I’m now nearing the end of a month-long stint sans Mr Beautyhaul as he freezes his you-know-whats off on location in the Peak District. Within two days I’d already infiltrated his wardrobe to nab his beloved bottlegreen H&M hoodie (that I am banned from wearing as I turn up the sleeves, apparently stretching the arms so he claims even though anyone who knows me will attest to the fact I have bird wrists). It took me a few days longer to spread magazines about the flat and start leaving the juicer parts unwashed in the sink until tea time. Slovenly ways people, slovenly ways. However, there’s another perk for me when he’s off on his little filming jaunts with his most perfunctory of wash bag contents. I get access to his unguarded bathroom stash. Mainly supplied by me, granted, but while the cat’s away the mouse will play with his Comme des Garcon Incense in Kyoto, Dax Super-Neat Wax and various Murdock London shaving unguents.
Which reminds me. It’s Movember. The time when you start noticing all sorts of burgeoning facial hair on otherwise conservative-looking male commuters. It’s also in support of a very worthy cause supporting prostate and testicular cancer charities. My granddad died of the former.
If you know someone taking part you might want to show them some gentle encouragement, and avoid total facial hair malfunction, with a trim-trip to one of Murdock’s London outposts (Monmouth Street, Libertys, Shoreditch and now at the Shop at Bluebird on Kings Rd) or for non-London dwelling folk, check out this short video tutorial on how to twizzle your moustache like a regal Rajasthani gent (of course, the spiritual home of the statement moustache).