If there is one thing I know, its cigarettes. I know that if you see someone rolling their own cigarettes, they don’t particularly want to –– they’re just broke. And I know that Marlboro Reds are the telltale sign of a loose woman (My apologies to women who smoke Marlboro Reds. Although, maybe if you stopped fucking anything with a pulse, that stereotype would go away). I know that menthols are for meth addicts and people who don’t care about their taste buds.

If there is another thing I know, its women, and not just because I am one. And so it is natural that I would write a review of cigarettes marketed to women. In my expert opinion, this market can be broken down into the “Big Four” –– Camel No. 9s, Mistys, Capris and Virginia Slims.

Camel No. 9s: Perhaps I should be offended by the idea that the only way to package women’s cigarettes is to put a shit ton of pink all over the package. But I’m not. It’s a pretty cool package –– black and hot pink. The name is also genius, reminiscent of Chanel No. 5. Plus, the actual cigarette has vertical, as opposed to horizontal lines. I don’t know what the real purpose of this is, but it reminds me that vertical stripes are slimming. A cigarette that reminds you not to show off your back fat –– now that’s ingenuity! All in all, the cigarette is smokable, but not great. A solid 6.

Virginia Slims: I bought the 120 Luxury Ultra Lights. For those of you who aren’t cool (I mean, don’t smoke) 120 just means that they are ridiculously long cigarettes, 120 mm as opposed to the normal 85 mm. I liked these because they made me feel like Cruella de Vil, albeit without the holder. However, although feeling like a woman who kills puppies was fun for a while, the cigarette is way, way too long. You have to really suck to get the smoke into your lungs, and for those who don’t know, smokers don’t really have a hell of a lot of lung capacity. I suppose I didn’t have to get the 120s, but, you know, they were luxury. My hands were tied. To sum up, I would take the cigarette if it were free, but I wouldn’t pay money for it.

Misty: Also 120s, but by no means luxury. There isn’t a whole lot to say about these. I would rather smoke mulch. The saving grace of these cigarettes is the packaging, featuring a bizarre pastel rainbow, similar to the eighties-style “paintings” you can still find at any Kwik Kuts.

Capris: Okay, R.J. Reynolds. You got me. I love these. How on earth could you know that I love shit that is miniature? I didn’t even know that I wanted to smoke toothpick-sized cigarettes until I opened that wonderful white pack with the watercolor orchid. Really, love at first light. Besides the taste and size, I also enjoy these because I feel as though I am not dying quite as fast given that I am smoking fun-sized cigarettes.

I don’t really want to conclude this article in the way that one would expect from a woman reviewing women’s cigarettes. I could say that it’s an outrage that cigarette companies try to sell cancer to women by making the product miniature, pink, and “luxury”. And I guess it is. But, at the same time, most of these brands have been around for quite a while, and the newer Camel No. 9s are doing pretty well, so maybe the tobacco industry has really gotten into women’s heads. Whether the packaging is an outrage or a success, my guess is that most of the readers would probably prefer that cigarettes simply didn’t exist.

Furthermore, it is doubtful that any smoker, female or male, would actually change brands based on this review. So, fuck it, I guess. If the whim grabs you, pick up a pack of Capris.