Sex and the City. Image Courtesy of HBO.
Starting January 1st, Milan extinguished cigarettes from all public spaces, even the streets. Kicking off 2025 smoke-free feels like the city collectively enforcing a New Year’s resolution for its citizens. In a place like Milan—where smoking is less a habit and more a cultural artifact; an accessory slightly held between your index and middle finger —the move provokes a new moral debate.
Smoking has been a gesture: chic, cinematic, a shorthand for allure. But this accessory, like all trends, has evolved. Once the height of glamour, it became gritty, then taboo, and finally a paradox—both rebellion and relic. It’s undeniably damaging to lungs and the environment, yet seductively persistent. Cigarettes remain the lungenbrötchen (“bread for the lungs”), a darkly affectionate German idiom that encapsulates their duality: nourishment for some, poison for all.
Despite its known risks—lung cancer, fertility issues, even vision loss—smoking endures. The pictorial warnings plastered on cigarette packs, introduced globally in the 2010s, have become almost collectible curios. Smokers shuffle through images, picking “favorites” like trading cards. The tobacco industry doesn’t hide the consequences; it doesn’t need to. The ritual of lighting up seems to override logic.
Scarface. Image Courtesy of Universal Pictures.
Anti-smoking campaigns are not a new phenomenon. The first modern one came from an unlikely source: Nazi Germany. Adolf Hitler, a vehement non-smoker, caused one of the most powerful anti-smoking movements of the 1930s and ’40s. By the late ’60s, the US picked up, linking smoking to pregnancy risks, and the ’90s birthed activist groups fighting Big Tobacco.
Today, America leads the charge with budgets to match. In 2024 alone, the US expected to spend $730 million to tobacco prevention, overshadowing Europe’s less transparent efforts. While countries like the UK disclose some funding, the rest of Europe remains silent—perhaps a sign of inadequate commitment.
The cultural divergence between the US and Europe on smoking is stark. In the States, it’s a public health crisis; in Europe, it’s an enduring symbol, immortalized in French New Wave cinema. Smoking, both on-screen and off, became shorthand for vulnerability, rebellion, or femme fatale mystique. And as life imitates art, the emotional weight of the cigarette lingers. Sharing one can feel like an intimate confession or a quiet form of solidarity.
The Queen's Gambit. Image Courtesy of Netflix.
Ironically, the European countries most synonymous with smoking are now leading the charge against it. France, for instance, has banned public smoking in many spaces and is eyeing a prohibition on disposable e-cigarettes. Yet e-cigarettes, with their candy-like designs, have carved a niche, particularly in the US. Beneath their watermelon-ice facades lies the same addictive story, with a modern twist: nicotine wrapped in a battery-powered disguise, hooking even the anti-smoking US into its charm.
Smoking, by all logic, should be extinct by now. Decades of damning PR, anti-smoking campaigns, and a new competitor in e-cigarettes should have consigned it to history. There was even hope with Gen Z—promised as the “healthier generation,” known for cutting back on alcohol and chasing wellness trends. But then came the era of “brat summer,” messy-girl aesthetics, and Addison Rae nonchalantly puffing on a cigarette, reigniting its pop-culture status.
This resurgence shouldn’t come as a shock. The renaissance of 2010s fashion and culture has been quietly simmering for years. Smoking, inevitably, is part of that messy glamour. It’s a prop in the trope of chaotic celebrities, a symbol of a life lived too fast and too freely. Somehow, against all odds, it’s cool again.
La Belle Noiseuse. Image Courtesy of Pierre Griese Productions.
It’s the rules that make cigarettes feel even more alluring. Smoking’s toxic reputation has turned it into an apathetic shrug at life—or, more dramatically, at one’s own mortality. There’s something child-like about it: the more forbidden it becomes, the more enticing it feels.
But what does a cigarette even taste like? For some smoky, maybe even bitter but they all come with the sweet taste of rebellion. Lighting up is a way of trying on personas: the struggling artist, the frenetic fashion intern, the social butterfly outside a club. A cigarette is a way to project an image without saying a word. And while the loyal followers of smoking may meet their end faster than their non-smoking peers, the phenomenon itself refuses to die.
Even in Milan, a city so deeply intertwined with cigarette culture, the government’s ban on smoking in public feels like a hollow law. The cultural remains—the scattered cigarette butts, the shared post-show smoke breaks—aren’t going anywhere. By the time fashion week rolls around, the rules will be more like suggestions, destined to be broken. Smoking, like fashion itself, is cyclical. It’s messy, contradictory, and endlessly intriguing. Love it or hate it, the cigarettes simply refuse to burn out.