From the Sun-Sentinel:
A revolution is afoot, and the soldiers on the front lines may not realize how serious the fight has become: Mustaches are taking over New York City.
The rebels themselves don’t know how it started.
“It just happened,” said the mustachioed NYU sophomore Armen Danilian, 19, as if a mustache fluttered down from the sky and landed on his upper lip. “I’m on that lazy-man note, you know?”
That note is becoming a five-act opera. Mustaches that sprouted last year out of laziness, or as jokes, or on dares, are clinging to skin and refusing to let go. Two years ago, mustaches on young men drew stares. These days, few men ride the L train without one.
While the mustache-wearing demographic is evolving, the mustache’s reputation is not. Many mustache-wearers admit the look evokes 1970s porn stars, cheesy action heroes and sketchy uncles. Some even say they adopted the style as a sort of gag. But as mustaches become widespread, they also become less outrageous. Irony is giving way to sincerity, raising the possibility that mustaches are here to stay.
Mine never left. I’ve had a mustache since the summer of 1974 when I went on a six-week backpacking trip in the Uintah Mountains and grew a beard. It came in patchy (think mange on a Labrador retriever) and I got rid of it when I got back to civilization, but the mustache remained.
I never really cared about fashion trends — I missed that part of the queer-training seminars — but I’ve always liked my ‘stache. But to find out that I’m hip may make me reconsider.