THE HETFIELD AND ME

I have recently modified my facial hair in a small but decisive way. I've had a goatee for years - about 15 years, in fact. At some point about a half-dozen years ago, maybe a little less, I grew an accompanying mustache. I believe this combination is called a "Vandyke." Well, a month or two ago, I decided that with the warm weather coming soon (yeah, right - it just arrived this week) it was time for another change. So I shaved out the middle part of the goatee, leaving me with a mustache that goes clear down to my chin. Apparently, this look is known as the "Hetfield."



Yes, it's a look probably most familiar to frequent viewers of COPS. And for a week or two, I didn't see anybody else sporting it on the streets of Manhattan. But in the last couple of days, I've seen quite a few Hetfields on my way to and from work. This probably surprises me more than it should - metal's back, after all, and the Hetfield is the most metal of all facial-hair options. (Those long-ass braided/dyed/beaded goatees that came post-grunge were just horrifying, and I'm glad they're mostly gone - the only prominent headbanger still sporting one is the bassist from System Of A Down, and his fashion sense is not to be trusted, since his race, the Armenians, gave the world the tracksuit-and-dress-shoes combo.) So I feel like my Hetfield makes me part of something larger than myself. Which is one of the great things about the brotherhood of metal. Plus, my wife digs it. So I guess it's here to stay, for awhile anyhow.