The Mustache Mystique

Yesterday we went to a fun store in our neighborhood because my son wanted to buy a novelty eraser (all the kids had one, so naturally it had become Graham's obsession).

Once there, we were distracted by all the cool stuff, and Mom, never a frugal shopper, decided to buy our traditional "good report card" treats. Graham got a Futurama T-shirt and Ian an Iron Man.

At the check-out counter, though, as I was about to pay, I felt a little hand on my arm. Graham, eyes glowing, was pointing to an odd display by the register.

"Mustaches!" he said.

Graham has long been a lover of disguises, and I figured a mustache couldn't cost more than about fifty cents (I was very wrong about that). But since they had one that matched his hair color, I couldn't resist.

Now, as I watch my ten-year-old sporting a lip warmer all over the house, I am wondering again at the mystique of the mustache. What is the appeal of this fashion?


In the world of Magnum P.I., the mustache was a macho thing--something that somehow increased Tom Selleck's virility. He looks like a whole different guy without the 'stache, and I can't imagine the show, now, without a mustachioed Magnum.

Remember all of the creepy roles played by Vincent Price? His mustache had an entirely different effect, in that it seemed to highlight the sinister nature of the characters he played. (I don't think he had the mustache in Laura, but in many flicks he did).

And what about the 1970's Mark Spitz? His face on my Wheaties box would not have been recognizable without his telltale mustache--something that I came to connect with Olympian prowess. Today Spitz doesn't sport the mustache, and he looks like an entirely different man. The mustache creates a strong persona that the absence of a mustache somehow diminishes.

Then there are the famous waxed mustachios of the great Hercule Poirot. Hercule is fiction, but he's been brought to life by many actors, including David Suchet (seen here) and the great Peter Ustinov. Poirot's mustache was all about vanity. He saw these carefully tended hairs as a reflection of personal pride and attractiveness.

The mustache is a slippery symbol--it had the effect of creating a memorably handsome Clark Gable, a notoriously evil Fu Manchu, and an affably hunky Burt Reynolds.

Perhaps it is its diversity that makes the mustache a great disguise. One can use it to create an image--better yet, to create a red herring. If one sees the mustache, one won't necessarily see what is underneath it. That can come in very handy for a spy, a criminal, a lothario.

My son's mustache allows him endless fantasies, but it is oddly authentic, as though he is the shortest adult in our family. He also looks more like his father than ever, since his dad does, in fact, have a mustache. I imagine he'll ask for more of these hairy treats in his Christmas stocking. They come in all colors, and that will allow Graham to take on more personas. He can add the mustaches to his growing disguise collection: the false nose, the long beard, the fake glasses. And, of course, the endless array of hats.

Maybe in the future, when my son is in the CIA (let's hope it's the CIA and not the Cat Burglar's association), he'll trace his fascination with disguises to the little brown mustache he bought at the age of ten.

Who's your favorite mustached man?