Fine line black tattoo of a clothes hanger with the word fashion in cursive script and a small heart, on the forearm.

Fashion script on a clothes hanger

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black tattoo of a wire clothes hanger sits on pale skin, with the word fashion written in flowing cursive beneath the hanger's bar. A small heart is drawn at the end of the lettering, where the final stroke loops into it. The linework is thin and even, in solid black ink with no shading, and the design fills the frame from left to right against a dark background.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Heart Word

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 wire hanger had been bent by someone in a hurry, the hook twisted twice so it would sit on the rail above Mrs Dunn's counter, and Ada Pryce had never once straightened it. Every Friday she hung the week's finished dress from it and carried the lot down the hill to the Miners' Welfare, where the dance started at seven and the band never quite agreed on the key.

Keep reading

The shop had a name painted in gold over the window, a sign-writer's flourish that Mrs Dunn had paid three shillings for in 1938 and never once admitted was extravagant. Fashion, it said, the final letter running out into a little heart like a full stop that had changed its mind. Ada thought it was daft. Her customers were pit wives wanting taking-in and lads wanting their Sunday suits let out at the seams, and nobody in Harrow Bank had ever asked for fashion by name.

In the spring the colliery posted its notice on the Welfare door, and the band played the last waltz to a hall full of men who did not dance. Ada came down the hill anyway with the blue crêpe dress on its hanger, because it was paid for and because somebody ought to wear it. A girl from the top row took it off her hands with both palms open, the way you might lift a bird, and laughed at the heart on the sign-writer's lettering she had seen that morning through the window.

On the walk home Ada hooked the empty hanger over the garden gate, its crooked hook catching the lamplight. The word over the shop was still gold in the dark, and for once it seemed to mean her: a girl who had carried something lovely down a hill when everyone else was hauling coal back up it.