Long Before No Shave November, I Was A Beard Guy
Charlie Bliss doesn’t let his facial hair dictate his impressions. (Photo: Charles Bliss)
I had a beard before beards were everywhere. In fact, I had a beard before I even wanted one. I’d like to say that I’m a cutting edge trendsetter, and that my face is ground zero for my generation’s fashion choice, but the truth is, I’ve just always hated shaving. It’s boring, time consuming, and for some reason, I’m just really bad at it.
In middle school, my facial hair amounted to a downy, fledgling pattern of fur. Starting in about 2004, I shaved about every other day, but during one weeklong trip for school, I just let it go. It wasn’t as patchy as I expected, and I started to like the idea of growing a beard. Early in high school I was bald in a perfect circle under my chin, but thick and thriving everywhere else like some inverse Franciscan Monk. But even with its idiosyncrasies, my beard gave me a sense of identity. Not only was I one of the few high schoolers who was able to grow a beard, but none of the adults I knew were sporting one either. I remember one of the older kids complaining that I had a fuller beard in 9th grade than he was able to grow in college. It was a point of pride, and, though I would still shave every other week or so, I became the beard guy. And I liked standing out. The advantage to having a beard in high school, no one expects you to follow the herd. My beard was my way of telling the world (or at least my high school) that I was my own man.
After 2010 everything changed. Suddenly everyone was rocking a full-length, maintained and styled beard or mustache. I became just one in a bushy, bearded crowd. It was like the Appalachian trail changed its course and ended in Williamsburg. Suddenly my beard wasn’t a part of me, it was a mere accessory. Beards became a trend, a fashion choice. I wasn’t a fan of this cultural shift at all. The beard used to be part of me, now it just meant I was another hipster in the sea of mason jars and ironic mustaches.
Once I entered the workforce, I realized the professional acceptability of facial fur was difficult to navigate. Should I shave for an interview? Or would I be considered cooler and more of a fit if I kept my beard? It was hard to know. Sometimes, the guy interviewing me looked like Ray Jackson from Bloodsport’s homeless lunatic beard, weird denim cardigan and everything. Then, I would wonder, ‘Why the hell did I shave? We could have bonded!’ For a job in Brooklyn, I kept my beard. The entire borough is bearded so it seemed like an obvious choice. But I discovered the whole office has consciously or subconsciously committed to a professional, old-world aesthetic. The entire office looked like Mad Men, not a beard in sight, leaving me to look scruffy, slightly messy, and definitely not like the right fit.
Ultimately, at 24, I saw that I had to stop trying to match my beard to an office vibe. Frankly, I don’t want to work somewhere that’s not going to let me have my beard. It may not make me stand out anymore, but it keeps me warm on frosty winter nights when I can’t be bothered to put on a scarf. It’s the perfect accessory for Halloween when I grow it out and cut it up to look like Joaquin Phoenix in Her. The biggest thing is that when I have a beard I feel like me. Plus, it’s still easier than shaving.
Related:
Moustaches and Man Buns: 100 Years of Men’s Grooming [Video]
No Shave November is Working Overtime at the CMAs
Get Inspired For Movember With HBO Now’s New Episode Collection
