Bruno Mars smells like wealth. And cigarettes. The former is due to some impossibly expensive fragrance he undoubtedly had made custom, the kind with “top notes of Artemisia” and “base notes of cedar, musk and amber.” The latter because, well, he smokes, though at the insistence of his mother, he’s trying to quit … sort of.
“She wants me to, but she told me not to try those electronic cigarettes,” he laughs, removing his coat inside New York’s Carnegie Club (one of the few places in the city where you actually can still smoke). “She’s like ‘Stay away from them … they explode!’ And I’m going ‘Okay mom, whatever you say.’ Because, you know, you gotta listen to your mother.” READ MORE