Black and grey neo-traditional tattoo of a woman in profile with a sculpted updo and wing detail, on the outer thigh.

Profile of a woman with a wing on the thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A woman's profile faces left, with a sculpted updo, a fan-shaped earring and a dark feathered wing curving beneath her neck. The linework is bold and the hair and wing are filled with solid black, while the skin tones are softened with grey shading. The design sits centrally on the upper thigh against a plain, slightly out-of-focus background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, sit down, and mind the spilt lemonade by your boot. The Palais on Cardigan Road had a floor so polished the dancers could see their own shoes in it, and on Thursdays a girl called Ida Marsh came up the back stairs with her hair already pinned into that great sculpted shell at her nape. The hairdresser swore those pins would outlast the war, and she was nearly right.

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Ida had two things she cared for. One was a brass earring cut like a fan, a gift from a bandleader called Walter Penhallow, who played the trumpet with his eyes shut and wrote her letters in pencil on the backs of set lists. The other was a black ostrich plume she wore sewn to a silk cape for the Saturday revue, a feather fan that swept out behind her shoulder when she turned. Walter used to say that when she danced, the plume was the only thing in the room moving slower than the music.

In the spring of 'thirty-nine the letters stopped. The band played on regardless, and on the last Saturday before the blackout a man came in off the rain asking for Ida by name. Nobody told him she was already standing at the top of the stairs, in her cape, with the earring swinging and the plume trailing down behind her like a dark wing folding shut. She did not come down. She only turned her head, left, toward the doors and the wet street, and held that profile for as long as it took the trumpet to find its last note.

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