Mustache Sporting

A mustache—a sartorial time machine stitched above the lip—commands attention before words ever could.

As I first sported the mustache, hesitation seeped in. Can I pull it off? Do I really look my best? Donning a mustache goes beyond aesthetics. It required embracing this audacious accessory, adjusting to its weight, and confronting the shift in my reflection.

A mustache is your silent spokesman. The world sees it before they see you. It precedes you into rooms, forging first impressions before a single word is said. Every strand a mute syllable, composing and projecting an implicit language that is distinctively yours.

A mustache is a cry for revolution complying with an office chair. In the stark world of sleek corporate professionalism, where conformity is often a requisite, a mustache dares to deviate. This unassuming sliver of hair carries the weight of an unspoken oath — a conduit to subvert the status quo.

A mustache is a bold statement perched on the brink of tomorrow. It lives at the mercy of your razor. This transient nature of the mustache, so subject to the whims of your desire, calls for an ironclad pledge. It is a delicate dance with the fleeting nature of existence, day after day.

But above all, a mustache is an absurdity. A dash of comedy inked onto the face. How many of history’s stars, from Einstein to Mercury to Nietzsche, have walked an exaggerated life through the underlined humor of a mustache? Even in its seriousness, it beckons laughter. Therein lies its paradoxical charm, the seduction of the mustache.

It wields power to instigate change, yet never takes itself too seriously.

Mustache Sporter, and a Sinker of Ships

Built with Rust & Leptos

2024 Nico Burniske. All rights reserved.