The subject was moustaches today on Colin McEnroe’s fine radio program, and having perpetrated lip fur on the Connecticut populace for 35 years, I was an honored guest. Well, maybe not honored, but…
My moustache went away in March, 2007. Its tiny remnants were washed down a hotel sink into the sewers of Buenos Aires, Argentina.
It died a natural death. Born as a thick, black Fu Manchu in 1972, it had withered into a scraggly gray lip liner. At the end, it registered as black on the air because I colored it with mascara donated by The Woman Formerly Known As Joanne Nesti. When she was done with a tube, I could get another 6 months out of it. Lancôme. Good stuff. But TWFKAJN departed, and shortly thereafter, so did my mo.
Among the other guests on the program was Adam Garone of Movember. Sounds like a terrorist organization, but it’s not, though their cause is revolutionary: promoting men’s health. Their shtick: grow moustaches in November to raise awareness about prostate cancer and other men’s health issues. (You can hear the entire program by clicking here.)
I’m all in, except for the actual growing a moustache part. Because it’s still there. A full, jet black Fu Manchu. Really, it’s still there.
You just can’t see it.