It started in a cold Yorkshire drawer in the 1980s. Five-year-old me, bored and restless on a rainy British afternoon, prising open a stuck mahogany cabinet in search of a treasure map. What I found instead were a handful of curious brown sticks wrapped in cellophane — my father's old cigars, remnants of a bachelor life I never knew. My mother shut that down immediately. My fascination, however, never quite went away. Then came the 80s and 90s. Bond, Hannibal Smith, Arnie, St
