Time To Settle Accounts
January 25, 2012: A masterpiece.
I stepped into Santullo’s for a lunch slice, and there it was: The coolest mustache I have ever seen.
The coolest mustache I’ve ever seen was light blonde, bushy above the lip, with ends that extended below the chin and grew sharp and more individualized the lower they went, until each strand near the chin was a single blade of pointed hair. It had the look of a fan-style drum brush that jazz drummers use. Each protruding strand had the consistency of a dangerous toothpick, like something out of a particularly vicious Swiss Army Knife. I ordered my slice and then resumed staring at the mustache. Finally, I addressed its facial agriculturalist:
“Excuse me, but that is the coolest mustache I have ever seen.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking at me wondering if that was the end of the discussion or the beginning.
“Really,” I said, gushing like a fanboy, “just really great work.”
I chose a booth where I could study him further without being invasive. His back was to me, but I could see the tips of his mustache beyond his cheekbones. I pulled out my phone to take a picture, but couldn’t get close enough without disturbing him. I then nearly asked if he would turn around so I could get a picture, and then decided against it…
…but when he and his friend stood to leave, I could not contain my curiosity. “Sorry, but I have to ask you: how do you get it so pointy like that?”
“Flat iron in the morning,” he said. “I’ve been twisting it out for three years. This is me being lazy. Today’s my day off and I didn’t feel like getting out the hot wax.”
“Wow,” I said with big eyes. “Flat iron and wax.”
“Yep,” he said on his way to the door, “all it takes.”
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