Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
Linda Evangelista, Autumn 95
(continued from page 14)
As I sit here, pondering the words I am about to etch onto this page, I am humbled by the simplicity of the issues that make us friends and the fine line that makes one an enemy.
Two evenings ago, I sat in the bar of the Tropicana in San José del Cabo, Mexico, drinking a poorly made 1800 Margarita and smoking a Montecristo No.4. It was my third Cuervo following four Pacificos earlier in the afternoon, thus allowing my mind to settle in with these Baja surroundings. Diane (my wife) was spending most of the burning moments with our Cuban masterpiece, and it caught someone's eye.
Her name was Denise, a transplanted born-again local from Canada with enchanting turquoise blue eyes whose sole purpose that night was to point us in the right direction and then make sure we got there safely. Drawn over by the cigar, she said that anyone smoking a Montecristo would be interested in the best that San José had to offer. Indeed we were. The evening that followed was quite the local sightseeing, barhopping tour. First night in town, being introduced to all the locals and touring their favorite hangouts, who was going to argue with this? All the while being chauffeured by Joseph, Denise's fun-loving expatriate mate.
New friends drawn together by a Montecristo. It seems so unlikely, and yet it is so common for something so simple to have a meaningful effect on people. Lines across the earth; who rules the heavens; who deserves to exist unmolested based on their heritage. None of the above should separate people, and in reality just a cigar should not forge a friendship. But it does.
Pacific Palisades, California
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Both my husband and I have been reading this magazine for the past year, and we both appreciate the taste of a good cigar or pipe from time to time. We also both appreciate the articles you publish.
In reading the responses to the Spring 1995 India Allen article, I am frankly appalled. I have read from women who claim that they do all they can to educate their families, but will not allow them to appreciate art. I have read from gentlemen who cannot appreciate form for what it is. I am only sorry that these people are so narrow-minded and bigoted as to blind their senses to the art portrayed by Ms. Allen. In the beginning of the article, it blatantly advertised her former publication credits. At this time, anyone who did not wish to read this article should either have removed the appropriate pages or turned past them to the next article.
I am shocked at the ignorance of individuals who cannot appreciate the beauty of the human body as portrayed by God, Monet, Gauguin and other master artists, past and present. I also sincerely hope that these individuals never have the opportunity to visit an art museum, as I do not wish to have their senses offended or to have some of history's most treasured monuments removed by the same mentality that authorized book burning for the sight of "that word" or "that attitude" toward other people.
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