The Performative Cigarette

Lately, I’ve been seeing more and more people entering what I can only describe as their “cigarette era.” And not in the way that suggests they’ve taken up smoking—like actually taken it up, quietly, privately, in a way that might imply anything real. No, this is a different kind of smoking. This is story-slide smoking. It’s not a habit. It’s a moment. A performance. A mood board. “Need a cig tonight.” “Drunk cig incoming.” type shit. Like the Marlboro just appeared in their hand out of nowhere and now they’re a little dangerous. A little mysterious.

And look, they are actually smoking. I’m not saying people are pretending. They light it. They inhale. Sometimes they even finish it. But the cigarette always ends up on the story. Always. Usually it’s in some blurry flash photo, or silhouetted in front of a bar sign, captioned “mood.” Bonus points if it’s black and white. Or if they post it right after a story slide of Red (Taylor’s Version) playing on the TV. Like we’re supposed to think: damn, so edgy.

To be fair—I get it. Cigarettes still look cool. There’s a reason they show up in every photo dump between the disco ball ceiling and the blurry espresso martini. If I didn’t know better, I’d think lighting one automatically adds contrast to your skin tone and a little mystery to your jawline.

But it’s not rebellion anymore. It’s branding.

I don’t care if you smoke. I really don’t. I actually respect the person who just smokes and keeps it moving. They’re not trying to be seen doing it. They’re not curating the moment. They’re just out back, genuinely addicted to something, checking their phone in peace. We all have our stuff.

What drives me nuts is when the cigarette becomes a personality trait. You know the one—the once-every-two-weeks American Spirit Blue. Pulled out dramatically on a patio. Dragged exactly twice and then handed off. It’s not a craving. It’s a performance. You’re not a smoker. You’re someone who posts about smoking.

And it’s always the same aesthetic. Slicked-back hair. Aritzia leather pants. Or a guy in a baby tee who’s trying to look emotionally unavailable but still posts every show he goes to. The goal isn’t the cigarette. The goal is to be seen smoking it. To show up in someone else’s story looking like you just left an indie film screening.

You’re not channeling Joan Didion. You’re not giving Carrie Bradshaw spiraling in a silk dress. You’re copying the part where they looked hot and vaguely troubled. The cigarette isn’t your vice. It’s your visual motif.

And honestly—I’m not above it. I bought a film camera once solely because I thought it would make my life look cooler online. Took a bunch of photos of coffee cups and stairwells and convinced myself they were profound. So yeah, we’ve all dabbled.

But there’s a difference between doing something because it feels good in the moment and doing it because you hope it’ll look good later. One is real. The other not so much

And you don’t even pretend it’s casual—that’s the thing. The cigarette is the point. You want people to notice. You want the kids you went to high school with to see you moved to a big city and think, “Oh, they smoke now. Badass.”

Yet you ask if someone has a cuter lighter.

And I’m not saying people can’t change or try on new things. Everyone’s figuring it out. But smoking a cigarette doesn’t make you cool. It just amplifies whatever was already there. If there’s nothing there to begin with, now you’re just boring—but with a slight cough.

If you’re smoking because you want to, cool. If it’s part of your night and not your brand, even better. But if you need to post about it every single time—

maybe ask yourself why you need a cigarette to feel like the main character.

-EH