I’ve grown a beard. It was accidental to begin with. Like, I just couldn’t be arsed to trim it for a few weeks, then there it was, and here it is. Because I’m working in Shoreditch, it kind of feels right, but if I wasn’t, would it be right to feel so wrong?

In a way I’ve taken to it pretty smoothly (and who knew #beardsofinstagram would be such a popular search term?), but is it me? Having a bit of stubble was kind of smart, so growing an extra centimetre or so isn’t such a bad thing. I guess the real question is: does it matter?
  • It’s reduced the amount of time I spend in the bathroom.
  • It’s a nice place to store food for later (jokes! (kinda)).
  • No one looks at me any differently, though friends I haven’t seen in the last few weeks usually comment and stroke my face…
So why am I writing about it now?
I’m 27, that’s why. I’ve realised recently that we can do whatever the hell we like in our 20s: we’re exploring, we’re looking to find the life that fits, and unlike our parents’ generation, we’ve got no real limits to taking the time we want to discover the life we want. It’s easier to travel, there’s less pressure to settle down, and if we grow beards and don’t like them afterall, we can just shave them off.
I’m cool with friends stroking my face for a bit longer, so I’ll keep the beard today (besides, Tom Hardy and Henry Cavill are going pretty hard for theirs, so if the shoe fits…). What I’m saying is: let my beard be your inspiration to do whatever the fuck you want to do today or tomorrow – when you’ve got ties, make them be your reason to start being a bit more sensible.
Doing anything that doesn’t fit the mould right now? Share the stories of your 20s using #ThisIsOur20s on Twitter @FlavourMag
By David Cummins