Though I may be fooling myself, I can still maintain that my own look unfolded naturally and on its own time-albeit in a way that incidentally strikes me as very ’70s. He was my OG idea of cool, so maybe his ’stache and burns were as destined for my face as his distinguished nose. I've always thought my dad looks like a total badass in photos from his early years in America-a mustachioed doc embarking on a new life. (He’s been clean-shaven for more than 25 years.) Though, of course, the first time I showed up at my folks' place for the holidays sporting a mustache, they immediately appreciated the resemblance. Looking back, I didn’t consciously set out to cop the facial-hair style my father had when he was my age, or ask his expert tips along the way, either. It was suggested to me by a hipster on a train barreling toward my home of New York City he was visiting for the first time ever and spent the whole ride nervously rubbing the wax between his thumb and forefinger, twirling his ’stache into whimsical shapes. I’ve only ever used one product on my mustache, a wax from Man’s Face Stuff. He suggested brushing down on it while I sat around watching TV, to train wily strays to eventually fall in line. Clean with a mustache): A plain old toothbrush works just as well as pricier tools designed specifically to tame the beast. I also learned a simple hack from my Sicilian barber (think Mr. I started placing my finger under my nose and pressing down, using a tiny pair of nail scissors to snip any hair that crossed the border onto my top lip (still works like a charm). A friend assured me that once the hair grew to a certain length, I could direct the whole bushy mess downward. Plenty of my peers were embarking on their own experiments with chin pubes and other dorm-room grooming looks, and my burns became a subtle signature.Īt first, it looked like walrus whiskers had chosen my upper lip as base camp for their sudden attack on mankind. They went along with my vaguely vintage vibe and the flared jeans and wide collars that were de rigueur in the early aughts. There were hairless patches along the way (which, to my mortification, my mom suggested I color in with eyebrow pencil), but I thought my burns were just groovy. As a show of nascent adulthood, in college I encouraged them to creep down past my ears. When hair started cropping up on my face, scraggly though it was, the first area it laid claim to was my sideburns. But let’s be honest: How much can we consider anything in the slow march to becoming our parents a “choice”? I comfort myself by recalling that my current look evolved gradually over a number of years. Now, I realize that much of this styling is my choice. When I look in the mirror, I see a face very close to what my father’s looked like in 1978: long sideburns, thick mustache, and bushy brows. Does it not follow that we have dad beards now as well? We make dad jokes some of us even have dad bods. But circumstance has led me to an utterly unscientific but wholly plausible theory. NFL footage © NFL Productions LLC.The genetics are still murky when it comes to how, exactly, we inherit the quality of our facial hair. All other NFL-related trademarks are trademarks of the National Football League. The team names, logos and uniform designs are registered trademarks of the teams indicated. NFL and the NFL shield design are registered trademarks of the National Football League.
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