aid my plight (clearly any hopes of such styles are a good week away), I have raided my prop cupboard and donned a couple of silly faces. I find they always help. Any preferences?



Whilst I was posing in front of the camera, I thought I would take the opportunity to model some of the trappings that any moustached chap wouldn’t go without. Firstly, you will notice the fab lapel badge (well, I wear it on my lapel) which is one of the very fine wood-cut badges that you will find if you drop into the Berylune store. In my hand is a retro laxative tin (thanks, again, Em), which I fill with mints then leave in full view on tables during work meetings.  It alleviates those awkward moments when you feel that you ought pass round the mints, but you don’t really want to. Trust me, no-one  ever wants one of mine!

Toodle pip for now.

No comments:

Post a Comment