SIG’S CIGAR ETIQUETTE

THERE ARE all manner of books about men’s manners. How to Be a Man: A Guide to Style and Behavior for the Modern Gentleman by the inestimable Glenn O’Brien (2011) is a classic; Peter Post’s Essential Manners for Men (2003) and Men and Style: Essays, Advice and Considerations (2016) by David Coggins are excellent as well.

Learning etiquette from a book and living it are different things, though. Nothing beats practical experience, and assuming your mama raised you right, some decorum is intuitive. Others, more along the lines of customs, must be taught. Anyone who knows me knows one custom I espouse is that a gentleman should always carry a “three-finger” cigar case: a cigar for oneself, one to give away and one to trade. Sensible, polite …but not necessarily intuitive.

Cigars are highly ceremonial, and as such traditions and social graces are prevalent throughout cigar culture. Here are some tips to keep you on the right side of the behavioral spectrum. (Failure to adhere to these is a major personal pet peeve.)

ASK BEFORE YOU IGNITE. Unless you’re in a smoking establishment (lounge, club, bar, merchant tasting room, etc.), always ask those around you if they mind if you light up. This goes double if women are present. I don’t care how old-fashioned that sounds. Chivalry and manners maketh the man.

NO SPITTING, NO CLIPPING. Do not place your cigar in your mouth in any way—no moistening, licking, chewing, drooling or “just seeing how it feels”—prior to cutting . . . and then have the audacity to ask to borrow someone’s cutter. This isn’t cigar etiquette; it’s a public-health directive. It happens a lot more than you might expect. (It’s up there with asking to try “just a puff” of someone’s cigar. Did we learn nothing from the pandemic other than how to forget boundaries more quickly?)

PAIR IT, DON’T DIP IT. No matter what you’ve seen in movies, reels, and on videos, and no matter if your friend swears it “elevates the experience,” for the love of all that is civilized, do not dip the cap end of your cigar into fine Cognac, brandy or other eau-de-vie. That’s not refinement. It’s marinating.

STIFLE THE BRAGS, HUMBLE OR OTHERWISE. No one cares how many aged Cubans you have. Unless someone asks specifically, zip it.

REMEMBER THE WIMP. Popeye’s burger-loving pal, J. Wellington Wimpy, was a polite moocher. Be polite. Don’t be a mooch. If you’re headed to a social occasion, cigar lounge, barbecue or even a casual stroll and you know cigars will be in rotation, come equipped. A cigar is not something you “borrow”—there is no polite way to ask. If you’re unsure whether the host will provide, assume he won’t, and bring your own. Preparedness, too, is an element of the gentleman’s code.

THE HOST WITH THE MOST: If you are the host, generosity is mandatory. Have enough cigars on hand for everyone to enjoy at least one. If it’s a round of golf or any extended affair, plan on two each. Running out isn’t just inconvenient. It’s amateurish.

If the social occasion is at your home, office or club, it is essential that you’ve set the table or bar top properly. The host must have lighters (or long matches) and cutters readily available—on the bar, on a tray, within easy reach. Scatter some ashtrays about as well. You wouldn’t host dinner and forget the forks and knives, would you? This is the same deal, just with puros instead of porterhouses.

GOOD TO THE LAST PUFF—OR NOT: I was once asked, “If you’ve been given a cigar, is it rude not to finish it?” My answer was, more or less: “it depends entirely on how much inner Larry David you’re prepared to indulge.”

Seriously though, barring truly extenuating circumstances—an egregiously unpleasant flavor, a plugged draw, or a cigar that insists on canoeing like it’s navigating the Hudson—basic civility applies. If you accepted it willingly, the polite course is to see it through to at least the final third. Anything less begins to feel less like discernment and more like a social statement.