ALLURE

One might think that a woman smoking a cigar is rather unusual. Or an image that for some strange reason best not explored appeals to certain men. Even, if one is familiar with National Geographic Magazine, something that best exemplifies the strangeness of foreign places not inhabited by droves of straightlaced disapproving Protestants.

How much more so a pipe.

Now, personally, I think of the pipe shown above as being ultra-feminine.

And that should illustrate that there is nothing inherently masculine or feminine about pipes (or cigars), because the physiology of taste does not differ between the genders.

Though I know a fairly large number of women who enjoy cigars, there are fewer who take pleasure in a pipe, despite the inherent aesthetic appeal of fine briars, the tactile pleasure, or the broader spectrum of tastes. Which is probably because appreciating a pipe is more involved and requires a greater commitment and investment of time and emotion than a cigar. Cigars can be approached lightly, and can be smoked and set aside discreetly as time and social environment permit, much like cigarettes. A pipe is, perhaps, a lifestyle choice.
As well as in some ways a rejection of the norm.


When you are smoking a pipe you need your own time. Whether you accompany it with tea or perhaps a book -- studying for an important test or just delving into the twisted peculiarities of James Joyce, for instance -- whereas cigars and cigarettes speak of idle chit-chat and alcoholic beverages. Or seem to do so. Several of the women cigar smokers of my ken are quite social. Few of the pipe smokers are.

So you will understand that I am looking forward to the next meeting of our local pipe club with a little trepidation, primarily because of the socializing required, secondarily due to the kitten-herding nature of such an event, and tertiarily for reasons which have to with a rejection of other people's tastes and opinions about pipe tobacco and shapes or dimensions.

The pipes and tobaccos which appeal to one person may not strike others the same.
Consequently the idea of talking about them is a bit pointless.
We are not seeking approval or converts.

It's an individual thing.




The pipe in the picture is something I purchased casually years ago at Marty's shop on Battery Street. Didn't smoke it till quite a while afterward, when I opened the last tin of Bengal Slices. That was a lovely time. Matured tobacco in the perfect bowl. Sunlight, and calmness. It bridges the years in Berkeley (same tobacco, decades earlier), reading Ulysses (better when drinking Irish whiskey), the company of old friends whom I haven't seen in years (Pauline in particular, we drifted apart and lost contact; one of her pipes has a similar shape and is from the same estimable company), and the final years of the toy company (eventually sold to a bunch of Canadians). An engineer who moved to Texas, and a tax accountant now living in Boston.
Plus a harbour porpoise who got married and fell off the planet.


One of the cutest women I know smokes cigars.
But one of the smartest preferred pipes.

TOBACCO INDEX


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