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I’ll say it– I’m a fan of the mustache. Sadly, we saw the ‘stache fall largely by the wayside over the past few decades as pretty boys seemed fixated on primping, grooming, moisturizing, metrosexualizing, etc. in a vain and sissy attempt to one-up the ladies in the looks department. Let the ladies be pretty. Let the men be men. I say — Bring. Back. The. ‘Stache. Not the pencil-thin, or micro groomed razor-sharp manifestations that border on ridiculous. Not the peach-fuzz, thin-lipped scummer ‘stache. Not the Teddy Roosevelt waxed work-of-art on some hipster who lacks respect and context. I’m talkin’ about an honest, unassuming mustache that’s there because it fits the wearer’s form and finishes him off– like dotting an “i”, crossing a “t”, or adding an exclamation point.
Now consider yourself warned — the mustache can cut both ways. While it can add character and distinction, balance your features, etc. — it can also make you look like a total _____ . So tread carefully, and be honest with yourself — because it ain’t for everyone. Ask Sean Penn.
And feel free to send in your favorite shots — the good, the bad, and the downright ugly.
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Jack Nicholson in The Last Detail (1973). I’ve always liked Jack with a ‘stache. Menacing.
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Circa 1970 — Robert Redford on his Utah mountain ranch. Nobody could ride the ‘stache like Redford. Image by John Dominis
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Charles Bronson –1970’s vigilante badass who let his mustache do the talkin’
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Frank Zappa — Arguably the ultimate mustachioed rock star to ever walk the planet. –Photo by Jerry Schatzberg, New York City, 1967
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The Selvedge Yard 