Beard Effect

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.

Beards I Like

A Cossack volunteer in the first Chechen War

Summer Cocktails

Bearded Young Fogey

A Word on Beards and Hipsters

The evening chill descends on my beachfront neighbourhood like a tiresome guest at a cocktail party. I sit on my balcony and sip a glass of Argentine malbec, enjoying the sound of the pounding surf. An unsettling thought suddenly occurs to me. For all of my hostility towards the hipsters, I realize, I actually share quite a number of similarities with them.

These are, for the most part, merely superficial. Flannel shirts and denim? I've been wearing them for years, although mine are probably laundered more frequently. Horn-rimmed spectacles? Been there, done that, about to do it again. Short back-n-sides or clipped haircut? Ditto, and you can check it out for yourself on this blog. Beard? Yes, it's well-documented, recently, too.

Important differences exist. For one, I don't have any tattoos, although I'm not particularly hostile to the idea. The other thing is, where hipsters often try to look like woodsmen, I actually have the physique of a lumberjack. Most of the hipsters I've seen are small, wiry young fellows. It's not their fault, though; I applaud them for trying. And finally, as you know, I thoroughly loathe bow-ties.

This comparison, I believe, was subconsciously prompted by a recent article at The Atlantic on beards. The piece in question essentially labelled as 'racist' European-American men who sport facial hair, such as yours truly. Reviewing the history of beards in America, it is an amusing piece of research, and reading it one would be hard-pressed to determine if the author, Sean Trainor, is being entirely serious. I suspect he is.

Anti-beardism, I would argue, is simply the result of lesser-male jealousy. Beard envy, if you will. A beard practically roars masculinity. It is blatant testament to the inequality between the sexes, and, one might add, among the races. And if one combines it with height, weight-lifting and the right attitude, it's bound to alarm the smooth-cheeked mangina contingent. All of these combine to produce a powerful rebuke to the prevailing ideology of egalitarianism.

One might go further. Bearded hipsterdom itself in a way represents a reclamation of masculine style and masculine pastimes. It is a carving-out of a masculine space in an increasingly feminized world. I would add here that there is a deep undercurrent of European-American identity in this project, however strongly hipsters and others might deny it. Note the appropriation of their forefathers' clothing, the dedication to old-school grooming, the taking-up of antiquated crafts and vocations. One might go on.

All of this, of course, is too great a shock to the fogey system and merits no more than a few moments' worth of reflection.

I pour another glass of wine, pull my Barbour quilted jacket around myself, and glare into the darkness.

Beard On

As you may have heard, the beard is back. (No hipster). It's a thick number in blonde, red, and brown, entirely in keeping with my Norse lineage. Beard will out. It's easy to maintain. I simply trim it every 3 weeks or so to keep the bewhiskered awesomeness in check. I have zero tolerance for badly-behaved beards. I'm consistently surprised at the attention it garners from the ladies, which can be blatant. And--as more than one observant girlfriend has remarked to me--from some of the younger smooth-cheeked chaps as well. Chalk it up to beard envy.

Beards I Like

Rugby Beards

Beard you like? I do. The word sur la rue is that I've grown a beard. It's true, I have done. It's a trimmed model with a reddish-blonde exterior, not unlike that of the chap in the middle of the photo (at left). I've received many positive comments on it, especially from the ladies. What they're thinking, I've no idea. (If you're a chapette and approve of beards, please submit an explanatory comment). Me, I simply wanted to change it up a bit, to effect the Wall Street-meets-Mountain Man look, or, as my chums keep pointing out, the 'Most Interesting Man In The World'. The look, I've been told, suits me quite well.

Bearded Weirdies

As you know, I'm generally not the kind of chap who would turn his nose up at a hairy puss. Not when the beard in question belongs to an angry Viking or mountain sage. Or HRH Prince Michael of Kent (at left), whose beard looks entirely proper and appropriate. I myself have been known to grow wild whiskers in blonde and red. But when carefully-cultivated facial hair starts showing up on the smug mugs of young middle-class professionals--well, even I have second thoughts. In recent months I have noticed an increase in young beards in the local community, including the office. It almost goes without saying there are some chaps who simply shouldn't even try, such as a certain short, weedy 59-year old senior tutor with curly hair, thick specs, and a rangy beard with bits of Weetabix stuck in it, who is inadvertently caught down the pub skipping his lecture. But I can't explain the latest trend. There's something suspicious about it. It screams "trying too hard". Are young men following the dictates of some pop icon or fashion guru? Are they trying to showcase their masculinity, or hide a chubby face? It's bad enough that they are young. Why must they be scruffy, too?

Beards I Like

Gieves & Hawkes On Moustaches

In homage to Movember
By Gieves & Hawkes
3 November, 2009

Gieves & Hawkes are proud to support Movember – prostate cancer awareness month, in which gentlemen are encouraged to cultivate a fine moustache all November long. In homage to this special cause, we are delighted to bring you a brief history of moustaches though the ages.

Moustaches have been sported throughout the ages in a myriad of different styles. Early records show Egyptians did not grow facial hair, considering it unclean, while in Greece they grew beards but not moustaches. Elaborately curled and anointed with costly essences, the beard denoted gravitas and rank.

Under the kingship of Alexander the Great, the hirsute Macedonians went to war with the Persians. During these skirmishes, the Macedonians were grabbed by their beards and many killed. Alexander decreed that henceforth they should all be clean-shaven to avoid disaster in this way.The Romans perfected the art of men’s grooming and the barbershop became one of the places to meet, exchange gossip and be pampered in the process. These early spas provided hair-cutting, shaving, manicure and massage services to keep the man about Rome looking fabulous.

Then came the Roman emperor Hadrian, who allegedly grew facial hair to conceal imperfections. This started a fashion and suddenly all the Roman nobility followed suit.

As men start to grow facial hair after the onset of puberty, throughout the ages it has been regarded as a sign of virility and manhood. In the British army young men were encouraged to foster the growth of facial hair, culminating in the luxuriant moustaches seen in engravings and sepia pictures of dashing majors and crusty brigadiers. One of the most famous examples being the conscription posters around the time of the First World War, with Lord Kitchener exhorting that “your country needs you”.

Moustaches in some areas of military life were obligatory. The European Hussars traditionally wore long moustaches but not beards. These gentlemen were the apogee of the swash-buckling male — a dashing, conceited amorous figure of whom it was said that men fled from and woman ran towards.


Text ©2009 Gieves and Hawkes

Bewhiskered and Betweeded

As you may already have heard, I have now grown a beard. It is a blonde number with hints of red and brown, a tribute in part to my Viking ancestors. I have already received several compliments on it, plus some admiring glances. The blonde whiskers accentuate my blue eyes, or so I have been told. I profess to have an instinctive bias against facial hair, but in truth I have long harboured a secret desire to sport a beard and moustache. In my English dreams, which come to me now in exile on an increasingly frequent basis, I picture myself sporting a thick, hairy tweed jacket, lovat moleskin trousers, tweed cap, and beard, with a pipe and pint of bitter in hand.