The only thing getting us collectively through this weird period of isolation is the fact that, other than the one stating we can’t go outside or hug anyone we love, there are no rules in lockdown. It’s practically the purge. There’s no morality or ethics under lockdown conditions. There’s just the whims of the slowly atrophying brain; the ocean of possibilities that opens up when all impulse control is fired. Do whatever you want, man. Do whatever feels good. Fuck it. Who cares. Who gives a shit. But also under no circumstances should you allow yourself to shave in that moustache you’ve been thinking about.
If you haven’t reached that point in your isolation journey yet – standing shirtless and wet in front of the bathroom mirror, twirling the razor around in your hand – trust me, you will. Please resist that urge when it comes. Because you’ll look like a fucken jackass.
You are not in any sort of right mind to be making that decision right now. Weeks of no physical contact have warped your brain into telling you it’ll look cool. It won’t. It’ll look like shit. Don’t do it.
Every single person who goes through the process of shaving in a moustache faces two drastically different realisations.
Pre-shave, there’s nothing but the expectation, which blindly assumes you’ll look like this.
Massive. Rugged. Handsome. Your chest will barrel up three sizes. Your fingertips will sprout impenetrable callouses. Printed shirts will magically appear in your wardrobe. Dirt cheap piss beer will suddenly taste magical. You spawn a stepchild spontaneously.
And then there’s post-shave, the reality, where you realise you actually look like this.
Ratty. Always damp. Like you smell like a sharehouse couch and sell really shitty weed.
Those of you with clean chins and lips should stick to “I let myself go a bit, whatever” stubble at the absolute most; lord knows that’s a look far easier to explain than one that screams “they’re a bit soggy, sure, but if we chuck ’em in the microwave these firecrackers should dry up fine.”
Those of you currently rocking face-covering beards, do not pare those back. You grew the beard to hide something. Keep it hidden.
It’s a commitment we all should be making; even those of you capable of growing a good one. Moustaches follow pandemic spread models; one encourages another, then suddenly two more appear, and before you know it it’s too late to contain.
Movember works as an isolated period because it’s contained, it is finite, there is an exit date impelling people to rid themselves of the horrible face caterpillars that have inched across the skin. But if we allow people to simply shave in moustaches now, it runs rampant. It is wildfire. There’s no way to tell anyone how or when to end it.
At this early stage, it’s incumbent on all of us to track, trace, and contain any rogue moustache cases that emerge. That’s how we stop this awful thing from spreading. All legs moving in the one direction.
We’re all in this together, mates. The Iso Mo has got to go.
