Colour traditional style tattoo of a woman in a patterned headband with pink and yellow flowers and a red rose, on the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Traditional woman portrait and rose on thigh

Traditional · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A woman's face in a patterned headband is framed by dark wavy hair, pink and yellow flowers, and hoop earrings. A large red rose with green leaves sits at the lower right of the design. The bold black outlines and flat, saturated colour fills are typical of the traditional style, and the design is shown on a thigh against a plain background.

Traditional Thigh Woman Portrait Rose Flower Headband Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The third time Mags Dolan climbed the pier steps with a red rose tucked behind her ear, Walter Pyle put down his brush and told her the eyes were wrong again. She laughed and sat on the painted stool anyway, one hand on the rail that smelled of tar and vinegar. Behind her the sea slapped at the struts and the shooting gallery bells rang for a boy who had hit the bullseye twice. "Make me look like I've got a secret," she said. "Everyone else in this town looks like they're waiting for a bus."

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He had painted her mother once, in the same booth, the summer before the war. Her mother had worn a striped headband with a zigzag border and had told him, firmly, that gold hoops were the only earrings worth wearing on a Saturday. Mags wanted the same headband, the same hoops, and a spray of pink and yellow flowers that she said she'd seen growing wild on the cliffs at Fleetwood. Walter mixed the reds himself, from a tin of cadmium he kept locked in the drawer under the cash box, because the shop-bought stuff went brown in the sun.

She came back on the last Sunday in September, when the donkeys had been walked off the sand and the booths were shuttering up one by one. The painting was propped against the back wall, still tacky along the edges. She looked at it for a long time, touched the corner of the frame, and said the rose was too bold for a girl who was only going to Leeds for a clerk's job. Walter said the rose was the only honest thing in the picture, because it would never be asked to behave.

He kept the canvas after she left, rolled and dry in the back of the van. Every August for years, when the sun came round the end of the pier, he unrolled it on the stool and let the red catch the light before anyone else on the front was awake.