Some of us at Kempt have beards. Some full-time, some part-time. But frankly, we’re not beard fetishists. We don’t own closets dedicated to care products. We don’t even use them most of the time. To us, it goes against the real spirit of beard-having (the one that came after having them for warmth) to get too precious about it. If you’re spending time in public wondering whether your beard looks a little dry or if there’s a stray hair or two, you’ve missed the point.
That said, we don’t endorse the feral beast look either, and we’re not about to deny you knowledge that could be vital to your grooming future. So, in the name of science, Kempt is going on a multi-month journey of pileous discovery through the most bearded months of the year.
We’re going to try every oil, cream, comb, wax and potential laser wand we can get our hands on, and let you know how each is working out, so they can then, in turn, work out for you.
All right, so I didn’t really “lose” my beard. I shaved it off using a beard trimmer, too many disposable razors and a despicable amount of shower water. Also, a shaving gel infused with something called “Australian quandong fruit,” but I digress.
Every Wednesday from here on out, we’re giving you a piece of our minds. Actually, more like five pieces. It’s a chance to get a deeper look into what makes the minds behind Kempt tick—you know, beyond the usual Internet handsomeness we’re serving up daily. So welcome to our most personal weekly feature: The Kempt Five.
In fact, we’d like to applaud their commitment to letting themselves go. Take a moment to peer into Brent Burns’s thicket of tangled wilderness. It’s at the same time magnificent and horrifying—the man looks like he’s spent the entire off-season running with a pack of wolves. It’s an impressive feat, seeing as hockey players are already considered some of the gruffest athletes out there.
We’ll assume you either ended last night enjoying the sweet taste of victory, or in kind of a weird place... You also might’ve caught the presidential election.
We came away from the whole thing longing for the days of yore, when this great nation was ruled by men as grizzled as their jawlines.
Not since the likes of Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, a fellow by the name of Honest Abe and just about every US president in the second half of the 19th century have we had a president with some sort of facial follicle to pensively stroke while guiding this fair land. Back then it was more unusual to run for president and not have a crazy-ass beard.
Moving Dirt: The Selvedge Yard digs up a 1971 Sports Illustrated story on Steve McQueen and his dirt-biking alter ego Harvey Mushman. [TSY]
RIP, Steve Sabol: Remembering the late NFL Films president. NFL Crunch Course was a game changer. [Deadspin]
Uneasy Money: The question at the core of Facebook’s future success: Can it possibly build a business model that isn’t inherently creepy? [The Atlantic]
Getting Beard: In case you weren’t aware, the European Beard and Mustache Championship happened this past weekend. Luckily The Telegraph was on hand to photograph it in all of its bristly glory. [Telegraph]
Apparently, the Fed has its own in-house barber, a well-appointed chap named Lenny Gilleo who claims Bernanke follows the same playbook as most of the bearded gentlemen we know: a trim and shaping every three or four weeks, and a lot of off-handed stroking in the interim. More interesting is that the barber only charges whatever Mr. Bernanke feels like paying.
In other words, when the beard wants you to do something, you do it. Well played, Ben.