There’s something going on with beards. *taps chin with fingers in a quizzical manner* And not the wispy ‘look at me I’m a twat’ bottom-of-the-spin-dryer-bumfluff-nonsense that you see wearing a stupid hat at music festivals. Even I have more facial hair than them.
I mean real, full-fat, grippable hunky-chunky beards. On twenty-something men. Here in DC. I spotted one the other day, and now they are everywhere. It’s like the capital has been invaded by the crew of the Spanish Armada, only they’re wearing beige slacks and navy blazers.
Is male grooming entering a new phase? Or re-entering an old phase? Am I a bit behind the curve? Christ on a bike, perhaps hunky-chunky beards are already passé but nobody told me. (I do know however that men here take depilation of their other hairy man-areas seriously. I give you Exhibit A).
My personal opinion is that hunky-chunky beards are the outward manifestation of the male ‘millennial’. I found out about millennials recently although, like the beards, I must have been in a coma for the past decade because they are everywhere and I’d never noticed them. Millennials are the generation of kiddies born after the 1980s for whom social media is the equivalent of chatting over the garden fence; who have an acute awareness of their role in a global community; who have a greater understanding of applied science than Dr. Emmet Brown, and a level of confidence so palpable you could put it in a sandwich and eat it. They embrace new technology like Jesus did Lazarus, whereas I poke it occasionally with a sharp stick until I am convinced it’s dead and unlikely to harm me.
I work in a team full of millennials. “Oh, you don’t know how to do an Excel spreadsheet?” was the first thing one of them mumbled to me through his beard. No I don’t, and please stop shedding on my desk. My colleagues all have i-phones and i-pads and I bet they would all be fuckity-i-fucked if there was a simultaneous i-power-and-wifi cut. What are you going to do with your twitching digits now, eh? TRY READING A BOOK. One made with paper.
I am being mean. For I too am fingering the hem of technology and finding it rather velvety. Take this blog, for instance. And perhaps the millennials have been sprinkling their techno-sparkle-dust on me, but since discovering that everyone’s at it and not wanting to feel like the last kid to be chosen for the group science project, I have finally succumbed. I tweeted. Managed to hit the tweet button whilst cowering under the desk. Then waited. And waited some more. Then realised that I actually needed to seek out ‘followers’. It’s more stressful than when your Mum arranges your 7th birthday party in the middle of the summer holidays. So far I have been marginally less successful than Lord Byron, a cat that tweets from Pennsylvania.
Tweeting is the millennial version of getting a poem printed in the school magazine and then waiting for everyone to tell you you’re a genius.
*drums fingers on table*
Still waiting …..