Before the McStache contest began, I couldn’t go more than a week without shaving. The itching would drive me so crazy that I’d find myself in the bathroom, razor in hand, saying, “I’m just going to clean up the neck …” and then I’d emerge five blissful minutes later, whisker-free.
So far I haven’t fallen prey to that particular whim. I do find myself bringing up the contest as soon as I meet new people, almost like an apology for the not-quite-there appearance.
Yesterday I was feeling lazy and left the house wearing my big black-framed glasses, a week’s worth of stubble and superflat hair with a severe side part straight out of “Mad Men.” (Picture here.) I felt like I was wearing a disguise. But before my friends’ wine-tasting party/competition, I clippered down everything except for the mustache and part of the chin scruff, too; over the past week I have morphed from The Suspicious-Looking Frenchman to Inigo Montoya In Training.
|WHAT SAM WORE: 11-21-10
|The shirt: T-shirt by Diesel, from Last Chance.|
|The shorts: Cutoff cords from Lucky Jeans, Chandler Fashion Center.|
|The shoes: Jack Purcell sneakers by John Varvatos for Converse, from Nordstrom Rack.|