One evening in London, on a balcony in Notting Hill, a glass of whisky in hand, someone handed me two Monte-Carlo Club cigar, Robusto. I’d never really smoked cigars before, but I figured: why not?
I lit it without expecting much. But from the first draw, I was surprised. Smooth. Full of flavour. Not overwhelming, just balanced. I leaned back, listened to the city below, and something shifted. Everything slowed down.
I wasn’t checking my phone. I wasn’t thinking about the next thing. I was just there, in the moment, watching the smoke curl into the London air.
That’s when I got it.
A cigar like this isn’t just about taste. It’s about space. About taking time. About turning an ordinary evening into something memorable.
Now, wherever I go, I bring a Monte-Carlo Club with me. Not just for the smoke — for the moment.
