Bearded Furor

"I love the beard," she said to me as we walked to one of our regular cocktail establishments in Newport Beach. Tables of diners dotted the patio. Young surfers and their girls rode by on beach cruisers, boards in hand. "It looks hot."

She continued: "But don't think I don't notice all these women checking you out."

"Of course they do," I replied. "But I don't pay attention to that sort of thing."

Well, not quite. I knew that a moment ago, a young red-headed hottie did a double-take as I walked by her table. And the previous night while we were out, I received maximum eye-contact from the local girls, which made her visibly agitated.

This has been happening a lot recently.

I attribute it to the beard.

As you know, for the last two months I've been growing out my beard. It's now fairly long [think: Commander Whitehead], and sports an intriguing mixture of blonde, red, and brown colours. My blonde moustache, in particular, is getting quite long, Hussar-style, and I'm sure I'll soon be able to wax it.

As you're no doubt aware, beards (and tattoos) have become quite common amongst the hipster set. It's an attempt, I think, to look edgy and masculine. But these young men tend to be rather skinny and unassuming. Beards often look awry on them.

The only men therefore who should be allowed to wear beards are tall, muscular chaps who look as if they could take care of themselves down a dark alley after midnight. But that's just me.

She tells me it's unique and that she hasn't seen any other chaps around with similar facial hair. Which is true.

"You look like one of those guys from Vikings," she pointed out, referring to the History Channel televisual show.

Sometimes, as she explained to me, beards just look better on some men than on others.

Indeed.