It was 1907 and a seemingly normal April evening in a Paris café – until 6.30 pm…
Mid-service, the waiters simply stopped. They put down their trays, threw off their aprons and marched out the door.
The room fell silent as the hungry and abandoned customers watched them leave. Then the restaurant owners began shouting and chasing after their departing staff. What in the world was going on?
It was a strike. The waiters were refusing to work until their demands were met. And what were those demands? Well, some were what you would expect: higher wages, a bit of time off… But then there was one more that was dear to their hearts and completely non-negotiable – the right to wear a mustache.
“We won’t return without our mustaches” they shouted as they left.
A Mustache Matters
That’s right, French men took their mustaches very seriously in 1907. It wasn’t just fashion, it was a status symbol. It said: masculinity, authority, social standing.
Soldiers and policemen wore them as symbols of authority. Middle and upper-class men cultivated them as marks of respectability and masculinity. A well-groomed, hairy upper lip signaled that you were someone who gave orders, not someone who took them.
However, the lower classes of men, who often worked in service, were required to shave. For servants in wealthy households, a smooth upper lip was part of the uniform. And that rule extended to restaurant waiters, who were seen as part of the serving class.
Since the Revolution in 1789, everyone in France was supposed to be equal (at least the men). But forbidding mustaches was visible proof that the class system was still very much alive. And for many men, being forced to shave was a humiliating statement to the world that they were low class or servants. Or even worse – less than men.
As Guy de Maupassant wrote a few decades earlier:
“In fact, a man without a mustache is no longer a man. … a mustache, oh, a mustache is indispensable to a manly face.”
What Did the Women Think?
According to at least one newspaper, many wives of the waiters were firmly on the side of fuzzy upper lips. One report dramatically claimed that “the women have decided they would rather starve with their children than to see their husband’s mustaches continue to fall under the razor.”
I’m sure that was a bit of journalistic exaggeration, but others also seemed to think that French women liked their men in mustaches. In a short story by Maupassant, one woman writes to her friend:
“Oh, my dear Lucie, never let yourself be kissed by a man without a moustache; their kisses have no flavor… The moustache is the spice.
(Well, I guess that depends on what he has been eating.)
Call the Police
For the police (who, of course, wore mustaches), the strike was a public‑order problem. Striking waiters gathered outside restaurants and sometimes took up tables inside to harass and intimidate those who were still waiting tables.
Gendarmes were sent to limit disruption, keep cafés open, and clear out the strikers. However, this led to an unfortunate bit of facial-hair profiling.
Officers attempted to separate respectable mustachioed customers from the smooth-faced troublemakers with a simple formula: Smooth Upper Lip = Striking Waiter.
Unfortunately, many foreign visitors and some fashionable middle‑class Parisians also happened to be clean‑shaven – and they did not appreciate being roughly thrown out onto the street. In one incident, a dozen newly arrived American tourists were unceremoniously evicted along with the suspected strikers.
As it turned out, judging a man by his upper lip was not an exact science. Even though Guy de Maupassant thought it was an easy task:
“Immediately, yes, immediately, my dear, I recognized the Frenchmen by their moustaches!”
The Waiters Win: A Mustache Victory
The Mustache Strike didn’t last long. Some restaurant owners gave in quickly and their staff returned to work – proudly sporting their new “staches.” Then after about two weeks, the strike ended completely, and all the restaurants reopened.
The waiters had won. They got a bit more pay – but unfortunately, they did not win a day off. However, they had won the most important thing – they would have the right to wear their beloved mustaches.
As soon as they heard they could grow hair on their faces, they agreed to go back to work. Once again, they were carrying trays and wiping tables, but now they held their heads a bit higher. They felt like men again wearing their dignity on their upper lip.
As Edmond Rostand wrote in Cyrano de Bergerac:
“All words are witty when the moustache is fine.”
And it seems that in 1907 a fine mustache was definitely something worth striking for.
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