Heeb

It’s back (again), sprouting from the upper lips of gaggles of Williamsburg hipsters, waving in the autumnal breeze as their jagged hips lead them down Bedford. The moustache. (Keep an eye on The New York Times Style section for some vapid piece that makes overly liberal use of the word "follicular"). Why the sudden reemergence of the handlebar, the horseshoe and the kick-ass porn-star ‘stache? Well, it’s simple—the ability to grow facial hair is a hipster boy’s best defense against being called out for his more feminine tendencies (read: wearing women’s pants, talking about his feelings and sharing his secret ambition to start an all-falsetto ‘90s cover band). During the summer months, a hipster male may compensate for his more womanly ways by displaying his hirsute chest (after “forgetting” to do up the top three buttons of his plaid shit) or by exposing his ghostly yet well-furred legs whilst parading about in the park in cut-off jorts. But once winter hits and everyone’s swaddled up to their ironic mullets in thrift store scarves, the hipster male is left with two choices: blend in with the suffering, sexless masses or heed the mighty battle cry of masculinity that echoes down through the ages and grow a fucking Fu Manchu.

____________________________________________________

Related Posts:

Stuff Hipsters Hate: Flight of the Conchords

Stuff Hipsters Hate: Focusing on the Future

Stuff Hipsters Hate: Poseurs

Stuff Hipsters Hate: Michael Cera

Stuff Hipsters Hate: Anyone Their Parents Think is Suitable to Date

Stuff Hipsters Hate: Paying For Food

Introducing Guest Blogger… Stuff Hipsters Hate

For more emotional venom, check out Stuff Hipsters Hate.