I wrote a story for Bloomberg Pursuits about men crossing the final frontier and growing a quarantine mustache. The mustache is intriguing because it so closely treads the line of bad taste. When it’s good it can be distinguished, singular, even aristocratic. Just as often, however, it exposes a man’s lack of self-awareness, vanity and the misjudgment of his inner child.

Regardless, if a mustache is to be worn it should be from a position of strength. It should be confident and convey a sense of permanence. Experimentation is frowned upon because it opens the wearer to a frontal assault from disapproving loved ones who will promote the facile virtues of shaving and cut short potential mustache glory.

Yes, that’s why they grow in private, like a revolution. The idea of a mustache is too powerful to be conferred in stages. It can’t bear the burden of a trial run or amateur rehearsals. It either arrives in public fully resolved, like a sensational debut novel, or it retreats into darkness, obscure and quickly forgotten.

That’s another reason the mustache is so hard. We rarely give ourselves enough time to find the shape, genre and density that makes the most sense for each us. It depends on your face, of course, and your worldview, but it also has a lot to do with your hair cut. The fact that many of us haven’t seen our barber in months complicates matters. I envisioned a refined Charles Ryder mustache straight from Brideshead Revisited (currently available from Amazon Prime). The anglo-stache I was reminded requires short hair. With my mane it’s more like a bad bullpen pitcher from the 80s. But fear not, in isolation there’s still time bad decisions to be rectified. Hope to see you on the other side with something to show for it!