Colourful geometric tattoo of a lipstick with a faceted gem base and dotted circle, placed on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lipstick with geometric gem on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A lipstick tube with a red-pink tip sits diagonally across the arm, with a faceted, gem-like base in purple and teal and a small heart cut into the gold band. A dotted circle and a few small dots surround the upper section, and a faint orange flourish sits to the left. Bold black outlines define the shapes, while the fills use vivid colour with soft shading.

Geometric Neo-trad Forearm Lipstick Gem Crystal Heart Dot Circle

Find an artist for this

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

The band has slid into the slow number, the one with the trombone that sounds like it is apologising, and you are still hovering by the cloakroom hatch with your coat half off. Maureen Pryce gives you the look over the rail. It means you have been standing there for three songs and someone is going to ask you to dance before you have decided whether you want them to.

Keep reading

In your handbag is the one thing you bought yourself this month: a lipstick in a coral that lasts for hours, paid for with a week of bus fares. Last night at the kitchen table, with your mother snoring upstairs, you glued a faceted stone of violet and teal onto the base, the sort of cut glass Mr Ashdown keeps in a biscuit tin for brooches. Then you pressed a tiny heart into the gold band with the point of a hatpin. It came out wonky, and you loved it anyway.

You take it out under the cloakroom bulb. The stone throws little prisms across the ceiling, and they shift every time you breathe. Above the floor the glitterball turns, and each time it passes, a dotted ring of light slides across the parquet and up the far wall, round and round, like someone drawing a circle they cannot finish.

You uncap the lipstick and put it on, then walk out past Maureen before she can say a word. Halfway across the floor a boy in a borrowed suit turns to ask for the next waltz, and you say yes before he has finished the question. Over his shoulder you catch yourself in the mirrored pillar, the tube glinting violet in your fingers. The trombone takes a breath, and so do you.