Black lettering tattoo in a vintage label design on the inside of a wrist, reading property of Alice's hen party, if found buy me a drink.

Hen party label on wrist

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A clenched hand is shown with a black ink design on the inner wrist. The design is a vintage-style label with small capitals, a large serif name, a script line, and two circled dates, framed by ruled lines. It is rendered in solid black ink on a plain white background with even lighting.

Forearm Lettering Wording Date Drink

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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 are the one who remembered the transfers, so you are the one stood at the bar of the Harwich night ferry at half eleven with a biro in one hand and a sheet of printed labels in the other. The bride has already been sick once on the car deck and called it a cleansing. Everyone else has a glass of something pink and a string of plastic tiaras, and the purser keeps glancing over as though he is counting the exits.

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Your job is simple: press each label flat onto a wrist and rub it with a thumb until the ink takes. Maureen from accounts wants her date in a circle. Shona wants nothing at all, so you give her the drink line twice and tell her it is a legal requirement. The circled dates are the day of the crossing and the day Denise swore she would never get married again, and it turns out they are the same day, which nobody has the nerve to point out until the bride does it herself.

Then the cabin lights dim, the engine note shifts under the floor, and Denise leans across the bar to read your handiwork upside down. She taps the words IF FOUND and laughs so hard she has to hold the rail. "Whoever finds me owes me a drink," she says, "and I'd like it to be the purser."

By the time the Dutch coast comes up grey through the porthole, the labels have faded to smudges on everyone's skin. You stand at the rail with the wind in your face and watch the lights of Hook of Holland slide closer. On the quay, a porter with a clipboard reads the words on Denise's wrist, grins, and asks which of you is buying.