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It all started this year when I wanted to buy a bong. Not just any bong. A nice bong, a pretty bong, a bong I could leave out on the table without a second thought when company came over.
I wanted a grown-up bong.
But where to procure such an item? And did this item exist? What was the object and design side of “weed culture” now?
To start from the beginning, I didn’t start smoking until I was in college. And, even then, I was two years into my degree before I tried it. But cannabis had been around me since I was fourteen, and just an adorable straight-edge little thing who observed instead of imbibed. And, man, did I observe. Up until my 30’s, I would have described “stoners” by the environment they created around them; not by the amount they smoked (or ate). A stoner, in my experience, wore tie-dyes and baggy hats. Maybe tried to rock some Rastafarian colors on a poncho hoodie. They had long hair, hemp necklaces, weed patches, and listened to Phish. This…
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