I'm glad you noticed that there is a difference! Personally, it makes a big difference to me what a girl smokes. For example, pot, cloves and cigars are a major turn-off for me; and I don't like the smell. Similarly, you can tell a lot about the girl by the brand which she CHOOSES to smoke! I would never be attracted to the kind of girl who would smoke any brown colored cigarette, like More. Among the remaining filtered brands, I have no preference, but enjoy the variety. You will not find the same girl smoking Virginia Slims and Marlboro regular 100s! I love quizzing girls on what they have tried and why the settled on the brand they did. Some women alternate between brands, which is also fascinating!
Cigars---especially when a woman inhales them and smokes them just like a cigarette! Second-best is a woman who smokes unfiltered cigarettes, and she gets extra points if she rolls her own! Honorable mention to cloves.
I prefer women who smoke 100 mm cigarettes, especially full flavored brands like Newport, Kool, and Marlboro. I also especially enjoy women who keep their cigarettes in a leather cigarette pouch - I just love to watch them rummaging through their handbags, take out that leather case, open it, and take out a cigarette (and smoke it of course!).
For me, it has got to be cigars. Cigars have class and, when smoked by a woman, are exotic. They imply control and show freedom to be and do what you want. Cigars almost have to be smoked by people who know exactly what they want and how to get it. They are in control of their own lives, are not slaves to other forces and want to enjoy the fine things in life. They are smoked for taste, not addiction. All these things can be said for pipes too, but turn me on to a lesser degree. Not to offend anyone here, but I feel cigarettes are just the opposite, common and a slave to addiction, which is why small cigarette sized cigars do very little for me. To see a woman smoke tiny cigars says to me that she is ashamed of her like for cigars and is trying to disguise the fact that it is a cigar.
It doesn't matter specifically what brand, but the longer it is, the more I like it. 120's are wonderful, and Shermans 164's are even better.
What a girl smokes is very important. The stronger the better! Not too many younger chicks go for the non-filters. The next best thing is non-light smokes, especially Newport 100s (especially if she's white) and B&H 100s (regular and menthol). I love a girl who smokes anything but I would guess that girls who smoke Marlboro Lights are too common, and I tend not to get as excited by them. Parliaments are cool, too.
Yes, it does matter to me what a woman smokes . The stronger the cigarette the better; if it is filtered, a brown filter is preferred. Kools, Newports, Marlboros and Winstons are better. My absolute favorite is to see a woman who smokes non-filtered cigarettes, especially if she is a heavy smoker - now that is a real turn-on! Lights and ultra-lights are much less of a turn-on. I hate cigarette holders and am not turned on at all by cigars or pipes.
Generally, it doesn't matter. However, I do find it more arousing when a woman smokes a stronger cigarette - full-flavor, such as Marlboro or Winston. I prefer the brown filter to a solid white, as the brown usually denotes a strong cigarette. Stronger cigarettes make thicker smoke and to me thicker is better.
Glad you asked. The answer is: big cigars! Big fat expensive cigars! Especially thick handmade eight inch cigars! (That answer, from a couple who subscribes!)
What she smokes doesn't matter, as long as she knows what she's doing while she's smoking it!
Yes it does. I find those new super slim cigarettes an insult to women. They look like they are smoking toothpicks, or joints that are rolled too tight, and the women have to suck too hard to smoke.
You can keep the Marlboro light smokers. I prefer women who smoke brands that are out of the ordinary, whether it's something "classy" like Dunhill or Sherman, or something more "mainstream" but still uncommon, like Pall Mall or Saratoga. Anything that says "I think about smoking, and I chose to smoke this brand because I really like it, not because it's what everyone else smokes."
Dear Smoke Signals:
I've been enjoying Smoke Signals, of course. If you get around to printing some more "why I like to see women smoking" responses, try to say something about my interest in hands. I enjoy seeing a woman with beautiful, expressive hands with long, well-manicured fingers manipulating (with confidence and understated style) cigarettes, holders, and cigars. This includes smoking preliminaries, such as clipping and removing the band from a cigar and/or taking a cigarette from an elegant pocket case or table box (inserting it into the holder, if one is used), and then lighting up with quiet, but stylish flair from a fancy, interesting lighter (no Zippos or butane "disposables")! While the act of smoking is definitely "oral," the "manual" aspects are also important to me. It seems that if a woman uses her hands with elegance and style while smoking, it's only natural to assume that she uses her hands with equal aplomb...in other ways.
You also asked for movies "unmentioned" in the newsletter; what about The House that Vanished, (original title: Scream and Die)? This British murder mystery features ladies smoking in nearly every scene! Add to this the use of fancy ashtrays, cigarette boxes, table lighters and even a long cigarette holder...nearly every character in the movie is puffing like it was going out of style (as it has, unfortunately).
-Jim
Thanks for the addition to the list, Jim, as well as your thoughts on hands. We know you're not alone in your appreciation!
Dear Smoke Signals:
Last month I was leafing through magazines at a well-stocked book store and ran across one that I'd never noticed before called 3rd WORD. The issue was volume 2, issue 3 and it contained a feature article about the former porn star Seka. The spread on her included three absolutely spectacular black and white photos of her smoking her cigarette! I was checking out books in the fashion section of another good bookstores; the book called The Power of Style by Anette Tapert and Diana Edkins contains 19 photos of smoking women, most of which are black and white. I also flipped through the 1993 edition of Arthur Elgort's Models Manual and counted a total of 32 photos of women smoking cigarettes plus two photos of cigar-smoking women.
-Robert
Thanks for the info, Robert. We've seen the Seka photos in question and they are super! And books on photograph and modeling are always good places to search out quality smoking images; you've mentioned two of the very best.
Dear Smoke Signals:
First, just wanted to thank you for a great periodical -- it's a great thing & I hope it puts the fetish further into the mainstream.
Second, just wanted to share with you & get your opinion on the specialization that seems to be occurring within the fetishers. I've noticed that there is a great deal of interest in the following "sub-fetishes."
1. Mother/daughter
2. Particular cigarette types/brands
3. Non-cigarette smoking
I'd like to add two others (partially complementary) that I have, and that I suspect others might share although I haven't seen much discussion of in a.s.f.s or Smoke Signals. These are:
1. Women blowing/exhaling smoke into other people's faces (preferably in some seductive or otherwise sexy context)
2. The Smoking Dominatrix -- preferably outfitted with long black leather or satin gloves & a cigarette holder.
Are you aware of any resources that address these areas of the fetish? Have others ever expressed similar interests? Any interest in starting a discussion of these areas in Smoke Signals? I'd be happy to provide a favorite movie list for these areas if you'd like to include them in a future issue. Again, thanks for a great periodical. Keep up the excellent work.
- Anonymous
Thanks to this reader for the kind words, and the suggestion. There are definitely many fetishists who are interested in all of the areas he mentions; we're sure you've noticed that we've tried to include stories or articles on the subjects on his first list periodically; we haven't done much with the second list, however. To remedy that, elsewhere in this month's Smoke Signals we're printing the movie list this reader submitted at our request. Please let us know if you want to see more on the "dominatrix" angle in future issues.
Don't miss!
Delores Claiborne - Jennifer Jason Leigh chain-smokes; as usual, she's not an outstanding smoker, but this entry is better than her earlier work.
Mad Love - Drew Barrymore smokes throughout; there are many deep inhales, although the exhales aren't great. The director has also unfortunately mastered the technique of cutting away just as Drew starts to take a drag.
Malicious - even though the producers use her smoking to show that Molly Ringwald is a villain, there are a few outstanding scenes in this one.
Swimming with Sharks - one very nice sequence by Michelle Forbes, including several thick nose exhales.
Bar Girls - just some ambient smoking scenes; unfortunately, the stars in this lesbian flick don't smoke (we'd been anticipating this one, too).
Cover Me - one very quick drag.
Deceptions 2: Edge of Deception - Mariel Hemingway takes a few drags, but the fact that Mariel is smoking counts for something.
Go Fish - a few shots, nothing worth writing home about.
Mirage - one incidental shot.
New York Cop - one drag on a joint.
The Underneath - just incidental smoking, although it should have been better.
Tiffani was intrigued and a bit uneasy, as she sat at the bar. It wasn't unusual to see a guy watch her put on her nightly show; she often had several men watching her out of the corners of their eyes, trying desperately not to be obvious, seemingly ashamed of the effect she had on them. What was unusual tonight is that this guy was so obvious, and didn't seem ashamed in the least. He had positioned himself at a nearby table with a perfect view of her seat, and was watching Tiffani with undisguised admiration.
Being watched, of course, did not bother Tiffani at all. It was the whole point of her nightly visit to the bar; in her mind, it validated her sexuality to have such extraordinary control over men she didn't even know. But this one made her feel a bit strange.
Any impartial observer would tell you that Tiffani was a very good-looking woman. She was 24 years old, with piercing blue eyes and shimmering dark hair which fell naturally below her shoulders. Her low-cut black top, leather skirt and stiletto heels showed her ample figure and shapely legs to best advantage. Her appearance was perfect, her long flame-red nails well-manicured, her makeup flawless. Yet Tiffani did not feel attractive or sexy--that is, until she was doing what she did best in life: smoking. Only then could Tiffani feel desirable.
Her thoughts were drawn back to her bold admirer. It was almost as if he was issuing a challenge: "Let's see how good you really are." She wasn't used to being challenged, and certainly wasn't used to the odd sensation she felt in the pit of her stomach.
Tiffani took a long drink to clear her head. She said to herself, "Get hold of yourself, girl. You're in control here, remember?" She stubbed out her cigarette, picked up the gold case that was in front of her on the bar, delicately extracted another cigarette, and lit it with the lighter that was hidden in a corner of the cigarette case. She deliberately avoided looking in the direction of her one-member audience, as she drew deeply on her Saratoga 120, letting the warm smoke fill her lungs. Keeping her fingernails wrapped around the cigarette but not removing it from her mouth, Tiffani took a second deep drag, then a third, exhaling twin streams of thick smoke through her nostrils as she inhaled the second and third times. Settling back on her stool and feeling back in control of herself, she took the cigarette from her mouth and expertly french inhaled a large mouthful of smoke, contentedly letting her remaining smoke drift slowly from her nose as she glanced out of the corner of her eye toward the man at the table.
Much to her dismay, he was still calmly watching her. Even worse, a slight smile seemed to play around the corners of his mouth. She knew she was crazy, but she could almost imagine him saying "Not bad, so far."
Once again, Tiffani was shaken. And she responded to this imagined challenge the only way she knew how. "Fine, you want a show," she thought, "let's see you watch this performance without falling under the spell."
Tiffani went to work, and put on the most astounding display of sexy smoking she could muster. She chain-smoked her way through four Saratoga 120s and two Sherman 164s--inhaling until she could almost feel the smoke in her toes--french inhaling--allowing large clouds of smoke to slowly drift from her lips before rapidly inhaling them back in--exhaling showily through her nose--opening her mouth wide after inhales so that a vast ocean of smoke could be seen eddying and swirling before vanishing into her lungs--blowing huge, thick smoke rings which hovered in front of her as she bisected them with streams of smoke. She used every trick she had ever learned. And throughout, he watched politely, smiling occasionally, even ("I must be imagining this," she thought) mouthing encouraging phrases like "very nice" or "well done."
This was the most distressing evening Tiffani had experienced since she discovered the power of smoking. Men were always intimidated by her; she used smoking to control them. Yet, this one seemed oblivious to her power. In fact, she realized with a start, she was actually being controlled by this anonymous voyeur. She felt an unexplainable and desperate need to meet with his approval. Yet she could not bear to admit it. Not yet.
Tiffani thought "let's see how you deal with this type of smoker," and reached into her purse, taking out what appeared to be a small change purse. With a slight glance in the direction of her admirer, she opened the flap and extracted a wad of tobacco and a rolling paper. Delicately yet expertly, she used her long red fingernails to roll an oversized cigarette, placed it between her painted lips, and lit it with a stainless-steel Zippo she used for this express purpose. Deliberately looking in another direction, Tiffani smoked the entire cigarette in what seemed to be less than two minutes, only removing it from her lips twice to delicately flick her ash, before taking two long final long drags and then using her long nails to casually flip the tiny butt, still-lit, into a nearby fern-pot.
Exhaling her remaining smoke through her nostrils, she glanced over triumphantly. Incredibly, he spoke, his words barely audible. "Good, although I've seen better," he said.
Tiffani had to wrap her legs tightly around her bar stool to keep from quivering. Actually, that was just one reason; she also needed to cling to the stool so that she wouldn't be able to give into an overwhelming urge to throw herself at the man's feet and beg him to take her home.
Somehow, Tiffani found the strength to hold her ground. She took another drink, felt her self-control returning, and even managed to smile sweetly at the man who had become as much her tormentor as her admirer. With a final burst of determination, Tiffani again reached into her purse, and came out with a long, thick Jeroboam, a sterling-silver cutter, and a box of kitchen matches. Tossing her hair over one shoulder, Tiffani clamped the huge cigar into a corner of her mouth, struck one of the matches, and expertly brought her cigar to life with a series of small puffs and then an enormous, cheek-hollowing drag. She held the strong, aromatic smoke deep in her lungs, inhaling again and again, before fully french inhaling a mouthful of cigar smoke, and contentedly exhaling a double-stream through her nose.
Tiffani placed her cigar between her lips, finally feeling ready to stare down the mysterious man who had caused her so much distress all evening. She turned slowly toward his table. He was gone.
Tiffani would have expected (or perhaps, hoped) to experience a vast feeling of relief. Yet, that was not the case. She had never experienced the sharp pang of disappointment and loss that she was feeling, and had no name for it, no way to describe or explain it. All she knew was that she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.
Tiffani gathered up her cigarette case, her lighters and her purse, and slowly headed for the door. She paused briefly at the now-empty table, not knowing why--and noticed a small slip of paper sitting next to the man's empty glass. Not knowing why, she grabbed for the piece of paper, held her breath, and read the neatly-printed words: "See you tomorrow night."
Clutching the paper to her breast, Tiffani sank down into a chair. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely breathe. But, her heart pounding, she finally understood the odd, foreign mix of feelings she'd been experiencing all evening long.
It was love.