I felt a mixture of annoyance and relief when I bought my first non-disposable Elf Bar last weekend, ahead of the disposable vape ban. Relieved, because to all intents and purposes, the new vape is identical to the old one. It looks the same, tastes the same and costs the same. The only difference is that when you give it a tug, a ‘reusable’ pod slides out. Annoyed, because after all the fuss over the ban over the past few years – panicked headlines, furious parents, relentless lobbying – vaping is effectively unchanged. What a waste of time and energy.
In the next few days, a third emotion started to creep in: fear. I can’t be the only one to have noticed that the new vapes are just as delicious and, in practice, as disposable as the old ones. I can already picture the shock, horror and outrage of the anti-vape coalition as they realise it too. Now instead of claiming victory and moving on to their next target, they will double down and push for a total ban.
That is the state of play in China, birthplace of the Elf Bar. These vapes, launched in 2018 by Chinese entrepreneur Zhang Shengwei’s Shenzhen iMiracle, are banned in the country that makes them. Not that this has held the company back: 2.5 million are sold each week in Britain alone.
The second battle in the war on vapes is already under way. Proposals for bland, flavourless, sludge-coloured vapes, bereft of the joy and pleasure of their predecessors, are being considered by the government.
If the anti-vape coalition wins this round, I fear I’ll be forced back to cigarettes. I have, in all fairness, always preferred the look of old-fashioned smoking. Cigarettes are sexy, chic and still very cool. The fact that I gave that up for the unglamorous act of puffing on a plastic tube is frankly a testament to human ingenuity. After a somewhat unscientific yet deeply rigorous analysis of my own behaviour, I’ve concluded that my addiction (sorry, commitment) stems from the double dose of dopamine vaping delivers: the nicotine hit and the intensely sweet flavour that accompanies it. From Blueberry Sour Raspberry to Peach Ice or Blue Razz Lemonade, you can take your pick. What a time to be alive.
To think they want to take this away from us. Vaping is the only vice I can enjoy without even a tinge of guilt. Chocolate, tequila, lazy mornings, reality TV: all intensely enjoyable and all accompanied by that castigating voice reminding me that I really can’t go on like this forever. Not vaping. It is exempt.
The first few puffs in the morning after a good overnight break (it’s called ‘intermittent vaping’, thank you very much Tim Spector) are pure, unadulterated joy. No guilt and absolutely no desire ever to stop. In fact, the longer you hold out for the first vape of the day, the better. It is so sacred that it must be enjoyed in solitude. There is nothing worse than waiting 16 hours for a quiet moment alone with a vape, only to have an overcaffeinated colleague stride over with a banal question about how my morning is going. Awful now, thanks.
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