Trendy Guys

The Scene – AT&T store at our local mall, 15 March 2014. We just switched mobile phones and the upgraded plans did not begin without the usual hassles...usual for us anyway. Back we go for more debugging.

An aside. I apologize but despite the many weddings friends and family members asked me to shoot, I am really not a good people photographer. I prefer to photograph places and things…inanimate objects that don’t move and allow me all the time I need to get it right. These images are not mine but I had to find some modern, with-it, hip shots of trendy guys. Thanks to Google Images for that.

Beck is having the most difficulty and while she and the AT&T resident genius work on her phone AND laptop, my gaze wanders through the place. Against the interior walls are all the latest gadgets and telecom gizmos...phones and pads and all the accoutrements of the modern, wireless age. Above the displays are wall-size photos of beautiful people who appear to be having such a good time with their mobile devices. Everyone is smiling...content, happy...even giddy because their wireless devices have apparently satisfied their every need.

Except for the one, more mature-looking guy off to the side (still casually dressed, though), who appears to be employing his device to succeed in business, all the (young) male characters on the walls seem to have two things in common – perfect teeth and facial hair. Not too much hair. Not that Grizzly Adams, Stanley Cup or Boston-Red-Sox-in-October excess. Just enough. I still don’t know how the hipsters always look like they let the face go for just 2-3 days. There must be an appliance that achieves that look. I wouldn’t know.

Then I looked around. It’s easy to spot the AT&T employees in their blue shirts and iPad holsters slung from their shoulders. Without exception, every male on the job had some kind of facial hair. Even the Asian kid who must have let his upper lip go a month and if the light and angle was just right, you could see the fuzz.

I understand. The pull of fashion. The need to conform and be trendy...even if it feels like a contradiction.

I came up at a time when facial hair was a sign of rebellion. I was twenty years old and wanted to make a statement so I let only the upper lip go wild. I was going to grow my first mustache and the consequences be damned! Power to the People!

I’ll never forget that late night in my Bronx neighborhood bar...where we young adults would gather after weekend dates or (more often) hang out all night because we had no dates. I grew up in an Italian neighborhood where my friends started shaving when they were twelve. “You want a beard? Fuggetaboutit! Come back tomorrow and I’ll show you a beard.” I had gone weeks without shaving and was starting to be pleased with my progress when the following happened.

I was sitting at the bar with a buddy and next to him was one of the regulars...a middle-aged woman who spent too much time in this place. She was juiced and decided to berate my friend because he had facial hair. “What are you? Some kind of hippie? Go home and shave. Why can’t you be clean-shaven…like your friend there?”

I was crushed. My fair-haired genes were never going to work. I went home and immediately cut it off. But before I did, I took some of my mother’s mascara and darkened those hairs…just to see what it was supposed to look like. Oh, so that’s how I look with a mustache.

Still can’t grow a decent one. Won’t try now...especially since my bride much prefers the smooth feel of my freshly-shaved, baby-butt cheeks. Works for me.