So the government is finally banning disposable vapes. Thank goodness for that. Not that I welcome prohibition as a concept, but without a legal intervention to remove the temptation I fear I’ll never be able to quit.
It’s not just children who risk getting addicted to vaping. At the supposedly sensible age of 30 I succumbed to the lack of impulse control encouraged by these delicious, dangerous items lurking behind the checkout of every London supermarket and corner shop.
I can remember the first disposable vape I ever bought. It was two years ago, summer in Amsterdam, a holiday with friends. I’d been curious when one of our party had produced an Elf Bar from their hand luggage after the flight. So when I ducked into a corner shop to buy some Haribo Happy Peaches, a peach-flavoured vape caught my eye. The perfect pairing for a river cruise.
It would be trite to say that I’ve been hooked ever sense. It was a slow burn thing, much like I imagine my lung tissue is being eroded piece by piece. First it was something to do with my hands on my walk to work. A convenient prop when waiting for a friend. A return to the camaraderie of the club smoking area.
Then one day you’re reaching for your vape before you’re even out of bed. Grabbing for it at times of stress. Sneaking a cheeky puff in a restaurant bathroom. Cold panic clutching at you when you scrabble for one lost in a pocket or bag.
But I didn’t accept I was, you know, addicted to vaping until I returned to Amsterdam earlier this year. The now all-to-familiar heart sinking feeling of realising I had run down the pathetic battery in my disposable vape. But in the corner shops, no welcome array of candy-coloured cloud sticks awaited me. The Dutch government banned the sale of flavoured e-cigarettes from 1st January 2023.
My damascene moment involved a clandestine negotiation with the shop owner where I was led into a back room and offered a box of contraband vapes. A foul watermelon mint flavour that burned my throat with shame.
How had I let myself get this far? I’m vegetarian for climate reasons, have never owned a car, wash my yoghurt pots out before I recycle, buy all my clothes — bar underwear — second hand.
The idea that a battery could ever be classed as disposable is abhorrent. I know that lithium should be as far away from landfill as possible. That mining it pollutes the landscape of South America, pumping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, drying up reservoirs and poisoning the soil.
But under the desk in my bedroom is a cotton tote bag filled with dead disposable vapes. Because I couldn’t admit that I am addicted, I never switched over to a rechargeable e-cigarette system. Even then, the chemicals and the plastic waste from refills would be unconscionable.
Now I truly have the fear. Stories about battery fires breaking out in recycling lorries and vapes exploding on planes break me out in cold sweats. Every time a climate change horror story hits the news — overpowered hurricanes from heating seas, rapidly collapsing carbon sinks — I squirm with guilt that my stupid cravings for fruity clouds of nicotine is contributing to the problem.
Then there’s the nasty mystery of what I could be doing to my health. Juul Labs has started paying out settlements of thousands of dollars to its customers, following a successful lawsuit alleging the company had failed to provide accurate information about the safety and addictiveness of their product. It’s too early to know what the long-term effects on my lungs will be, but it can’t be good.
The recycling bin at Tesco is always overflowing, so at least I know I’m not alone. Friends who have quit proudly share their recommendations for apps and audiobooks that helped them kick the habit. One fellow vape-addicted pal admits they’ve been signing every petition going to lobby the Government for this ban.
Without it, we know we wouldn’t stop.
Nicotine may be wildly addictive, but I am a complete sucker for branding and design. I love the colourful little tubes that fit so neatly in my palm. A brief flirtation with menthol cigarettes ended easily in 2016, once the cute iridescent packaging of a pack of Vogues was banned by the UK’s plain packaging laws. Thanks to the 2020 menthol cigarette ban, I couldn’t go back if I tried.
Removing temptation works. If only we didn’t have to wait until next summer to be delivered from it.
