That’s what she smokes.
Sitting in her producer’s Chelsea studio in jeans and an oversize sweater, smoking Pall Mall Blues that share space — in a beat-up snakeskin bag — with an old Tennessee Williams paperback, Lana Del Rey…
And she smokes them sitting outside on the steps of a brownstone house on 25th Street (right here). Why else should she want to sit outside with a coffee in Bloomberg’s New York in January?
We head to a 10th Avenue Italian restaurant that her publicist has chosen. It feels tacky. “Do you want to just get a coffee across the street, and sit on a stoop? It’s not too cold?” she asks. I agree, though it is in fact too cold.
Oh, and this is what she looks like when she’s smoking them. The Pall Mall Blues, that is.
And doesn’t that make it just so incredibly cool for girls to sit outside in the middle of winter, looking real cute, and smoking cigarettes. Well, smoking Pall Mall Blue, to be precise.
Tobacco Control must be livid.
They’re trying to get the kids to see that smoking kills them, and makes them old and wrinkly, with teeth falling out, and lungs like coal sacks. And then along comes the latest drop dead gorgeous superstar singer, and she’s brazenly smoking everywhere. Pall Mall Blue. And undoing all their good work. Totally Boo Hoo.
Here’s the pack to look out for, girls.
And in your beat-up snakeskin handbag (and do try to get one made from genuine beat-up snakes), you gotta have a well-thumbed copy of Tennessee Williams’ Streetcar Named Desire. And, of course, a packet of Pall Mall Blue.
And in no time at all you’ll be dating someone like Glaswegian Barrie James O’Neill from Kassidy. Yes, that’s right. But maybe not quite so hairy.
And then you’ll be sitting out on a pier on Clydebank, or Montevideo or wherever, looking real cute, reading Tennessee Williams, and smoking, as ever, Pall Mall Blue.
(I think I’m gonna add another Information Box in the margin. It’ll probably say something like, oh, let’s see… Pall Mall Blue.)