Babyface in Beardland

On October 28, 2014, by AMI Staff

Last Saturday, I attended The World Beard and Moustache Championships held in the richly bearded city of Portland, Oregon.  Despite recent controversy over the event’s legitimacy, it proved to be a magnificent experience. Wow Stache

In full disclosure, I am a clean-shaven mortal.  In a recent moment of weakness, I decided to level my face forest and subsequently, all testosterone drained from my body.  As I sheepishly waited in line for the event, the wind coldly whipping across my bare upper lip, I was given a card by a rep for Captain Fawcett’s Moustache Wax and told, “Maybe you can use this when it gets longer.”

The shame cut deep.

Once inside the lobby, the hairy circus was revealed – women laughed as they rode an 8-foot moustache seesaw, there were English moustaches that went on for days and freestyle beards that defied gravity.  I was transported to an alternate, superior universe in which the bearded and moustachioed man was everyman and bare-cheeked eyesores, such as myself, were a disdained minority.

The event itself was terribly disorganized and poorly run but the beardsmanship was world class.  The overall champion, Madison Rowley, had a magnificent Girabaldi as fluffy and full as a cumulonimbus.  Clearly, he had been crafting his facebush explosion for years as a way to protest his lady-name.  Other stand-outs included Roberto Campos in a full Mexican charro outfit (Imperial Moustache) and Michael Johnson’s beard which had been curled up on each side to look like a gigantic, 3-head wide moustache (Imperial Partial Beard).

In the end, I left with a renewed reverence for facial hair and a deep-seeded desire to return to the ranks of the bearded.  After all, as Gandhi famously uttered through his gentle but hairy upper lip, “It’s not what’s on the inside…it’s what’s on the outside of your facepiece that matters, you guys.”

  • Troy M. Rivás

    Love that last line!