Realistic peacock feather tattoo on the outer thigh, with a teal, purple and gold eye at the top and grey shaded plumes running down the leg.

Peacock feather on the outer thigh

Realism · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A peacock feather runs from the upper outer thigh down towards the knee. The eye at the top is coloured in teal, purple, gold and pink, with soft blended shading. The lower plumes are rendered in black and grey with fine, detailed linework and smooth tonal gradients.

Realism Thigh Peacock feather Feather Peacock eye

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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

Sit down, sit down, the kettle has only just gone off and the lorry queue will not move before dark. You want the story of the feather? Then you will have to hear about Mirela Dorn, who came up to the booth at Calais with a hatbox on her knee and nothing inside but a peacock feather wrapped in tissue paper. The officer that night was Tadeusz, a man with a moustache like a yard brush, and he opened every box in the car. When he reached hers, he lifted the tissue and went very still.

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She told him the feather was paperwork, nothing more, sold by the pound to milliners in Lille. But the feather had come from a bird kept behind a garden wall, a bird that screamed at the moon and would only take seed from the hand that fed it. The eye at the top was the colour of a midnight sea with a gold ring round it, and a pink flush at the edge like a sunset that had lost its way. Tadeusz had not looked at anything properly in eleven years. He held the feather to the lamp and the bulb caught in the blue, and for a moment the booth smelled of rain on a church roof.

He stamped her papers and let her through. He wrote nothing in his ledger. Some winters later, the story goes, a woman in a green coat came to that same window with a hatbox of her own and asked for Tadeusz by name. The feather she laid on the counter had no eye left in it at all, only grey plumes curling down to the bare quill.

Right, the lorries are moving now. Take your ticket and mind the step on the way out.