Facial Fros: Of beards and men

24 July 2014 - 02:15 By Yolisa Mkele
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FALL FROM GRACE: His beard may no longer be cool, but Clayton Pyle has no intention of mowing his maw
FALL FROM GRACE: His beard may no longer be cool, but Clayton Pyle has no intention of mowing his maw
Image: BYRON KEULEMANS

In days of yore, the beard was a noble thing. It was worn by manly, erudite men who contemplated the meaning of life, or by boys trying to sneak into clubs.

A well-manicured tuft of hair growing from the nether regions of the face gave the impression that a man could hold his own in a fight against a wild animal, calculate theories of relativity and keep warm during winter.

Sadly, the once splendidly masculine furry chin strap has devolved into a fashion statement for young men whose idea of erudition is preaching the merits of Radiohead to Coldplay fans.

The dying breaths of the hipster movement, however, may signal the emancipation of the woolly- cheek mammoth from the shackles of fashion.

Born from the clean-shaven ashes of a metrosexual era that ended in the early 2000s, fashion's latest love affair with beards has gained momentum thanks, in part, to bands like Kings of Leon, Mumford and Sons and Bon Iver.

Spreading from the gentrified streets of Williamsburg, New York, the lust for a look that fitted in with the counterculture nature of the hipster movement led hordes of fashionably rebellious youth, draped in Ramones T-shirts, to abandon their razors.

The craving for a facial 'fro got so bad that some went to the extreme of spending small fortunes to get hair transplants on their chins. In March the Daily Mail reported that more than 4500 transplants had been carried out last year in the UK, with some costing up to R71000.

However, not every fashionable beard owes its existence to hipsters and transplants.

"I sported a beard for a few years prior to their resurgence. When I started [growing it out] I was self-employed and decided to let my beard grow to new lengths because I was under no obligation to cut it," said Clayton Pyle, a Cape Town-based musician and model.

The ubiquity of hipsterism could ultimately be what sends the beard back to its natural habitat on the faces of lumber-jacks and professors in tweed jackets. What started as a counterculture movement by a small group of people to differentiate themselves from the herd has become so mainstream that having a shaggy snout has become the hallmark of conformity.

This means that soon those who wish to remain true rebels shall venture out into the cultural wilderness to find a new fad for the rest of us to latch on to. Pyle, however, has no intention of mowing his maw any time soon.

"Personally I would never be clean shaven. Not unless an opportunity came knocking at my door that required it, and was too difficult to refuse," he said.

For those who were bearded before it was fashionable, the fading of the golden age of hipsterism is bittersweet.

On the one hand, it signals the welcome end of a brief era when strangers automatically assumed they were self-employed artisanal craftsmen who appreciated Japanese heavy metal played on didgeridoos. On the other, there is the sad realisation they may never be this cool again.

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