vaping game
Decades after the cigarette was demonised, a tiny electronic device arrived to take its place, picked up on the way to house parties and passed between friends on dancefloors. How did a generation get addicted to vaping – and what is it really doing to us?
words: Zoë Beaty
I’m skulking in the corner of a pub garden, fumbling around in my pockets for the third time today. The longer I look, the stronger the thumping in my chest becomes. I’m getting anxious, my skin beginning to gently prickle at the thought that I might have to go without. Opposite me, my friend is chatting away, blissfully unaware of my rising panic. But until I find my vape, I just can’t listen. It’s a dramatic response: I’m looking for a tiny device – a Juul, my favourite because it’s ‘elegant’ – that has become permanently attached to my person for over a year. Rationally, I know that having the vape resting in my palm will not radically change my evening. Yet, without it, I’m already silently making emergency plans to find the nearest shop or exit altogether. I’m not alone; it seems as if everyone is vaping now. People are vaping in offices, shops and restaurants; walk down any major street and you’ll pass through a bubblegum-scented fog; step into any smoking area and you’ll see more Elf Bars than Marlboro Lights. Not to mention inside, where puffs of sweet vapour erupt from the dancefloor like geysers. It’s not illegal to
