The 8 Unexpected Things That Helped Catbird’s Co-Creative Director Quit Smoking
Save this article to read it later.
Find this story in your account’s‘Saved for Later’section.
Comment
Four years ago, four years after my mother died, I threw my cigarettes in the trash on my walk home from work, and I (almost) haven’t smoked since. My mother hated smoking, and lying, and I hate that I smoked secretly and stunk of cigarettes as she lay dying in our house. Once my cigarettes were at the bottom of atrash cansomewhere along Devoe Street in Williamsburg (close to Humboldt, I think), I went straight to the bodega to buy an e-cigarette. I puffed through one of those, and then bought another that stayed in my bag for the next year, just in case.
Quitting smoking was the hardest thing that I have done of my own volition. Like a less-sylph-like Margot Tennenbaum, I had smoked secretly on-and-off for years, but by the time I quit, I had been addicted for a while. I spent my first weekend as a non-smoker alone. My husband had gone to a festival with friends at Mass Moca, and I didn’t speak to anyone for three days (which would have been impossible if my mother was alive). I walked in circles in my apartment, watchedWhat Happened, Miss Simone?, went to the bodega, drankseltzerwithbitters, and ate. A few days later, my friend Zosia invited me to ayogaclass atY7. I went, didn’t know to take mymascaraoff, and cried at the end. I kept going back.
Quitting, like grieving, is about time, learning how to pass through it in a new way, diving headfirst into the wave, to come out the other side. None of the things I mentioned above — or the other stuff I list below, for that matter — helped me notwantto smoke. But all of them were happy, needed distractions that led to the kindling of new rituals.
New! You can now save this product for later.
At that first Y7 class, I was given a big Nalgenewater bottlethat I then clutched like a pacifier, or a very large cigarette, all summer long. I looped it around my index finger, where it dangled like a cigarette once did. It was a constant companion, a thing to do in small doses, all day long. Carrying it around was a bit of a chore, but then again, so was smoking. Addictions are always getting in your way.
New! You can now save this product for later.
That summer, I spritzed rosewater on everything I ate. Intently spraying it with my index finger (the one I’d dangle my big water bottle from, because it no longer held a cigarette) felt purposeful: I was turning my chia into something ambrosial. And with every cigarette I didn’t smoke, I’d tell myself I was turning my body into a flower, too. These days, I still drop rosewater intoreally icy water, or spikeseltzerwith it, or sprinkle it on cantaloupe or strawberries and coconut for my daughter. (I also have a daughter now. I hope she never smokes, but if she does, I hope she will be brave enough to be honest with me.)
New! You can now save this product for later.
Speaking of everything I ate: I first had taralli as an afternoon snack with one of my most wonderful friends — she and her partner served them on a small plate, with a glass of very bubbly seltzer and bitters. I started to do the same thing; on summer Fridays, I would set up a little afternoon taralli spread on my table, and my chihuahua would sit across from me with alemon treebehind her. It became another ritual to take the place of smoking, one that lasted far longer than the lemon tree (my thumb is not green).
New! You can now save this product for later.
After the firstyogaclass, I got wise to the idea of transitioning from a work day to the damp basement of Y7’s old Williamsburg studio. (I loved descending down those stairs.) I would take my (very precious) bottle ofVintner’s Daughterwith me, patting a few drops into my skin after removing my makeup. In time, its smell — one that I can’t really put my finger on, that I still find so relaxing — would become synonymous with my newyogahabit, one I never would have thought my body could achieve. I was kind of terrible at yoga, but I did it, and that felt like the biggest triumph! I haven’t gone in a long time, and I mostly don’t think about smoking anymore. But writing this now at my dining room table, I am smiling and unfurling as I think back on that blast of Y7 heat and the herbaceous aroma of Vintner’s Daughter (which is still one of my very favorite skin-care products).
New! You can now save this product for later.
After yoga, I would take very long Youth Dew baths, with a seltzer, rosé, and a book. My grandmother (she smoked, too) gave me a bottle of Youth Dew for my bat mitzvah, and it has an enveloping,chic-grandmasmell. One drop of the oil in my bath made that whole side of our apartment bloom; I would read until my fingertips were pruney and everything was washed away so I could roll intobedfragrant and ready to sleep, not smoke.
New! You can now save this product for later.
While quitting, I caught — and still have — #ferrantefever. Lying on the beach (where I spent a lot of time that summer) I chain-smokedher books. The only place I wanted to be was living with Lila and Lenu in Naples. There was no me there, I was neither smoker nor non-smoker. In their world, I was still, I was silent.
New! You can now save this product for later.
At the end of a beach day I would shower and, wrapped intowels, bring my potions and lotions and a glass of wine to a balcony next to the ocean. I would very slowly make my way through my little shiny white toiletry bag, saving Glow Balm — with it’s rose-meets-frankincense scent, and spa-of-the-mind feeling — for last. I’d pat it on my damp face, the sun would set, we would go to dinner, eat ice cream, not smoke, and I would wake up the next morning, thinking of coffee, my mother, and less and less, cigarettes.
New! You can now save this product for later.
Quitting smoking left me numb and feeling depressed. I’m in the business of selling beautiful things, yet I know that nothing beautiful can make hard times less hard. But something special can be a small secret mirror to help reflect the tiny sparks of joy on the path to repair. A few weeks into being cigarette-free, I added this ring to my stack as a little reminder that hard work and joy go hand in hand. It’s still there.
Quitting smoking left me numb andfeeling depressed. I’m in the business of selling beautiful things, yet I know that nothing beautiful can make hard times less hard. But something special can be a small secret mirror to help reflect the tiny sparks of joy on the path to repair. A few weeks into being cigarette-free, I added this ring to my stack as a little reminder that hard work and joy go hand in hand. It’s still there.
The Strategistis designed to surface the most useful, expert recommendations for things to buy across the vast e-commerce landscape. Some of our latest conquests include the bestacne treatments,rolling luggage,pillows for side sleepers,natural anxiety remedies, andbath towels. We update links when possible, but note that deals can expire and all prices are subject to change.
