The '50s image of a handsome couple lounging out on their lanai while enjoying a martini and an unfiltered Lucky Strike is so over. The general consensus about smoking now would be depicted by a slob in a dirty undershirt reclining in a torn-up lounge chair, a Pall Mall in one hand and a Natty Ice in the other, glaring at an overweight woman in ratty sweatpants brandishing a carton of Newports over his head. Smoking is no longer cool. That does not mean cool kids don't smoke. It just means they band together, clinging tightly to places like 10th Street Station where they can still light up, order a stiff one, hang out with others of their ilk and worry about the effects of their bad habits another day.
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