smartgrrrl's guide to stuff

Next month will mark my five-year anniversary as a non-smoker. I’m happy to say that I don’t miss it at all — which surprised me at first, since all I’d ever heard from ex-smokers was how much they still craved cigarettes. Once, during one of the eleventy thousand times I tried to quit, someone who had successfully quit told me “not a day goes by that I don’t long for a cigarette. Not a day.” As you might imagine, this was less helpful than he might have intended. But once I decided that I’d had enough, that was it — I really had had enough.

I lied. There are times I miss it. Not enough to run out and spend $12 on a pack of smokes. (I remain ever curious about the cost of cigarettes both in and out of New York.) What usually drove me back to smoking was watching someone else enjoy it. That doesn’t make me crave a cigarette anymore, except when I’m watching Mad Men. It’s not even that everyone on that show smokes, it’s that they make it look so damn GOOD. Occasionally you’ll see Don reach for a stress cigarette, but mostly the actors on the show make it seem natural, like breathing. And it looks like they all truly ENJOY it.

And I think I know why. They had accessories.

I’ve had this collection stashed away in a dresser drawer for a while and rediscovered it as I was cleaning it out to get it ready to move (I’m not moving, just the dresser is). Most of it belonged to my grandmother, who I believe started smoking at a very early age (if I’m wrong, I’m sure my mother will correct me in the comments) and didn’t quit until her 70s. The case was made in Italy and holds less than 10 cigarettes, which I associate with ladylike behavior. Ladies didn’t chain smoke. There would be no reason for ladies to keep more than 10 cigarettes in a case at a time.

What kills me, however, is the small oval box with a cigarette on its lid. I remember finding this at my grandparents’ house and asking whether it was a pillbox. (Why would a pillbox have a picture of a cigarette on it? I don’t know. But cigarette advertising used to promote the health benefits of smoking. People were crazy.)

It’s not a pillbox. It’s an ashtray. A portable, fits-in-your-clutch ashtray for the lady smoker on the go. There’s even a tab on the inside on which to rest a cigarette. It’s fabulous. Oh, yes: I used this.

(Wouldn’t it be great if smokers had these again? No more sidewalks littered with butts!)

The lighter belonged to my grandfather, who quit smoking long before I was born. The lighter doesn’t work, but it’s a gorgeous art deco-y piece, engraved with his name on one side and initials on the other.

Equally gorgeous is my grandmother’s cigarette holder. I think it’s ivory, which makes me a little uncomfortable since an elephant was probably slaughtered in order to make it, so to make amends for how much I love it I will donate money to the World Wildlife Fund. But I do love it. I love that it has its own case. And the rose design is so elegant.

This I did use. And you know, I did feel more elegant and glamourous, as though I should have been wearing elbow-length gloves and had my hair piled in curls on top of my head.

(OK, I might have worn elbow-length gloves while smoking a cigarette in the holder. And also pearls. When I was in graduate school. Possibly while grading papers.)

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