The Death of the Moustache

As a young boy growing up in the 1980s I knew what made men and ladies different:

Men had moustaches.

My father had a moustache, my uncles had moustaches, my friends’ fathers had moustaches.

Television confirmed my assumptions about the fundamental difference between the sexes. Father Flump had a moustache, Dick Dastardly had a moustache, the Mayor of Trumpton had a moustache and Captain Pugwash had a moustache (and a little beard too). And these weren’t just any old characters. These were the alpha males, the main characters. It was apparent to me that if you wanted to be the head of the family or the mayor or to be captain of your own pirate ship you should have a moustache.

When I was five my teacher instructed me to draw a picture of my dad. I remember attempting to visualise him and the one thing I knew was he had a moustache. I couldn’t remember whether moustaches went under the nose or on the lips themselves and plumped for the latter. While this clearly demonstrated that biologically and artistically I was no prodigy, it indicates that the main male figure in my life was represented not by his job or his car or his ability to read me a story but by his moustache.

As I grew older I realised that moustaches did not grow on the lips but above them, and I was further convinced that men of status wore a moustache. Daley Thompson had a moustache, so did Ian Rush, Michael Fish, Mr Taylor the deputy headmaster, Des Lynam and Jesus.

Then came the epidemic.

Around about 1994, men stopped having moustaches. They became clean shaven or had goatee beards. They had designer stubble.

After approximately 150 years, moustaches were suddenly no longer in favour. In fact, it was more than that. In the mid-20th century the moustache was “no longer in favour”, but there were still proud and prominent representatives – Sir Anthony Eden, Terry Thomas, Joseph Stalin, David Niven and Charles de Gaulle to name but a few. In the 1990s the moustache was not just out of favour it was deeply, deeply unfashionable.

My friend’s father shaved his off. So did two of my uncles. John Aldridge grew a goatee. So did Gareth Hale. Kenny Sansom went clean shaven. So did Graham Gooch.

The trend has continued to this day. Once proud moustache-wearers like Ian Rush, Jeremy Bowen, Phil “The Power” Taylor, Eric Knowles, Mark Lawrenson, Peter Mandelson, Ruud Gullit, Nigel Mansell, Ringo Starr, Graeme Souness, John Kettley and Barry Chuckle have all sold out.

Nowadays to have a moustache is to be seen as eccentric, German, or homosexual (yet only one man in this volume is all three).

It is time for the renaissance of the moustache. To re-establish it as hirsute shorthand for manliness, dignity, style and authority.

Over the last few centuries moustaches have been worn by hundreds of famous, or infamous, men.

United by their choice of facial hair, these moustache wearers otherwise stretch across the entire spectrum of man. Some are great, some good, some bad, some, indeed, downright bastards. They span history and occupations. They comprise gunslingers and footballers, authors and wrestlers, artists and actors, politicians and murderers, scientists and potato-based toys.

Some of their moustaches are pugnacious, bristly affairs that warn potential muggers and loquacious Americans to stay back. Some are huge, unyielding brutes – demanding of their owner the kind of attention normally reserved for a show dog or vintage motor car. Some are dandified, curled, scented, waxed works of art. Some are meticulously sculpted, shaved and etched into the most delicate of lines. Some stretch across the face to tickle the ear lobes. Others droop beneath the chin. Some are simply grown, left unstyled, unshaped and only occasionally trimmed.

Some moustaches define the man – Jimmy Edwards, Michael Attree, Rollie Fingers or Sir Claude Macdonald. Some men define a moustache – Adolf Hitler, Salvador Dali, Fu Manchu or Friedrich Nietzsche.

It is time for more great men to grow moustaches. More importantly it is time for more men to grow great moustaches.

To play midwife to this renaissance I lay before you here, assembled for the first time, a catalogue of every* famous** man*** to have worn**** a***** moustache ever******.

I hope you see one you like.



* I may not have included every famous man. In my exhaustive research for this book I was frequently delighted by finding a new moustache. Should you be struck dumb by an eye-piercing omission please accept my apologies and notify me of my near-sightedness. But wait until I have reached the end otherwise I will bite you.

** Fame is of course, somewhat subjective. I have included Eugen Sandow, who for historians of bodybuilding is undoubtedly famous, yet have omitted David Battie, who is no doubt much-loved by viewers of the BBC’s Antiques Roadshow. Ultimately vagaries won the day. An interesting character, or a fantastic moustache was often the decisive factor.

*** Anatomists believe that Frida Kahlo was a woman.

**** A few men in this book do literally wear a moustache. The Tramp, the popular image of Charlie Chaplin, wore his moustache. Groucho Marx’s moustache is neither grown nor worn but painted. In a slightly different way so is the moustache of the gentleman who graces the Pringles tubes.

***** Some men have worn different styles of moustache in their life, or have worn a moustache throughout their life and seen its colour change. Wherever possible I have included the moustache worn at the height of their fame, or simply chosen what I consider to be an excellent example of a moustache.

****** Some men have worn a moustache but with such irregularity or for such a short time that I have considered them unworthy of inclusion. Examples include David Dunbar Buick, Bryan Ferry and Ian Beale off EastEnders.