Colour tattoo of a geisha with pink blossoms in her hair and a blue patterned kimono with a black star, in Japanese style on a forearm.

Geisha with blossoms on a forearm

Japanese · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A woman in profile with downcast eyes, red eyeshadow and pink blossoms woven into her hair, shaded in soft realistic tones on the skin. Black outlines define the hair, flowers and star, while the blue patterned kimono and a red and orange floral band sit along the lower part of the design. The tattoo is photographed on a forearm against a plain black background.

Japanese Realism Forearm Geisha Blossom Cherry blossom Kimono Star Woman Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had found its way under the awning by nine, and the silk cherry blossoms on my stall were already drooping on their wires. I was dabbing them dry with a tea towel when the woman from the fish stall next door shouted that someone wanted a hairpin. Nobody asked for hairpins on a Tuesday in February. I went out with my umbrella held the wrong way round, and there was a lad of maybe nineteen in a blue waterproof, holding a clutch of pink paper flowers as if they might bite him.

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"They're for my nan," he said. "She wore them to the dance halls on the front, forty years back. She wants the one with the star." I knew the one. It was a brass pin with a tiny enamelled star at its tip, which I had bought from a jeweller clearing out in Hull and never sold, because nobody comes to a blossom stall asking for a star. I wrapped it in tissue paper, and he paid in coins still warm from his pocket.

The next morning the nan came herself, slow along the wet cobbles with a walking stick and a plastic bag over her hair. She didn't buy anything. She looked at my blossoms for a long while, then pressed a folded sash into my hands, faded to the colour of weak tea, with blue waves stitched along one edge. "For the one who keeps the flowers," she said, and was gone up the arcade before I could argue.

That evening I hung the sash from the stall pole. The rain beaded on the blue stitching and rolled off it without soaking in, which is more than I can say for the paper flowers.