Keith Richards’ bizarre smoking scandal at the New York Public Library
The reputation of debauchery in music isn’t conjured up from thin air. Some of the anecdotes that have been attributed to the industry being hope to sex, drugs and rock and roll feel more suited to a collection of x-rated Dr Seuss stories than in between the hardbacks of a memoir. And of all the bad boys of rock and roll, Keith Richards has garnered a reputation for being perhaps the most resilient.
As we plunge further into 2025 and Richards lights up what must be nearing his millionth cigarette, he seems impervious to the pitfalls of rock hedonism. But he’s always been the loveable rogue of rock debauchery, steering away from frightening levels of danger exhibited by Iggy Pop, who was building a dark reputation of shock and awe, with rumours swirling that he would kill himself on stage at one point.
Richards was more tongue-in-cheek, leaning into the upbeat fun to be had both playing music and taking your off-stage antics to the extreme. As such, the image of him in 21st-century culture has allowed him to play a strung-out pirate alongside Johnny Depp, and then carry his rum-addled pirate aesthetic on stage with The Rolling Stones whenever they tour their greatest hits all over the world. In many ways, he’s become the romantically disgraceful uncle of modern music.
So when he spoke at the main branch of the New York Public Library, on the October 29th, 2010 to promote his new memoir Life it seemed as though the noteworthy anecdotes were between covers and all we’d have left is a cheeky cigarettes smoking uncle. But what instead happened was the swift demise of an orchid.
After Richards was given a tour of the premises, he was invited to sit backstage n the office of Marie d’Origny, deputy director of the library’s Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers before reading to a public audience. As D’Origny returned to her office, she found Richards’s grin lost in a billow of cigarette smoke. Stuck between courtesy and horticulture, Richards decided to at least open a window, unaware that the cold air would only expedite the death of the deputy director’s orchid. When the anecdote was shared in the library’s blog, it was said that “between the cold and the smoke, the little orchid never stood a chance”.
In the four days that followed, the Orchid’s 12 white flowers fell from the stem like the ash from Richards’ cigarette, and its life was finally deemed over. While it isn’t quite the memento the library wished to take home, all employees of the library described Richards as “very much a gentleman” and, in D’Origny’s words, not at all “the devilish rock star”.
While the orchid itself could no longer stand as a representation of where the famous rock star sat in the office, there was a hidden token of memorabilia that now sits as a sort of poetic reminder of events that day. As if he knew what would happen, Richards autographed the clay saucer the plany was sitting in, which he had used as an ashtray. “He extinguished the cigarette in the sign of the cross and signed it, ‘Thanks, Keith Richards, 2010,'” D’Origny said.
Sitting opposite the great guitarist and sharing a cigarette certainly isn’t for the faint of heart. But the orchid out up a good four day fight, which is more than I could possibly wish to last.
