I’m trying to catch up with last week’s New Yorker before the new one arrives, and in the middle of Nick Paumgarten’s “Life Is Rescues” (a fascinating piece that I recommend, especially if you’re into tales of icy peril) I hit this sentence: “The youngest was twenty-three: Halli, a gentle bear of a man with a big Brooklyn beard, who’d joined up because of the cars.” Now, I’m familiar with both Brooklyn and beards, but the phrase meant nothing to me. So I googled, and got nothing relevant except — aha! — “The Brooklyn Beard Goes Mainstream,” a New York Times piece from January 2014 that — alas — turns out to reference beards as a Brooklyn phenomenon (“Beards, as common as ever on the streets of Brooklyn, have shed their underground connotations”) but not a particular Brooklyn style. An image search shows a wild variety of beards, from barely visible fuzz to some truly striking specimens. So what I want to know is, does the phrase “Brooklyn beard” mean anything specific to you? For extra credit: if it turns out not to mean anything in particular, what has happened to editing standards at the New Yorker?