Neo-traditional tattoo of a black lace bow with a pink cameo centre and red ribbon tails on the lower leg.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lace bow with pink cameo on a lower leg

Neo-trad · Calf · Mixed · Photo

A black lace bow with a white scalloped frame and pink cameo at its centre sits on the outside of a lower leg. The lace pattern is rendered in fine black linework with dotted highlights, while the ribbon tails are shaded in red and pink with soft grey gradients. The bow is centred in the frame against plain skin and a light towel.

Neo-trad Calf Bow Lace Cameo Ribbon Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The band has reached its third number and the floor is already a crush of sailors' heels and swinging hems. You stand by the cloakroom hatch with your back to the radiator, tugging at the black lace bow your aunt tied at your throat, because it has slipped twice since the tram. The pink cameo at its centre belonged to her mother, a carved shell with a woman's profile worn smooth by handling, and on the bus she made you promise to bring it home.

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Somebody asks you to dance before you have decided whether to say yes. He is tall, smells of Brylcreem and hot irons, and steers you through a foxtrot without once looking at his feet or yours. Each turn lifts the ribbon tails behind you, and they fan out like something waking up. Halfway through the second tune the pin gives way, and you feel the cameo leave the lace, but the music doesn't stop and neither do you.

When the floor thins out for the Lambeth Walk, you find him on his knees beside the potted palm, the brooch turned face up on his flat palm. He doesn't hand it over straight away. He asks what the woman in the shell is looking at, and you tell him the truth, that you have never known, that your aunt says she is looking at the sea. He says the sea seems a fair guess, then pins the cameo back through the lace with two careful fingers, the one part of the night you could never have managed yourself.

Outside, the wind off the harbour catches the ribbon tails and lifts them clear of your legs. The bow goes crooked on the walk to the tram stop, and you let it stay that way. Your aunt will want to know who fixed it, and you already know you will tell her the truth.