(Today’s article is by contributing writer Robert Farago whose blog you can find here.)
I’m not sure when I started smoking cigars, but I know when I’ll stop: when they pry a stogie from my cold, dead hands.
I know: mouth cancer. The ultimate irony for a man who never learned how to keep his mouth shut. In my defense, I don’t drink [much], ingest illicit substances (before jumping on my motorcycle) or hang out with sketchy people ( Sundays). I’m not saying cigar smoking is my only vice. Nor the least dangerous. But it’s definitely the most socially acceptable. Inside a cigar bar, that is.
Action movie voice-over:
In a world where cigar smokers are treated like enemy combatants, banned and panned, reviled and exiled, The People of the Stogie secretly gather to plot their revenge on their public persecution.
Despite the cigar-chomping bad guy and mucho macho movie stereotypes, cigar bars are populated by some of the most peaceful people you’ll find outside of an ashram. To paraphrase Elvis, if you’re looking for trouble, you’ve come to the wrong place. That said, not all cigar lounges are the same.
After visiting some thirty cigar bars across this great nation, I can report that many if not most are mostly if not entirely populated by OFWG’s (Old Fat White Guys). We’re talking horizontally-challenged locals who’ve known each other since the late Paleolithic Era holding court in pleather Barcaloungers illuminated by big screen TV’s tuned to Fox News. You’re not unwelcome if you lean left, but you’d be forgiven for feeling marginalized should the regulars start trying to set the world to rights (so to speak).
Cigar lounges in major cities like Dallas tend to be larger, more diverse and sports mad. You’re not unwelcome if you don’t support the local professional football, baseball or basketball team, but you’d be forgiven for feeling a little marginalized by game day fervor.
Knoxville’s Alchemy Lounge and Cigar ain’t either of those things. For one thing, interior designer and co-owner Brooke Phillips has created a riff on an English gentlemen’s club: an urban enclave as casually comfortable as a well-worn tweed jacket. Subdued lighting, stately cabinetry, regal leather chairs and soft furnishings complete Alchemy’s Olde World vibe. Aside from a single screen perched above the bar, TV’s are notable by their absence.
The clubby interior doesn’t square with Old City’s history of raucous saloons and brothels, but it’s a perfect fit for the area’s “smart casual” reinvention. Why there’s a snowshoe in one of Alchemy’s elegant bathrooms is anyone’s guess. But there’s no question that Alchemy’s an invitation to forget the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and, as Southerners say, sit and stay a spell.
The cigar bar’s patrons are a testimony to modern Knoxville’s diversity, inclusion and equity. They’re young and old. Rich and not-so-rich. Tourist, native and newbie. Gay and straight. Black and white. All meet and mingle without fear or favor.
Or not. Alchemy offers seating arrangements for solitary smokers and schmoozers looking to withdraw far from the madding crowd, or small groups looking to hang with their homies.
Cigar lounges have a longstanding tradition of bonhomie. Stogie lovers don’t enter a cigar lounge looking for a fight anymore than a vegan seeks out a sirloin steak. What they do want: casual conversation.
As you’d expect from a cigar bar attracting such a heterogeneous clientele, the South Central retreat’s home to wide-ranging discussions. Roofing, romcoms, cooking, hiking, biking, English lit, black holes – Alchemy’s an academy of the people, by the people, for the people.
What you won’t hear: heated political, religion or sports-related discussions. While the topics aren’t forbidden or discouraged, Alchemy is a “safe space” for strangers and regulars to share a drink and a smoke and explore common ground, rather than engage in controversy or one-upmanship.
Alchemy lubricates the camaraderie with cocktails crafted from top shelf liquor. The bartenders serve old standards with a new twist (there’s nothing old-fashioned about their Old Fashioned) and innovative intoxicants born from the mixologists’ fertile imagination.
Alchemy’s small but perfectly formed humidor places quality and exclusivity over variety. A tobacconist stands ready to help customers pick, cut and light the right stick, based on taste, budget and experience. There’s no cutting fee for bringing your own favorite smoke. I’ve been known to show-up with a My Father brand cigar called The Judge.
Which reminds of one of my father’s favorite quotes: “Judging another person does not define who they are. It defines you.”
There are few places where complete strangers can meet in the spirit of friendship. Fewer still where they can converse freely with people who park their prejudice at the door. Is high-value social interaction worth the health risks of cigar smoking? At Alchemy Cigar Lounge and Bar, the question is an open invitation to an interesting discussion.