A word about stubble

This will, hopefully, be quick. I have work to do.

The Toronto office and I have a fundamental disagreement about stubble. Male, facial stubble, that is. Or, to be more exact, designer stubble.

See, I don't mind if a guy is on holiday or something like that and chooses not to shave for a couple of days. That's fine. No problem. I do mind, however, if it's obvious that a man is carefully grooming the I'm Too Busy (or Careless, or Cool) to Shave look.

I'm sorry, but if you're walking around with a constant three-day beard, you're working hard at it.

I know that it's a little different for television characters -- you have to have some costume consistency -- but even there, I'd like to take three quarters of the fashionably scruffy men on t.v. and introduce them and their stylists to the concept of razors.

There's a reason for this slightly hostile attitude, you know.

The Eighties.

Specifically, the fact that in the Eighties (when I was regularly dating) (and yes, I am that old) (and shut up) too many men were walking around trying to rock the whole Miami Vice look.

Ugh.

I wasn't a particularly busy dater, but even at that I went out with far too many men sporting stubble, pastel blazers, and no socks.

We do not need to return to that, people.

Besides...

Do you scruffy men realise how frigging uncomfortable it is to snuggle up to you?...





Ok, maybe a little too much information there. Anyway, that's my opinion and I'm sticking to it. I won't be blathering tomorrow since the weather's not my friend at the moment. The Toronto office is quite welcome to post a rebuttal in the meantime, but I'll see you later.