IF PUSHED to rank the big players in the 20th century, I begin saying to a mildly curious Tom Selleck, he’d probably be right at the top. Then a few unspeakable dictators like Saddam Hussein, then a big gap. Or maybe them first.
Tom, leaning in close, raises an eyebrow and laughs.
“Well, mine’s different from theirs, thank God. But what about Burt Reynolds? It was very fashionable in the ’60s.
Burt is – was – a friend. I didn’t grow it cos of Burt, but I think he thought I did.”
We are, of course, talking about moustaches. Specifically, iconic moustache-wearers. And have been for a good five minutes. If you spend any meaningful time in the company of Tom Selleck, then eventually, inevitably, you will bristle against the subject.
He’s joked that he and his moustache are actually separate stars – that he’s not a diva, but the ’tache can be; that he’d never run for office, but he can’t speak for the ambitions of his upper-lip furniture – yet we know this isn’t true. Because if you think of moustaches, you think of Tom Selleck.
He’s acted without it many times, but the major roles associated with his name, from Magnum P.I. to Three Men and a Baby, Quigley Down Under to the suave Dr Richard in Friends, have one striking, hirsute thing in common.
“Yeah, I know,” he concedes. “It just got to the point where I’d go on a talk show and they’d say, ‘Now Tom, we have a surprise – act shocked but at a certain point, everybody in the audience is going to put on a moustache!’ And I’d have to say,
