The Marlborough Man may be dead as the dust at the Acropolis, but his legacy lives on strong in Greece. In almost every pocket or handbag is a red and white deck of the iconic American brand of smokes. The men saunter down Athlion Street thumbing their stone komboloi with one hand, their lighters with the other as they check out the female real estate. Women yak on the phone, holding their purses to their shoulders with a pinkie, turning their heads to snatch a drag from the cigarette held between two stained fingers. A nattily attired dude sporting matching tan sweater and slippers-shoes lounges on his snazzy scooter. On the grimy marble-curbed sidewalk outside the Syntagma Square subway stop in Athens, a rough-skinned woman in…

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