Close view of a black and red harlequin diamond tattoo on the outer thigh of a person bending forward, in a bold geometric style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Harlequin diamond tattoo on a thigh

Geometric · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A person leans forward on a bed, with a large harlequin-style diamond pattern tattooed on the outer thigh. The diamonds are solid black and dark red with crisp, hard edges and flat fills, and the tattoo sits against plain skin. The face is out of frame, and the composition is cluttered with a patterned blanket, a red shirt and a dark skirt around the subject.

Geometric Thigh Diamond Pattern

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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

You want to hear about the suit with the diamonds, then sit yourself down, because my knees have opinions about standing. Forty winters I mended sails in Porthgwidden, and the troupe that came off the Penzance boat one February wanted a harlequin coat stitched before the Saturday fair. Diamonds, they said, black and oxblood, each one the size of a child's palm, with edges sharp enough to make a fool look like a surgeon.

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I had sailcloth, not silk, and I told them so. Their leader, a thin man called Ansel who kept his hat on indoors, laughed and said a patchwork fool needs no fine cloth, only a good eye. So I cut the diamonds by lantern light, pinned them with my sailmaker's palm, and sewed every seam flat so it would not ride up when he tumbled. Three nights of it. On the third my needle went clean through my thumb and I bled onto the black wool, and Ansel said that was luck. I did not believe him, but I did not unpick it either.

The fair came and went, and Ansel never came back for the coat. Eleven years later a boy off that same boat knocked at my door with a parcel in brown paper. Inside was the coat, washed, every diamond still crisp at the edge, and a note in cramped capitals: THE LEFT ONE IS YOURS. I went and looked, and there, under the seam, was a faint rust-brown stain I'd forgotten I'd made. Mind the step on your way out, it's loose.