Out of the woods, here he comes: the lumbersexual
Though
big of beard and clad in plaid, the latest male fashion hero has probably never
been near a sawmill. But that doesn’t make him a fake
Holly Baxter
theguardian.com, Friday 14 November 2014 / http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/nov/14/lumbersexual-beard-plaid-male-fashion
Just when we all thought we’d reached peak
beard, a surprising development has happened in the fascinating world of male
grooming. Yes, you guessed it (you probably didn’t guess it) – the lumbersexual
is here, with his beard, plaid shirt, backpack and artfully scruffy hair barely
contained by his sensible woollen hat.
He’s your Tinder date, sipping craft beer
at an underground bar with his sad eyes and permanently unrealised dream of
living in an isolated woodland shack. He’s your new boyfriend, who used to
share a four-cheese pizza with you in bed after a long day, and who now looks
like an extra who wandered out of the forest in Game of Thrones. Hell, he could
even be the groom on your hipster wedding day.
We may have only just been given a great
new portmanteau term for the type, but the lumbersexual has been here for a
while. I know more than one urban-dwelling man who has suddenly acquired some
sort of rurally themed weaponry in the last six months (axes, bows and arrows,
tiny knives that they use to open beer cans at parties). And I’ve noticed that
if you walk around certain areas for long enough, the proliferation of plaid
(on plaid on plaid) will eventually make you feel as though you are living your
life inside an optical illusion.
But the question on everybody’s lips, as
with most new trends, is: guys, is this OK? Is it fine for my friend to adorn
his walls with old bear traps he bought on eBay when he had to give up carving
the Christmas turkey last year because it “looked too real”? Is there a problem
with wrapping yourself up in a heavy duty woodsman’s jacket for your minimally hazardous
commute from Peckham to the Apple store Genius Bar?
Is there something fundamentally wrong with
calling yourself rugged when you actually spent 20 minutes of your morning
delicately trimming your beard in the bathroom mirror? Or should we cut these
guys some slack (preferably using a vintage hatchet from Colorado ?)
Although I personally have spent too many
dates fearing that the froth from the latest craft beer will get stuck in my
lumbersexual admirer’s facial hair and make it look like a sponge, I find
myself cautiously defensive of the trend. Posers they may be, but surely
lumbersexuals don’t seriously think we believe that their pulled pork sandwiches
are made from wild boar they slew in the communal garden behind their high-rise
apartments. Instead, this so-called reaction to the unashamedly feminine
metrosexual seems to me all about playing with gender stereotypes.
I like the poseur who sits beside me at a
nauseatingly hip cafe with his cold brew, Barbour jacket and anchor tattoos – I
can’t deny it. He isn’t telling me he’s anything but a freelance web designer
who can grow an impressively bushy moustache. He isn’t sitting at home, crying
over his laptop and wondering why he can’t just get out there and be a “real
man”. Instead, he’s playing with the concept of what masculinity looks like and
does. He is at the same time both aggressively attached to the traditionally
masculine look and completely removed from the lifestyle that it advertises.
Men are given a harder time than women when
they play with gender through style, since fashion still isn’t seen as their
rightful domain. The metrosexual threw caution to the wind and started carrying
his moisturiser round in his manbag; the lumbersexual now serves us up a hypermasculine
aesthetic with an unashamedly ironic grin.
Did the lumbersexual, as accused, steal his
look from the gay world of “bears” and “cubs”? It seems likely. As Tim Teeman
at the Daily Beast says, “First, straights came for the smooth, pretty gay look
… and now you have come for our hairier brethren.” Those who questioned
straight culture in the first place were always better at laughing at gender,
after all. Now that we can all share in the joy of metros, lumbersexuals and
the “metrojacks”(who fall in the middle – yes, really), I am all too happy to
laugh along.
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