Colour neo-traditional tattoo of pink carnations and green foliage tied with a jewelled bow, on the upper thigh.

Carnation bouquet with bow on thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows a bouquet of pink carnations with green buds and leaves, tied at the base with a pink bow set with a faceted pink gem. Bold black outlines define the petals, bow and stems, with white highlights along the petal edges. Bright pink, red and green inks dominate, with small scattered dots of orange and green added around the flowers for texture.

Neo-trad Botanical Thigh Carnation Bouquet Flower Bow Gem Leaves Bud

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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 officer at the Dover booth unpicks the cellophane with a gloved thumb and holds the bunch up to the strip light, as though the carnations might be hiding something. You have stood at the window since half past six with the stems wrapped in damp paper, and the pink bow has gone limp at one loop. "Anything to declare?" she asks. You say only flowers, bought from the stall under the arches in Lille at closing time, when the man selling them halved the price and threw in the ribbon for nothing.

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She counts the blooms, five full heads and a cluster of buds, then taps the gem at the centre of the bow with the tip of her pen. It gives a small note, like glass. "Paste," she says, not unkindly. "Your florist was having you on." You laugh, and that surprises you, because for three days you have carried the bouquet the way you might carry a full cup across a moving train. The gem was the reason you bought it. It caught the light on the platform at Lille, and you thought of your sister's kitchen window, the one that never quite shut.

She runs a finger along the black outline of a petal, checking for something you cannot see, then hands the bunch back and shakes the water from her glove. "Pretty," she says, and nods you through the gate. Outside the rain has stopped. The car park smells of diesel and cut stems, and you tuck the flowers under your arm, already working out how long they will last if you change the water each night. Carnations, the stallholder told you, will go a fortnight if you keep them cool.