DETROIT'S FINEST STILL ROLLING
DETROIT'S FINEST STILL ROLLING
by Dora Randall - Photographed by Sven Creutzman
THE unique contemplative pleasure of smoking a Havana cigar should never be taken lightly. Whilst the lucky few indulge in this luxury on an enviably regular basis, they never allow familiarity to breed contempt. However many cigars one smokes, one never tires of the gentlemanly—or ladylike—anticipation of extracting one's chosen cigar from the humidor.
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DETROIT DOWAGERS
DETROIT DOWAGERS
Running on a wing and a prayer
Text by Christopher Baker Photographs by Sven Creutzmann

Driving through Holguín province recently, I passed an antediluvian automotive abuelo, dead as a dinosaur, stopped in the middle of the road in the middle of nowhere. Time itself seemed to have stopped on the carretera midway between Bayamo and Veguitas. The curvaceous Chevy Bel-Air stared me down with its acres of bechromed grinning grillwork. Its hood was propped open while two men peered into the engine. A third lay half-hidden beneath the car. They were still there, frozen like museum pieces, when I zoomed by in the other direction three hours later.
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