I left work tonight while the air was still warm, and walked through SoHo to go shopping. There’s a cigar and smoke shop on West Broadway just south of Spring where interesting, creative, really well-dressed men sit on the stoop in the evenings to smoke stogies and talk. It’s like something out of an ad, except you can smell the sweet bitterness of their tobacco.
Everyone sits on stoops in SoHo, and it gives it this very bohemian, neighborhood-ey vibe like everybody knows everybody or something.
When I walked by those men tonight– one in a navy suit with a checkered shirt and bow tie– all reclining on the wide black steps of this vintage smoke shop, I was struck by the magic of the moment. And I find I have lots and lots and lots of those moments in New York. This city may be hard, and it may be dark, and it may be dangerous and oppressive and scary and expensive and I may feel all alone most of the time… But this city is magic. And I’m so glad I’m here with those men who smoke cigars.