Beards

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February 15, 2012

“I love beards...”

Beards A love story by Justin Bell

photos by Matt Hirji

O

kay, let me rephrase that. I love my beard.

For the past 10 years my chin has barely seen the light of day. I’ve had sported everything from sideburns to a chin strap.

“It makes you look older,” some people would say. “It makes you look distinguished,” a few would gush. It never met with as much approval from my family, but they always held their tongue when it came to my beard.

It wasn’t until I decided to shave it all off that I realized how much people linked my image with facial hair. I decided to ditch it for Movember — a chance to let my face breath again while at the same time win a silly competition I was in.

So the morning of Nov. 1, I did what I hadn’t done in nearly a decade; I shaved my face clean. It was the first time since 2001 that my chin had seen unfiltered sunlight. It took me almost three days to recognize myself in the mirror, and I couldn’t stop touching my newly naked face.

What really surprised me was the reaction from my friends. I posted a picture of my baby face on Facebook, and it had nearly 50 comments in about two hours. Friends stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me, unable to believe what their eyes were showing them. Those who could muster a few words stuttered so badly you’d think I was sporting a bullet wound rather than a clean shave.

This reaction got me thinking about my facial hair and how much it was tied to my personality. I was a beard person, through and through. I have grown everything from mutton chops to goatees and my current

bushy beard. But were there others out there like me?

I decided to start my investigation locally, heading to the one place where beards aren’t looked down on: the barber shop.

My search brought me to Mickey’s Barber Shop, a small establishment just off Whyte Ave. It’s a little place barely wide enough for the two upholstered barber chairs where the owner, Naif Moustafa, works his magic. On the wall beside the mirror is a sign that says “Cash Only” and again by the till, making the message clear.

younger clients.

“Mostly the people they have a beard and they style it, they’re young,” Moustafa says.

“They don’t like the full beard.”

But there have been some changes in attitude towards facial hair since Moustafa got his start. While his clients now look for a well-groomed look and short hair, it used to be that long hair and full beards dominated.

And in Lebanon, he saw a lot more moustaches. Stubble, the red-headed stepchild of the facial hair world, is also popular these days. Moustafa sees a lot of customers with

“I’m the only academic that works on (beard history) ... No one touches it. It doesn’t seem worthy of being an academic subject.”

Dr. Christopher Oldstone-Moore

The world’s foremost expert on beards, Wright State University When I walk in, Moustafa is furiously snipping away at a young man’s hair. As he’ll later tell me, his clientele looking to have their beards trimmed are usually younger and come in about once per month. These are my people — those serious about their facial hair.

I’ve found my home.

Moustafa finishes up with his client and sits down to talk beards. He’s been cutting hair and styling beards for 25 years, starting at the age of 14 in the Bekaa Valley in his native Lebanon. By 15 he was doing straightrazor shaves. He still does straight-razor shaves here in Edmonton, usually for his

stubble, those who are stuck between shaving and growing. Stubble is the Switzerland of the follicular world.

And the barber himself? He’s got a solid growth coming in. He met his wife with a full bushy beard, and she loves it.

“I like it. I used to have my beard for 17 years.

The reason I shave it is it’s all grey.”

So I’ve got the local experience on beards from a facial-hair guru, but I need to widen my scope. There must be someone out there able to give me a broader historical account of facial hair and it’s importance. I love history, I love beards; there must be someone else who

has put these two things together.

Of course there is, and I find him on the internet. But don’t let that demean his status as the world’s “foremost expert on beards.” At least, that’s what current affairs magazine Mother Jones called him; it’s difficult to tell if they were being facetious.

Dr. Christopher Oldstone-Moore is a history professor at Wright State University in Ohio. He’s also one of the few academics to look at patterns of facial hair and try to gauge their meaning.

Because of the distance, he agrees to discuss beards over Skype. And how can I argue with that? As an expert, I figure this guy must have some ridiculous ZZ Top style growth going on. The video feed comes up and OldstoneMoore is clean shaven. I suddenly know how lab monkeys feel. But his knowledge belies his clean shave.

“How does one become the foremost expert on beards?” I ask him.

“I think it’s because I’m the only academic that works on it. What’s out there in terms of beard lore and beard theory, it’s all very disconnected and anecdotes and nobody has tried to put it together.

“I’m an historian, so I got into it. No one touches it. It doesn’t seem worthy of being an academic subject.”

He’s so enthused he’s writing a book for general audiences, called A Brave Face. OldstoneMoore explains the different attitudes people have had about beards throughout the years.

Initially, of course having a beard was the natural default.

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Shaving was popularized by Alexander the Great because he wanted to look like the images he saw of Heracles, who artists had depicted as clean-shaven: eternally young.

The trend caught on, and his soldiers started shaving too.

Attitudes changed throughout the millennia. In the Middle Ages, a split developed between men of the Church and the secular nobility. Churchmen shaved, while knights grew out masculine beards. Then in the 15th century, some of the nobility wanted to shave to seem more devout, while some priests and bishops started to grow beards. What a topsyturvy world we live in.

Fast-forward to the 19th century, and everything changed again. Suddenly everyone was growing beards again.

“In that case, you have a redefinition of masculinity and a democratic industrial age and what I think men were hoping to do was to hold on to a little bit of the old style of masculinity that recaptured the patriarch of a past.”

Now, Oldstone-Moore says the default has reverted to shaving. So when someone grows out a beard, it’s an effort to show their independence — that they aren’t part of the standardized corporate look.

“You don’t have to follow those rules. It’s no surprise that musicians might adopt a beard because that’s the kind of man they are.”

It’s a dizzying amount of history to take in, even for a history major. But what about his lack of beard? How can a beard expert not have a beard?

“I go in and out. I think one of the big factors is how women in your life think of it. When I married my wife, I was clean shaven. Women like whatever it is when you get together.”

Okay, I can buy that.

So beards are tied to independence and masculinity. I need to talk to someone both masculine and independent. Who has those sort of credentials...?

Athletes.

And who has a more famous beard on the U of A campus than former Bears Volleyball superstar “The Bearded Menace,” Joel Schmuland.

He grew a beard in the 2008-2009 season so big, Bears mascot Guba imitated it for a game.

You know you’ve made it big when mascots start to imitate you.

Why the big growth?

“It all started shortly after the end of the season the year before (07-08),” says Schmuland over email from France, where he’s now playing for a club team. “We had just won at nationals so we were all on cloud nine and one evening, over a few drinks I’m sure, one of the graduating players brought up the fact that we were hosting nationals the following year and as such we got an automatic berth into the nationals tournament. This obviously meant that we had effectively made playoffs from the start of the season and therefore should have to start our playoff growth then.”

So to take on the drunken challenge, Schmuland started his playoff beard six months early. It got so big that he would accidentally bite into it while eating sandwiches and he spent more money on shampoo for his beard than for his hair.

The bushy beard changed his outlook on facial hair. He now knows what he would look like with a mass of hair hanging off his chin and no longer has to face the burning question, “Do I look good in a beard?”

“I also look at people who have a big beard differently,” Schmuland says. “When I look at them now I think, ‘I’ve done that.’ It does make you take notice of the different types of beards.”

What Schmuland says is true for pretty much anyone with a beard. Once you start growing one, you sit up and take notice of all the facial growth happening around you. In a way, it’s a ticket to to an exclusive club, one where the bonds are follicular rather than patrimonial or societal.

I’ve done the same thing, taking notice when I see an especially well-groomed chin. My own beard has changed over time. I tried growing a goatee in high school, but failed horribly.

Then suddenly, at the age of 18, I could grow a massive beard. Ever since then, it’s been a love affair without end.

If only Alexander the Great hadn’t decided to adopt the baby-face look, maybe my fascination with facial hair would be the norm.

That’s a world I’d want to live in.

CONTEST You too can experience what it’s like to have a beard by using this handy cut-out paper Bell-beard.

And we here at The Gateway love prizes just as much as we love beards. Cut out this beard, put it on your face and post a pic to:

Twitter: @the_gateway Facebook: facebook.com/thegatewayonline Just for that, you’ll be entered into a draw for a $20 gift card to Starbucks. The contest ends on Friday at 4 p.m., so get cutting.