Black ink lace garter tattoo with a bow sitting around the upper thigh, with a hand resting on a person's head beside it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lace garter tattoo with bow on thigh

Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A tattoo of a lace garter with a bow and scrolling floral lace pattern wraps around the upper thigh. The linework is dark and detailed, with some shading in the lace, and the design is set against bare skin in a softly lit indoor scene. The composition centres on the thigh, with a partly visible hand and a head of dark hair at the edge of the frame.

Thigh Garter Lace Bow Floral Skin

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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

Dear Walter, the frame went quiet on Tuesday when Mr Hallam sold the last of the Leavers machines to a dealer from Calais, and I stood among the empty bays with your old bobbin tin in my apron pocket, listening to nothing at all. The floor smells of machine oil still, and of the bleach from the finishing shed. I thought you would want to know that the cards are going to the bonfire at the end of the month unless someone claims them.

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Aunt Ida kept the pattern book under her bed for thirty years. Most of it is ordinary: fern runs, a Brussels net trim, a hundred variations on the rose. But on the last page she drew a bow, a little knot of looped ribbon sitting on a band of scrolling leaves, and she worked it so finely that the net looks like it could be lifted off the paper. Under it she wrote only, For the one who wears it home. I asked her once who that was meant to be, and she laughed and said a girl who had been promised something.

I took the card down to Mrs Pell's on Derby Road this morning, the one who still has a treadle and a steady hand. She held it to the window for a long time and then asked if I wanted the bow cut as a stencil or left in ink. I said ink. She pricked the outline with a pin while I watched, and when she laid it across the old tin lid it sat down exactly where Ida must have meant it to, the leaves curling round the rim as though the tin had been waiting for them all along.