When I lived in New York I sported, according to the times, rather longish hair.
At one point I also sported a rakish goatee---I have one now, but it is neither rakish nor new, merely hiding sagging chin and wrinkles--and so, when once I was negotiating for some wonderful plates of costumes in a small and out-of-the-way bookstore in the east village, the woman I was dealing with stopped short, looked at me and let out a yell, screaming:
Herman, will you come here, right now. This guy looks just like Jesus Christ.
I got my plates.
And she got the thrill of seeing someone she thought looked like J.C.
A win win situation.