It was the Christmas season, some time in the 90s, and, as he was on holiday, he decided to shave it off. As he'd been moustachioed when I met him this was going to be the first time ever for me to see him clean-shaven.
I hated it, made him grow it back and have fought strenuously against his frequent suggestions that he should shave it off again. (He thinks he looks younger without.)
When I was searching just now for the quote, 'Kissing a man without a moustache is like eating an egg without salt,' I discovered that back in 2006 I blogged about Husband and his moustache. It seems the original quote is often wrongly attributed to Rudyard Kipling but most sources suggest it's an old Spanish proverb. Mr Kipling wrote a variation on it (allegedly) when he said, 'Kissing a man who doesn't wax his moustache is like eating an egg without salt.'
The rest of what I wrote in 2006 is here:
Guy de Maupassant describes it thus in The Mustache.
... he has shaved off his mustache. You cannot imagine, my dear Lucy, how it changes him! I no longer recognize him-by day or at night. If he did not let it grow again I think I should no longer love him; he looks so horrid like this.
In fact, a man without a mustache is no longer a man. I do not care much for a beard; it almost always makes a man look untidy. But a mustache, oh, a mustache is indispensable to a manly face. No, you would never believe how these little hair bristles on the upper lip are a relief to the eye and good in other ways. I have thought over the matter a great deal but hardly dare to write my thoughts. Words look so different on paper and the subject is so difficult, so delicate, so dangerous that it requires infinite skill to tackle it.
Well, when my husband appeared, shaven, I understood at once that I never could fall in love with a strolling actor nor a preacher, even if it were Father Didon, the most charming of all! Later when I was alone with him (my husband) it was worse still. Oh, my dear Lucy, never let yourself be kissed by a man without a mustache; their kisses have no flavor, none whatever! They no longer have the charm, the mellowness and the snap- yes, the snap--of a real kiss. The mustache is the spice.
Imagine placing to your lips a piece of dry--or moist--parchment. That is the kiss of the man without a mustache. It is not worth while.
Whence comes this charm of the mustache, will you tell me? Do I know myself? It tickles your face, you feel it approaching your mouth and it sends a little shiver through you down to the tips of your toes.
And on your neck! Have you ever felt a mustache on your neck? It intoxicates you, makes you feel creepy, goes to the tips of your fingers. You wriggle, shake your shoulders, toss back your head. You wish to get away and at the same time to remain there; it is delightful, but irritating. But how good it is!
A lip without a mustache is like a body without clothing; and one must wear clothes, very few, if you like, but still some clothing.
