The Sharp End: The pleasure of a cigar


The last time I had a cigar I was drunk and having a lively exchange of opinions with a policeman. Perhaps as a result of this experience, or maybe because I’m trying to follow a health regime that doesn’t include throat cancer, I have avoided smoking cigars during my adult life.
And yet, what kind of lifestyle column do we have if we never get to discuss the pleasure, the culture, the rigmarole, the exclusivity, and the fantasy that accompanies the world of cigars? Can it be that The Sharp End can have nothing to say about the world of Coronas, Churchills, and Torpedoes?
And so here goes.

‘A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke’

Kipling’s line is the inevitable place to start and is now thought to be unacceptably sexist. However, if you read the whole poem, Britain’s first Nobel Laureate for Literature was offering up a wry satire on young love, inspired by a real divorce suit brought by a new wife over her husband’s cigar habit. It could be a modern City headline, although the case that inspired the poem took place in 1885.
Kipling implied cigars were a peculiarly male pleasure, but plenty of women enjoy and smoke cigars, and not just in reworkings of Bizet’s opera ‘Carmen’.
I have a vivid recollection of being in an informal late night meeting on the balcony of an Amsterdam hotel where it became apparent that nearby was a monthly rendezvous of an Amsterdam ladies’ cigar club.These were not ordinary women but the female scions of the city’s leading families who added some music to their smoky evening by hiring a soprano to sing excerpts from ‘Carmen’.
There came a point in the music when men were necessary in a sexual way – and we, poor fellows, were the only men available. Our cover was blown: La Diva sauntered across with a massive smouldering cigar, she sat on my lap and sang:

‘One man talks well, the other’s mum.

It’s the other one that I prefer.

He’s silent but I like his looks.’

Yowzer! We nearly forgot whose round it was.

But this is all too heady and sensual. My favourite cigar places are the little plastic tents erected outside hotels on Sylt – a windswept island in northern Germany favoured by German finance minister Wolfgang Schäuble and other members of the German elite with a love of fresh air. To be honest, there is nothing to do on Sylt except eat, drink and smoke, but if I needed a retreat to write a book then this would be the wind-blasted, flat landscape I would hide myself in while I hammered at the keyboard.


Sylt has the wildness and angst necessary for great literature, but at the end of each tortuous typewriter day you can drink any vintage of Cheval Blanc that takes your fancy and then find a comfortable place for a smoke in one of the tents. It’s a rare place for the perfect, delicate and knowing ritual of the cigar, a ritual beautifully described by Kipling as:


‘Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes

Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close’

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