The cigarette ad brings back lots of cig memories. As a youngster I knew all the different brands, origins, and who smoked which among the guests and ‘inhabitants’ of our house. I remember the various smells that announced the presence of a certain person, or the arrival of my father. The add reminds me of the my pride in presenting the guests who dropped by for an apéritive with the right fags: There were beautiful thick oval Turkish, and Egyptian sticks, and many others often depicted in the magazines I could leaf through. I collected the metal boxes of TURMAC to house my collection of figurines or fishing tackle later. In order to be prepared, my father gave me money to pick up the ‘supplies’, and I felt like the Dandy in the cartoon when I pedalled in my cabriolet to the shop.
image0.jpeg
Proud in my my pedal Austin.
With all these positive vibes in a smoking family it is a mystery why I never smoked (other than some pretentious childhood acts). Yet I also remember the necessity to open all windows when guests left the living room to move to the dining table. Emptying the stinking ashtrays was no pleasure either. I also wanted to get my father to stop smoking (as his smoking physician wanted him to) and tried to sabotage his pleasure sticks by sticking a hair from the horse’s tail into it. Stink and rage had no lasting effect.
The cigarette ad brings back lots of cig memories. As a youngster I knew all the different brands, origins, and who smoked which among the guests and ‘inhabitants’ of our house. I remember the various smells that announced the presence of a certain person, or the arrival of my father. The add reminds me of the my pride in presenting the guests who dropped by for an apéritive with the right fags: There were beautiful thick oval Turkish, and Egyptian sticks, and many others often depicted in the magazines I could leaf through. I collected the metal boxes of TURMAC to house my collection of figurines or fishing tackle later. In order to be prepared, my father gave me money to pick up the ‘supplies’, and I felt like the Dandy in the cartoon when I pedalled in my cabriolet to the shop.
image0.jpeg
Proud in my my pedal Austin.
With all these positive vibes in a smoking family it is a mystery why I never smoked (other than some pretentious childhood acts). Yet I also remember the necessity to open all windows when guests left the living room to move to the dining table. Emptying the stinking ashtrays was no pleasure either. I also wanted to get my father to stop smoking (as his smoking physician wanted him to) and tried to sabotage his pleasure sticks by sticking a hair from the horse’s tail into it. Stink and rage had no lasting effect.
Ruedi