Okay, so right before Christmas, I heard about something that sounded almost too audacious to be true - that on the same day Chicago passed a sweeping new anti-smoking bill, the RJ Reynolds tobacco corporation decided to open what they're calling the Marshall McGearty Tobacco Lounge, a new "experiential marketing" retail store for the company, where they can promote high-end new brands in a smoker-friendly environment, much like cigar stores cultivate high-end clients as well. And then right after Christmas, I actually got a mailing from McGearty, offering me a free cup of coffee if I wanted to come down and check things out. And hey, hoity-toity cigarettes and free coffee? How can I say no to that? And besides, a bunch of you have mentioned how you wanted me to visit and file a report as well, since apparently this is the first and so far only store of its kind in the world right now.

So yesterday I finally ended up heading over there, unsurprisingly located in the middle of the oh-so-hip-it-hurts Wicker Park, right there on Milwaukee just a block south of Damen. And as you can see, it's not exactly done yet, although we should cut them a break; they did only open a month ago, after all, and right in the middle of the holiday season at that. And you can see immediately when you arrive what RJR is going for with this store - to present this retro, old-fashioned ideal with the place, which conveniently enough was when everyone still smoked and no one really knew the dangers, versus these days when admitting you're a smoker is like admitting that you enjoy stabbing babies. So that was smart of RJR, I thought, to go for a more 'timegone era' look and feel to the place, to remind people of when smoking was still a glamourous and fashionable thing.

So then you go in, and one of the very first things you notice is that all the employees are sexy, oh man, so sexy - although, granted, in this quirky "maybe they're from Europe or maybe they're a former heroin addict" kind of way. Which actually works, frankly, in the context of this store, so well in fact that it made me wonder if RJR specifically hired these people for that quirkily attractive look they all have. This is Amanda, by the way, who in this photo is actually rolling the pack of cigarettes I had just ordered, and which a few minutes later I'll be smoking. Cool! This is, in fact, the main gimmick to McGearty - that the nine brands of cigarettes they sell there come to the store in loose-leaf form, with each and every pack handrolled in front of a customer the moment they order it.

RJR, in fact, commissioned a brand-new type of rolling machine to be built for the store, which you're looking at in that photo - very modern, can roll 20 cigarettes at the same moment, pokes a hole in the filter for a smoother smoke, yet is ornate and made entirely out of wood and brass. Impressive, I'm tellin' ya, and especially impressive to see them in action. And then basically how the buying process works is that there are these nine types of preblended brands for you to choose from, with this fancy-ass paper menu at the place you can consult for descriptions - from very light to very heavy, both menthol and non. And so what I ordered, for example, was the heaviest smoke they supposedly offer, called "Muse" (which I love - the image, that is, of Erato standing behind some writer's shoulder in a toga, chain-smoking and puffing away on a cig). And sure enough, they were really good, easily comparable to a good pack of Nat Shermans or the like; and of course there's the whole gimmicky thrill of watching the pack actually getting made in front of you, which admittedly is much more fun and legitimately impressive than you would think at first. But then again, for eight bucks a pack (four pounds, six euros), it fucking better be, right?

Okay, so after getting settled, I decided to take a little tour of the grounds and snap off some photos for the website. And as you can see, instead of being the stuffy humidor cigar-style environment I thought it was going to be, McGearty instead looks exactly like a slighty beat-up hipster retro lounge, complete with working fireplace, stack of board games, and antique ashtrays on every table. And that's really cool, frankly, because those are the types of places I usually hang out at in Chicago, and makes the place feel more like a bistro or salon than retail store. And speaking of which, here's something I found funny; that despite them selling coffee, liquor and food, McGearty managed to get designated by the city as a retail tobacco establishment, which means they are completely and utterly exempt from this smoking ban that's set to go into place soon. Which, yeah, means that in about three years, it'll be one of the only places in the city on a Saturday night where you'll be able to get a drink and smoke inside. And I'm already wonderring if McGearty's success is going to inspire a whole cottage industry of copycats in Chicago? "Um, sure, yeah, we're a retail tobacco establishment! Just, uh, ignore that kitchen back there and all those waiters and busboys."

Okay, so after my little tour, I came back to the table where I had parked my stuff, where at that point Amanda came over with a nervous look on her face. "So, what do you think?" she asked.

"They're good," I said, looking down at the burning cigarette in my hand. "But I had a question, if you don't mind..."

"Oh, yeah, I saw you running around taking photos," she replied. "Everything's okay, right? There's not something wrong?"

Oops - oh yeah, that's right, I bet RJR is feeling a little, er, sensitive right now about the idea of opening up this lounge, right in the middle of the most violent anti-smoking sentiments this city has ever seen, and are probably on extra lookout for smartypants who walk in and immediately start snapping photos all over the place. So I explained who I was, and what my site was about and what I do here, and she seemed much more relaxed and agreed to answer some questions, as well as a woman named Christie (Kristie?), who is the store's marketing director. Although, I will say this - that of the two conversations I had with employees yesterday, I was reminded five separate times that they do not speak for RJR or for the store officially, to the point of making me realize that the staff were probably given an entire special training session before opening, just on how to deal with members of the press. And that was...well, interesting, let's say, without assigning any kind of moral value to such a thing, good or bad.

"So there haven't been any major problems with the store yet?" I asked. "No anti-smoking people hurling dye balloons at customers as they walk in or anything?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Christie laughed. "Just the usual problem of any new store, of simply getting the word out that we exist."

"Yeah," I said, "what's up with that? You guys still aren't listed at Google Local, and the store's website has all this crap you have to go through, where you have to prove you're 18 before you can even click through the front page."

"Yeah, I know, it's frustrating, isn't it?" Christie said. "But you know, there's all these regulations involved, and all these online rules we have to follow now. Everything has to be completely legal with us here, because..." She gave a small laugh. "Well, you know. There are lots of people watching this store very carefully, for obvious reasons."

"Yeah," I laughed along, "that doesn't surprise me."

"So, like," Christie continued, "we're planning on starting up a movie night here soon. And you know how most bars do movie nights - they just set up a VCR and rent a movie. But we're going through an actual company that does this, and that pays appropriate licensing fees and the whole thing."

"Oh," I said, "so are you guys planning on doing more social events? Are you going to sponsor bands, poetry shows, stuff like that?"

"As much as we possibly can!" Christie exclaimed. "It's just slow, that's all. There are so many steps involved, and three different companies actually in the decision-making process, and so many laws to be checked before each decision. I knew it was going to be that way before I got involved. That's just how it is."

"So, what, are you guys more like a full-fledged bar in the evenings?"

"Oh, no, not really. Well, we close at midnight, so we don't directly compete with bars at all, in the hours most important for bars. We're more like a hangout place - a place to meet up with your friends before dinner, or for an after-dinner drink and cigarette."

I turned to Amanda. "Okay," I said quietly, "just between you and me, how do you like actually working here? You're not having to deal with a bunch of annoying tobacco snobs every day, are you?"

She laughed. "Oh, no, not really," she said. "Cigar people every now and then - but actually, they mostly end up really getting interested in our cigarette process and the blends we've created, instead of being snobs about it. It's, you know, it's a nice place to work. I just moved here from Minnesota, to tell you the truth, so it's just nice to be in Chicago in the first place."

"Well, okay," I replied, knowing exactly what she meant. "And will you two answer a final question for me? I heard there's something special about your ventilation system here." I pointed up at what was obviously a pervasive and cutting-edge HVAC system over our heads.

"Oh yeah," Amanda said, "I think it's the most impressive thing about the place. It replaces the entire volume of air in the store with fresh air every 4.3 minutes."

"4.3 minutes?!" I exclaimed. "You're kidding me!"

"No, seriously! It was designed specifically for this store, in fact."

"By NASA scientists!" Christie added, laughing loudly, so I'm still not sure if that was a joke or if NASA scientists really did build the store's ventilation system; I could see RJR doing something ridiculously elaborate like that.

"It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" Amanda asked. "I can work here for eight hours, and still go home smelling a lot less like smoke than just, what, three hours in a bar at night."

"It's a great selling point," Christie concurred. "A place where your whiny smoker friends can smoke, but you don't smell like smoke yourself by the end of it all." (Well, okay, Christie didn't actually use the term 'whiny smoker friends' - that's my interjection, based on actual past experience.)

Okay, so that's my report, since I'm just about out of space today - cool, hip, laid-back, a complete thumbs-up from me. And hey, they even gave me my $8 cigarettes for free, and even did it before learning that I was writing a report about the place. (In fact, it was simply a thank-you for being a first-time customer.) How can you complain about that, I'm tellin' ya!