Back when cigarette smoke extended only as far as your personal space.

People even smoked on the dancing floors in clubs at least in my city. Grinding there, pint in one hand, a ciggie in another.

Back in my childhood “it wasn’t me” was a legit excuse even when you completely smelled of cigarettes after having smoked some, because even non-smoker parents had a hard time telling with all the cigarette smell. Smelling clothes wouldn’t mean anything. Fingers, perhaps, if someone had just smoked.