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 wasn’t just high school; this style existed around me in college with wall hangings, blacklight posters, and a designated “chill” room in their one-too-many-people-on-the-lease apartments. To be a regular cannabis user was to be a holdover hippie and that extended to the pieces used. Big, giant bongs with fifty percolators, or acrylic pieces that looked like tourist drinks from the Vegas strip, or a glass-blown orange and aquamarine hand pipe the length of a salami— its name was probably “Dave” or something.

I thought, “that’s what it is to be in weed culture. That’s what it is to enjoy cannabis.” If you smoke more than just at parties when

Read more from our friends at High Times