Movember rolled around today, but this year you probably won’t notice – almost every guy already has a moustache.

And as someone who lacks the mo-growing genetics such that any attempt leaves me looking like I’ve taped on a worn-out toilet brush, I have to admit I’ve got major mo-fomo.

There’s no doubt that the mullet-for-the-face, the lip-crawler, the flavour-saver, has staged a full-blown comeback, especially among the young folk.

Until recently, I’d always associated moustaches with bogans, hipsters, or people you’d suspect of being on some kind of watchlist.

But now they’re popping up like daisies on the broccoli-haired Zoomers and the now rapidly ageing ‘90s kids.

They’re the lowest-effort way for a bloke to level up his appearance, or ‘looksmaxx’, as the kids say.

To be honest, I’m surprised moustaches aren’t the default factory setting.

As to their re-emergence, I’ve got a few theories.

It could be because times are tough, and facial hair has been shown to correlate with increased trustworthiness and higher wages (although this is not financial advice).

The sportsmen could also be to blame (as usual). All the most revered players across Aussie sporting codes are sporting one.

Just look at Bailey Smith’s chevron, Reece Walsh’s pencil, or Mitchell Johnson’s horseshoe.

It can’t be a coincidence – sports stars started the tattoo-sleeve epidemic, resurrected the mullet, and now they’re making moustaches great again.

Speaking of the mullet, the mo could just be a natural evolution of the male Australian species.

If you have a mullet, it acts as a physical counterbalance that moderates its offensiveness – or at least should. Will Ashcroft, I’m looking at you mate.

With the mo now mainstream, you have to wonder what Movember even stands for anymore.

Movember, an Australian invention, looks to have become a victim of its own success. To stay relevant, it may need to merge with the World’s Greatest Shave or pivot to ‘Shave-uary’.

You’ll spot the soup strainers everywhere from Bondi run clubs to Fitzroy craft breweries.

All the iconic Australian professions, baristas, tradies, real estate agents have jumped on the mo-bandwagon.

The re-emergence of the mo appears to be a uniquely Australian phenomenon that’s even raising eyebrows among foreigners. Case in point: on that most rigorous of scientific resources, the ‘AskAnAustralian’ subreddit, a bewildered foreigner recently posted: ‘What is it with Aussie men and moustaches?’

The replies reminded me why I love this country.

One quipped, ‘You either grow a moustache or master the art of barbequing.’

Another said it’s simply, ‘The easiest way to let people know you’re a mad c—.’ Fair enough.

Maybe what’s really bothering me is that I’m genetically incapable of being part of the trend.

I’ve reached the age where fashion trends start coming back around.

I realised it earlier this year when I went to buy skinny jeans and couldn’t find any – apparently baggy is back too.

Maybe I’m just sounding a bit mo-phobic because seeing the return of the mo makes me feel ancient.

Then again, given the moustache is shown to make one look older, it’s probably for the best I stay clean-shaven.

At thirty, I’m practically over the hill now, and sunscreen isn’t proving enough to save my youthful look.

Maybe it’s time I reframe my mo-fomo into mo-jomo and embrace my minority status.

I can appreciate a good ’stache from afar, like living in the worst house on the best street, with the bonus of not having to maintain the lawn.

And perhaps now, being the only bloke without one, will make me a rare species: a clean-shaven contrarian in a sea of facial-hair mainstream conformity.

The real mark of manhood may not be the ability to grow a moustache, but the wisdom to accept you can’t, and the courage not to try.

Will Bennett is a freelance writer