Colourful watercolour-style tattoo of Alice in a blue dress holding an umbrella, with pink and teal splashes, on the upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Alice with umbrella on upper back

Back · Colour · Photo

A woman's upper back shows a tattoo of Alice in a blue dress with yellow hair, holding a striped umbrella, with a small bird or insect near the top. Loose, sketchy black linework sits over soft washes of pink, teal and blue, with splashes spreading outwards. The design is centred on the back, with the figure in the lower half and the small motif at the top.

Back Alice Umbrella Dress Bird Splashes Watercolour Hair

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been falling since the last tram, and I was still up a stepladder outside the closed laundrette on Carver Street, trying to finish the lettering before the paint ran. Mrs Okafor wanted her name in gold leaf by dawn. I had pink for the capitals, teal for the shadows, and a bucket of blue I'd mixed too thin.

Keep reading

That was when the girl appeared under the pavement lamp. Yellow hair tied back with a ribbon, a blue dress that looked soaked at the hem, and a striped umbrella she held open even though she was dry as a bone. "You've missed the O," she said, pointing up at me. "Mind the drip." I looked, and I had. A coil of teal had sagged off the bowl of the letter. Before I could curse, she tilted the umbrella, and the rain ran off it in ribbons, and the paint went with it, spattering the pavement into a spray of colour like fireworks going off low down.

"You can't just stand there," I said. "This is a shop." "It's a door," she said, and she was right, because the laundrette had shrunk to a doorway no wider than a bookcase, and the rain had stopped. She stepped through with the umbrella furled. Something small with the rust of an old penny lifted from her shoulder, flew up to the gutter, and settled there.

By morning Mrs Okafor's sign read OKAFOR'S, every letter crisp and gold-edged, and nobody mentioned the O, which had been finished in a blue so bright it seemed to hum. Above the door a small bird sat on the gutter, watching the street as if it had paid for the view. When it rains I still see those splashes drifting out from the letters, and I never once mixed that shade again.