Black and white photo of a woman in a studded black bodysuit with a rose tattoo on her thigh, an ornate design on her other thigh, and a partial tattoo on her upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rose and ornate thigh tattoos with studded garters

Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a woman's torso and thighs, with her face cropped out of frame. She wears a black bodysuit with studded cups, a spiked choker and studded garters on her thighs. A rose tattoo with shaded petals sits on one thigh, and a larger ornate design is on the other, both in soft greyscale shading.

Thigh Upper arm Rose Spike Garter

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 last stud was still in Nell's mouth when the dresser came back from the loo with the news that the dancer's garter had split again. "Tell her ten minutes," Nell said round the pins. She had forty rivets in a tobacco tin, a pair of pliers with the handles taped, and a rose cut from brass sheet that had taken her three nights to file. The rose was meant to sit at the centre of a strap, ringed by a band of tiny cones, so that under the stage lights it would look like something a sensible woman had chosen to be dangerous.

Keep reading

Nobody in the Leeds workshop had asked her to make it pretty. Gerald, the director, wanted spikes, a bad dream about a Victorian hatpin. Nell had given him spikes, and then, quietly, a rose, because the costume was for a dyeing-works version of Carmen set in 1911, and a rose was what the girls wore tucked behind the ear when the foreman wasn't looking. Gerald hadn't noticed. Nobody ever noticed the thing you did for yourself, which was, she suspected, the point.

At quarter to eight she pressed the last rivet home and the rose sat flat and cold against her palm. She rang the dressing room. The strap went out on a girl who had never heard of the dyeing works, and the house lights dropped, and from the wings Nell watched the brass catch the gold of the follow spot and throw it back across the stalls in a small bright flicker, like a match struck in the dark and then forgotten.