Second only to skis, the lip caterpillar is your most essential piece of gear.
Mustaches have a long, wonderfully furry history. The word itself is derived from the Latin radus maximus hairus, which translates to “super duper rad hair on the handsome face of a gnar pup.” It’s a loose translation. Mouth brows have been ubiquitous since the cave dwellers, but they grew in fame in the 18th century amongst soldiers, artists, aristocrats and that guy at the wedding everyone loves because he’s just so fun.
The 1980s saw a furred boom of popularity when Mike Ditka led the Chicago Bears to glory and Tom Selleck set the bar for rugged good looks and solving crimes in Hawaii. But mustaches have always been regarded with the utmost esteem amongst the greatest subset of American counterculture: the ski bum. And thus, friends, here is your step-by-step guide on how to manage the rustic elegance of a fuzzy and frigid upper lip.
Step 1: Grow
Many a skier will complain that they “just can’t” grow a soup strainer. Malarkey! Winners find ways. While it’s true you’ll have to fight through weeks of disgustingly thin, patchy awkwardness, the bushy reward is worth the wait. Nothing worth a damn was ever easy or quick. You can speed up the growth process by applying a mixture of Miracle-Gro, Swix and Vaseline to your upper lip, and sleeping under a heat lamp.
Step 2: Don’t Eff-Wordin’ Touch It
In the early stages of growth, your burgeoning bristles will be allergic to scissors and clippers of any kind. Your face foliage needs time and space to blossom and bloom, like a jade vine or that Ariana Grande song that finally sounds good after the 27th listen. The only things that should touch your beak Velcro are food products and accolades. Schmear some ranch, chicken wing sauce and praise at your piliferous puss. Like a blowfish under pressure, compliments and condiments make mouth brooms puff up.
Step 3: Pick Your Style
Now that your upper lip has come to bear fruit, it’s time to pick out the style of your cookie duster. Errol Flynn and Clark Gable silver screen pencil thin mustache motifs and curly-q waxed numbers are not to be considered. While those staches worked during the golden age of Hollywood and are the face adornments of a monocle and neckerchief-wearing coffee snob hipster named Jasper, we skiers need thick, powder catching push brooms atop our pie holes. The Selleck, the Wyatt Earp, the GI Joe, these styles will all hang onto and hold snow. During the winter, your stache should be robust enough to catch gobs of snow, snot, sneezes, flirty looks-n-winks…hell, maybe even a pterodactyl or two. Remember, for skiers, the only thing more delicious than bottomless après tater tots drowned in ranch dressing is pounds of powder snow frozen to your face fur.
Step 4: Go Forth and Be Handsome
Now that you’re furry lip tackle is fully developed, it’s time to spread its charm and handsomeness about town. Prepare yourself and your stache to be asked to chop wood, recite Hemingway and Twain, karate chop fence posts, repair machinery, make the VCR stop blinking 12:00, give advice about tanning hides and salting meats, fight crime, open up a jar of pickles, give an approving but subtle nod regarding twister-spread-twister form, chink a log cabin, speak softy and carry a big stick, designate something as “bitchin’,” open mouth tongue kiss or anything of the like.
The ski town skid lip squirrel isn’t a glitter beard or a quinoa-kale-beret-skinny jeans-kombucha green smoothie or any other hipster fad. It is a call to a more gentlemanly time and character. Just like your decision to uproot your life and move to a mountain town so you could ski your ass off, mustaches are a life choice. Remember, friends: Every present deserves a bow. And a mustache is just a hair bow for your face. Grow that stache and get radical. You’re welcome world.