I never understood what it meant to smell like cigarette smoke until I spent my first night away from home at college for undergrad.  As I hung my clothes in the campus provided chifferobe, I noticed that everything from my favorite denim jacket to the duffel bag I carried it in smelled like I had been hanging in a back alley pool hall.  Now I understood why past boyfriends had always suspected that I had been in a bar all night or why classmates in high school would always assume I had a lighter. I never could smell it until I actually moved out of my house.  The problem is that I didn’t even smoke, but I did live in a house with parents who had smoked all of my life.