Suitable gentlemen (Read: Anyone in a tunic's all right by me.)

Now here are three outstanding young men, all clean shaven and well-appointed . . . Okay, okay two of them have a faint trace of facial hair, but it's really too thin to count. Overall, you can tell they're good kids; these guys are going places.

Two important rules for my daughter

This is a fateful, hardly bearable moment in the unwritten history of my life. Today was the first time that I fully crossed paths with the agonizing sacrifices one makes when he places the wellbeing of his child before his own hopes/dreams/desires.

The issue is shaving. My instinct for self-preservation regularly reminds me, in a shrill and insistent voice, that I should avoid shaving with every grain of willpower I can muster. Yet, I also don't think my daughter should trust men with suspicious facial hair (and ultimately, all facial hair is suspicious in one light or another) . . . so I stand face to face with a fraught, tangled decision. Do I impose such cruel strictures on my daily habits, or do I risk the life prospects of my own offspring by setting a bad example and getting her accustomed to unshaven men? Well, like any good parent who values discipline, I think it's best to go ahead and establish some ground rules for her:

1) Beware of all men with facial hair. Keep your distance. Do not speak to them. Their slothfulness is exceeded only by their wreckless disregard for human life. They cannot be trusted. Above all, do not love or respect men with facial hair. They are like feral cats. Every fiber of their Godless, hopeless depravity can be counted on their face.

Except for your father.

While I'm at it, why not throw in a bonus rule? (I'm exercising the inalienable parental right/responsibility to develop new, unprecedented rules on an ad hoc basis.)

2) You are not allowed to wear Ugg boots. They are a stain on modern society. My heart dies a little each time someone puts on a pair. In the history of mankind, few fashion designs have been so unflattering to the human form -- in that vein, Uggs are rivalled only by leisure suits, turtleneck sweaters, and coonskin caps. (Toupees just missed the cut). They are disgraceful. No one anywhere ever has looked at the abominable snowman's ankles and said "Ohh mon dieu that's a great look!"

I really don't intend to offend any of my Ugg-wearing readership by openly castigating the trend. But I've been wanting to say this for years -- I had to put up with it in London, with the Northeastern brats at Emory, and now with the UT freshmen. I was certain this meant it was on its way out, an inevitable pariah of the motley shoe sector, but then I read this blog where a mother said the following: “The other girls her age all wear Uggs. In fact, as far as I can see, every girl, of every age, everywhere, now wears Uggs.” I simply broke down in tears. The blog is here http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/12/extraordinary-people/, and if I can store up the energy, I have a whole 'nother reason to rant about the content of this post in particular. For now, let's all just hope that Uggs don't last another decade or so to usher my precious, sensible daughter into her pre-teen years.