Close photo of a small, thin black line tattoo of a clothes hanger on the back of a person's neck, in a fine line style.

Clothes hanger tattoo on the back of the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A small clothes hanger is drawn in a single thin black line on the back of the neck, with its hook at the top and its triangular base below. The linework is clean and even, and the design is in solid black ink with no shading or colour. The tattoo sits centrally in the frame, with hair falling around the neck and a dark top visible below, while two hands with painted pink and blue nails hold the hair and collar.

Fine line Neck Outline Line art

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

Mind the step, it's loose and always has been. Sit where I can see you, because I only tell this one once a season. The hangers, you're asking? Every room at Saltcote had four, cheap wire things from a laundry in Hove, and not one of them ever stayed put. Guests walked off with them in their cases. My husband reckoned we ran the only boarding house on the coast that paid for its own coat stands twice over.

Keep reading

Then came Marjorie Fenn, the summer of the big storm, with one cardboard suitcase and a tin of pencils. She took the attic room under the sloping ceiling and paid a week ahead in coppers. She hung nothing up. Each morning her clothes sat folded on the chair as if she expected to leave on the next tide. On the fifth day the wind tore the back gate off its hinges, and when I took her a towel I found her one wire hanger, bent at the hook, looped over the bedpost with a cardigan on it. She'd straightened the wire herself. 'A thing that's been folded all day ought to be let go of properly at night,' she said, and that was the most I ever got out of her.

She left on a Tuesday without a word about where she was going. The room stood empty until October, and the hanger stayed where she'd put it, turning a little every time someone slammed the front door. I never had the heart to throw it out. Now the girls who come up for the season make a fuss of it and ask what it's for, and I tell them it holds whatever you're carrying until you're ready to put it down.