One could argue that my love of the mustache was prompted by the recent fad.  Or one could argue that my love of the ‘stache began with a fellow I dated with a handlebar mustache.  But I would like to suggest my love of the mustache began at a much earlier age- say birth.

Most of the men in my formative years all sported a sophisticated spread of facial hair.  For example:

My dad rocks a pretty impressive “cop stache” but in his hay day, it was a full on fu.

My grandfather rocks a pencil.  When he came out of his anesthesia induced coma after open heart surgery, his first words were colorful and all expressed his anger towards the nurses for shaving his mustache to insert the breathing tube. Nevermind that tube was what kept him alive!

My husband wore a fairly impressive handlebar and I grew a well groomed barbershop for our wedding.

Yes indeed. I do love a mustache.