The London Lounge

Certainly one of the finest things in life! As eloquent as they are about the soul who wears them, moustaches can be scorned, admired, categorized, feared and even forbidden; they eventually become synonym of irony, rebellion and flapperness.

They talk to me about a somehow unfortunate time present, like the poor guy who used to work at the meat counter of my local Sainsbury's and had been forced to wear a silly, red net all around his goatee. The memory of the day he appeared without facial hair still brings me pain.

The best memory they bring to my mind? a first date. I was waiting for this girl in Argyll Street during evening rush hour. She eventually arrived 45 minutes late and almost drunk. No second date, but, during those 75 minutes (..as I was 30 min early) three girls stopped for something along the lines of "sorry, I just want to say that I love your style".

My present girlfriend says it must be in my blood and kindly provides documentation of illustrious Italians of questionable taste (Re Vittorio Emanuele II, Re Umberto I, Re Vittorio Emanuele III).

Have you got a moustache and a story?

Below: a young Arturo Toscanini.

Not a fantastic story but I've had a lot of compliments from ladies (other than my wife, alas.. ) about the rather restrained mosutache I've been sporting.

I just wish I had the constancy and committment to get a proper handlebar.

OT:Forty-five minutes is too indulgent! Half an hour says the other party is not sufficiently interested to observe punctuality, actions over words. This goes for meetings of a non-romantic kind, too.

Frederic Leighton wrote: My present girlfriend

One would suggest that a simple 3 word statement can infer living at the 'dubious' end of the scale far more than the styling of facial hair.

Man at C&A wrote:

Frederic Leighton wrote: My present girlfriend

One would suggest that a simple 3 word statement can infer living at the 'dubious' end of the scale far more than the styling of facial hair.

Come hear me play tomorrow at Somerset House. I promise you a coffee and 10 minutes for you to tell me how more respectable than me you are.

Frederic Leighton wrote:

Man at C&A wrote:

Frederic Leighton wrote: My present girlfriend

One would suggest that a simple 3 word statement can infer living at the 'dubious' end of the scale far more than the styling of facial hair.

Come hear me play tomorrow at Somerset House. I promise you a coffee and 10 minutes for you to tell me how more respectable than me you are.

Nice

Touché

Damn shame I can't make the clavichord performance... and at Somerset House, too!
It's so annoying having to work all day...

This exchange has considerably brightened an otherwise dull morning.
Thank you to both men involved, however strong or weak their claims to respectability!

robert_n wrote:OT:Forty-five minutes is too indulgent! Half an hour says the other party is not sufficiently interested to observe punctuality, actions over words. This goes for meetings of a non-romantic kind, too.

Dear Robert, I grew up in a place where trains depart with 60min delay and no one tells you why or say sorry. As a teenager I spent more than one December-night sleeping in a train station, when a sudden strike of the public transport stopped the whole country. I guess this made me more indulgent, especially when we are not talking about trains... Shall we add a touch of poetry to our common disapproval of delays? I'm sure you know that la donna e' mobile!

La donna e' mobile
Qual piuma al vento,
Muta d'accento — e di pensiero.
Sempre un amabile,
Leggiadro viso,
In pianto o in riso, — è menzognero.
È sempre misero
Chi a lei s'affida,
Chi le confida — mal cauto il cuore!
Pur mai non sentesi
Felice appieno
Chi su quel seno — non liba amore!

Woman is flighty
Like a feather in the wind,
She changes her voice — and her mind.
Always sweet,
Pretty face,
In tears or in laughter, — she is always lying.
Always miserable
Is he who trusts her,
He who confides in her — his unwary heart!
Yet one never feels
Fully happy
Who on that bosom — does not drink love!

robert_n wrote:OT:Forty-five minutes is too indulgent! Half an hour says the other party is not sufficiently interested to observe punctuality, actions over words. This goes for meetings of a non-romantic kind, too.

The miracle is not that Frederic waited for 45 minutes, but that she actually did show up after 45 minutes! Seeing her drunk, too, was definitely worth the wait!

No moustache here, just a short beard that I'm not consistent enough in trimming regularly, plus it always comes out asymmetrical when I shave my cheeks. When I have a haircut, the barber always looks at me pitifully and kindly suggests: "Beard, too?". But while one can get away with a beard slightly gone wild, a moustache is such a prominent feature under one's nose that it can hardly pass unnoticed, particularly if unkept!

One certainly has to be very confident about a moustache appearance as in all other distinctive stylish statements that will catch the eye , his eye primarily . Although I come from a country were people still practice the art of a well balanced moustache , there are still certain locations in Crete and the south western Peloponnesus where you would rarely come across a man without one . In fact people will disapprove of a local not having a moustache ... I come from the high mountains Arcadia where this cultural inheritance is not as rigid . I once tried to grow a nice looking moustache in my eyes at least , I shaved a well kept two week beard and went down town to pick up my girlfriend from work . Stop at my local kiosk where I always buy my papers and occasionally my cigars .. The owner Sotiris knows my routine , he looked at me straight in the eye and said " You still have time to before she is off ..." I said " time for what " ? He than turned around and picked a couple of my favorite cigars saying ..." just don't say I didn't warn you " .

Costi wrote:When I have a haircut, the barber always looks at me pitifully and kindly suggests: "Beard, too?"

yialabis wrote:[...] Sotiris knows my routine , he looked at me straight in the eye and said " You still have time to before she is off ..." I said " time for what " ? He than turned around and picked a couple of my favorite cigars saying ..." just don't say I didn't warn you "

Thank you Costi, thank you Vassilis, for sharing your experience and also for making me smile.

I realised that people just need some time to get used to a moustache and, when I shaved off an 'important' one, I found out that they had quickly developed some sort of 'affection' for it.

Moustaches adorn some of my dearest memories. My father had one; my piano teacher, one of the most influential people in my life, had a notable one. In the village where I grew up there was a very old man, so old and respected by even the oldest people that you could tell there was an aura of sacredness around him. His huge, white moustache was talking to us kids of an incredible past. Speaking not in Italian but in the local dialect, he always had stories, like the one about the old fish who gave one of his scales, made of gold, to the child.

Ha ha, I am also familiar with that country of appalling punctuality (subject to latitude) and stunning women. La botte piena o la moglie ubriaca?

The above was for Frederic Leighton.