The Slow Burn: Suits, Status, and Smoke Rings

The deeper I go into cigar culture, the more I find myself quietly resenting the traditional format.

You know the one, suited-up men swirling whiskey, leather chairs, mood lighting, talking mergers and acquisitions while the smoke curls upward in quiet reverence.
It’s classy, sure. Polished. Iconic, even.
But let’s be real, it’s not the full picture.

Cigars are often marketed as a luxury…an indulgence tied to status, sophistication, and slow living.
And hey, I get it. There’s truth in that.

Premium cigars are handmade. Painstakingly so.
They say it takes 300 people, 600 hands, to create a single cigar before it ever hits your humidor.
Break that down and it checks out:
Growing. Harvesting. Curing. Fermenting. Aging. Sorting. De-veining. Blending. Rolling. Sorting again. Banding. Boxing. Shipping.

The craftsmanship? I’m all in.
The ritual? 100 percent.

But the status signaling? The over-glossed imagery of cigars as some exclusive indulgence for guys who collect watches and “network”?
That part grinds my gears.

Yes, cigars cost money.
Yes, smoking them takes time.
But how we enjoy them?
That’s where I think the cigar industry’s marketing has missed the mark.

You’d think every smoker was out there in a tailored suit with a rocks glass in one hand and a $50 stick in the other.
Sure, I’ve burned a cigar or two in a baller lounge. And yes, sometimes a setting calls for a jacket and a little extra polish.
Weddings. Business events. The occasional fancy evening.
But that’s the exception. Not the rule.

Most of the time?
I'm on the patio.
In the lounge down the street.
Outside at a campground or city park.
Anywhere with fresh air and a little peace where nobody’s giving me the side-eye for lighting up.

I don’t need a three-piece suit and a tumbler of $200 Scotch to feel connected to the moment.
I need a good cigar, a little space, and no rush.

However, that’s exactly what most cigar brand marketing tells me I need to aspire to; a high-society lifestyle just to enjoy a premium stick.

Not to brag, but... I wore a suit damn near every day for years.
And let me tell you, suits and cigars don’t make the man.
A man (or woman) makes the suit.

I’ve presented in Chanel’s boardroom.
I’ve been inside the Nike hangar (shoutout to their jet tail number: N1KE—the ultimate flex).
I’ve sat across from hedge fund moguls and even held a meeting in Lorne Michaels’ office at SNL.

Outside of kicking it with the Clintons, flying PJs to Epstein Island (nah), or smoking with Saudi royalty, I’ve spent time with the exact people most cigar brands plaster all over their ads.

And yeah, sure, it’s cool. But they poop too.

A $50 cigar is out of reach for most people. And for the real ones…the everyday smokers lighting up three or four times a day, it’s just not sustainable.
Sure, maybe some 1%er is puffing on a million-dollar Gurkha in a G5 while floating in an infinity pool.
But let’s be honest: what do they really know about cigars?
Do they love the craft or the exclusivity?
Are they part of the brotherhood of the leaf, or are they just checking off luxury boxes?

It’s easy to poke fun at the absurd. But the truth is…they’re people too. And honestly, I’m glad anyone is enjoying a cigar, whether it’s because they’re hype-beasting for the ’Gram or they’ve genuinely fallen in love with the leaf.

Either way... they’re smoking. And that?
That’s a good thing.

Now let me hop off my high horse for a second.

What I’m really trying to say is this:
Great cigars provide connection.

Sometimes it’s introspection that leads to self-awareness.
Sometimes it’s the camaraderie of shared space that heals like a good therapist.
But it’s not about the suits or the ultra-lounges.
It’s not about velvet ropes or private vaults.
It’s not even about the price tag on the tobacco.

It’s the people.
The people make the leaf what it is.
Left on its own, it’s just a weed. But with the right hands?
It becomes something sacred.

I’m not here to pander to the old guard.
And to be clear, I’m not talking about disrespecting the legends who came before us.
I’m talking about this gatekeeping mentality…this idea that you have to be somebody to enjoy the finer things.
Or worse, that you’re not anyone until you’ve been granted access to their exclusive experience.

Brolo is different.

Brolo is a labor of love, for the everyday guy.
For the weekend warriors, the midnight thinkers, the blue collars, and the brown loafers.
It’s for the ones who know that meaning lives in the quiet, smoky spaces between moments…not behind a velvet rope.

I’ve never fit the mold. I didn’t grow up in cigar lounges wearing tailored suits and sipping bourbon with hedge fund execs.
I grew up in honky tonks under neon lights, with the smell of stale beer, jukebox heartbreak, and stories that ran deeper than the pockets that told them.

Traveling in bands, I saw real America.
Backwoods grit. 6th Street hipsters. Rail yard workers in Edmond, Oklahoma. Sunset strangers outside the Viper Room. The painted desert and the Guadalupe's slow bend.
I’ve played Gruene Hall—the Texas Grand Ole Opry—and walked the steps of Red Rocks with calloused feet and big dreams.

And you know what I found in all those places?

Real people.
Some broke. Some loaded. Some saints. All sinners.
But if they had a cigar in hand, they had a story to tell…and a seat at the table.

I’ve lived a hard life and a privileged one.
Both sides of the coin.
And no matter where I was, or who I was with - outside of my faith - the Brotherhood of the Leaf was always there.

That’s what Brolo Cigars is all about.
Not status. Not exclusivity.
Connection.

It’s about lighting up and leaning in.
Laughing. Crying. Praying. Suffering.
Together.

This isn’t some next wave, cool-kid brand chasing trends.
Brolo is about the old truth in a new voice. It’s about honoring the ones who came before while giving the everyday smoker a place to belong, without needing an invite.

So when you light up a Brolo, you're not just smoking a cigar.
You're joining a fellowship…one slow burn at a time.

The initial blends will be ready to smoke in just a few weeks.
Years of burning, dreaming, journaling, and jamming flavors together…it’s all led to this moment. I’ll keep you posted, just like I always do. But if you want to ride shotgun for the real-time updates, follow along on Instagram: @joshua.am.stephens.

Nicaragua’s calling.
Stay tuned, fam. This slow burn’s just heating up.