It must be the pheromones exuded by oily skin.
That, plus a simplicity of intellect.
Large bosomed women appreciate all that. Much more than they could possibly ever value the inherent subtlety and wit of men who smoke fine Virginias or Medium Latakia Mixtures in their pipes. Which is all far too impossibly finicky and complicated for women of huge bazoomb and unexercised mind.
Four days a week I come in contact with cigars during the course of the working day. It is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is high-quality tobacco, the curse is the armpit-scratching cavemen of Marin.
As well as the bazoombacious monsters for whom they fall.
Okay, now that I've got the obligatory sneering and insulting of stogie-chompers out of the way .....
Even though I am a pipe smoker, I actually like cigars. I can't help it.
I grew up in a town which at one point had over two dozen cigar factories (Valkenswaard), although by the latter part of the twentieth century the number had been reduced to two (Hofnar and Willem II), then one. When I last visited, Hofnar was long gone, and the once brand-new office building of Willem II was being torn down.
Eindhoven, the nearest metropolis (yes, that's what it seemed like at the time), had been "The City That Smokes" ('La Ville Fumée') well before old Fritz established his light-bulb factory there.
Cigars are part of a balanced life.
More germane to this essay, however, are all the elegant ladies and lovely women who smoke cigars.
At the present time I know of several, including 'The World's Cutest Cigar Smoker', who really should copyright that nickname.
It speaks of a strong mind when a woman knows her cigars, and has discriminating taste in that area. Stubbornness, yes, but tempered by confidence and sound intelligence.
Such a person is not easily swayed by common praeconceptions, and chooses to ignore the unknowing judgementalism of the herd.
In Valkenswaard there were quite a few women who liked cigars -- not all of them limited themselves to the local product; some of them had a fondness for Cubans -- and most of these exemplary persons had an independent streak that was praiseworthy indeed.
One of them had smuggled guns and ammo during the war, and lots of other things in the years since. Another was a notoriously toughminded and capable local politician, whom one would rather not cross.
A third was a schoolteacher, very inspiring!
And so on. You get the idea.
The perfect cigar for a woman is, probably, a robusto (one of the most popular shapes in America), or a toro. Either Nicaraguan tobacco from Esteli and Jalapa, or something in the Arturo Fuente range.
Padrons, Perdomos, Olivas.
Nothing small and effete. Nor a big whomping Salomon or gordo that screams "I have a very tiny penis". The 6x60 and the 7x70 are, of course, quite ridiculous. The cigar-smoking woman need not prove her manhood, and should naturally sneer at the problem cases who do.
Smokers of enormous cigars have issues.
And are probably very small.
Almost all are men.
Wee men.
I actually prefer a toro, because the pointy end makes it easier for me to hold it in my mouth while working, whereas some other vitolas cause unfortunate drooling, rather like a slobbery blood hound.
Perfectos too. The perfecto is a classic shape.
Many of the finest brands do a perfecto.
Including Dutch companies.
The World's Cutest Cigar Smoker prefers something between five and seven inches. Remember that. It's an important bit of information.
The best things in life come in likable dimensions.
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