A Beard Worth a Medal
A silver beard that falls past his belt, a flat cap, two sleeves of ink and a yellow fire hydrant for a throne — a uniform shoot with our friend @trickybeardac, third in the world for Partial Beard Freestyle.
When we asked if he would wear the BBrthr uniform for a day, he said yes before we had finished the question. That is the kind of friend he is. He is also, it turns out, one of the most decorated beards on the planet: @trickybeardac took 3rd in the world in Partial Beard Freestyle — and 1st in the USA and 1st in the UK in the same category. You can hear the competition in those numbers. Standing next to him on a quiet street, you mostly hear him laughing.
We started against a car-park gate, all bars and warning signs, the morning sun hard and white. He stood still and let the beard do what it does — catch the light, move in the breeze, take up exactly as much space as it wants.
Then the stairs. He sat with his elbows on his knees and a hand drifting to his beard, the way a guitarist touches his strings without thinking. A beard like this isn’t grown. It’s kept, combed, shaped and carried, year after year.
From behind, the white tee told its own story: a tiger and a serpent locked together across his back. He looked over his shoulder and grinned, as if he knew exactly how good it looked.
Black tee next, The Beard Brotherhood in white script across the back. Against an iron fence, beard falling like a waterfall, he looked less like a model than a man who had walked out of a different century and decided to stay.
Somewhere in between, he talked about the competitions — the nerves, the friendships, the strangers who become brothers backstage. Champions, he said, are only as good as the people standing next to them.
The back of the shirt reads like a scoreboard of beard styles. On him, it read like a CV.
We finished on a yellow fire hydrant at the kerb, his throne for the afternoon. Feet planted, hands on his knees, beard on his chest, the city going about its business behind him. A world-class beard on an ordinary street. That is the whole idea.
He wouldn’t take anything for the day except a cold drink and a promise to send him the photos. Some friends you thank with words. Some you thank by showing the world what they look like in your colours.
