Realistic pink roses with green leaves and a black lace border tattooed on the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink roses and lace on a thigh

Realism · Thigh · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows two large pink roses with shaded petals and fine detail, set among green leaves. A black lace border with floral motifs frames the roses at the top and bottom, with a sprig and lace detail above them. The shading is smooth, and the vivid pink and green stand out against the black linework on the outer thigh of a person wearing red.

Realism Botanical Thigh Rose Lace Leaves Flower Sprig

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lace came off the Hesper in Valparaíso, folded inside a tin of biscuits gone soft with damp, and I have kept it flat under my bunk ever since so the sea cannot get into it. You will laugh at me for writing about a scrap of lace when there are four hundred miles of southern ocean between us and the next dry thing, but Mr Thorne swore it was Nottingham work, and I believed him, because he has never once told me a lie that cost him nothing.

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We were eleven weeks out before the roses came into it. Pinned to the galley wall was a picture Cook had cut from a seed catalogue, two pink roses gone brown at the edges, and every man aboard stopped to look at it on his way to the pump. Dunlop said they were the colour of a boiled sweet, which earned him a bucket of seawater, and I said nothing at all. I drew them over the next watch on the back of a chart, first in pencil and then in the ink we use for the logbook, and when I held the sheet up to the lamp the shading was almost right.

On the last night of the blow I gave the drawing to Thorne. He studied it a long time, then rolled up his trouser leg, took a sail-needle from his collar and began to prick the outline into his thigh, lace first, then the petals, until the skin was raw and he was swearing softly at the lamp. He said a sailor ought to carry something water cannot spoil. By morning the sun had come up over the cliffs at the Horn, and when he showed me, the roses were already there, pink as cut fruit, lace curling round them like frost on a rail.