Colourful tattoo of a girl holding an umbrella, in a loose watercolour-look style with paint splashes, on the outer thigh of a person in denim shorts.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Umbrella girl on a thigh

Thigh · Colour · Photo

A small figure of a woman in a red coat holds a blue umbrella, with a dark-haired silhouette and a trailing scarf or ribbon in pink and purple. Thin dark outlines define the figure, while the umbrella, splashes and washes of blue, orange and pink are loosely painted with soft edges. The design sits on the outer thigh against a bright green wall, with the person's hand and denim shorts visible at the edge of the frame.

Thigh Umbrella Girl Woman Splashes Paint splatter Figure

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 rain came down on Marrowgate Market the morning Ada Penhallow sold her last bolt of oilcloth, and the stallholders said it had been waiting for her. She had kept the stall forty years, under a canvas awning that leaked in three places, and she knew each drip by its sound. Her nephew Tomas wanted her to shut up shop and go to his flat in Leeds. She said she would go when the paint on the sky dried.

Keep reading

That was her joke, and nobody laughed at it. The sky over the square had gone the grey of wet slate, and the puddles between the cobbles had bloomed with spilt colour from the dye vats at the far end, blue and rust and a pink that smelled of cochineal. Ada had spent her life among those colours. She watched a girl in a red coat cross the square with a blue umbrella tipped against the wind, a pink scarf streaming out behind her like a ribbon of paint pulled from a brush. The girl did not hurry. She stopped at each puddle and looked down into it, as if reading something written there.

At noon the girl reached Ada's stall and asked for a yard of the oilcloth, the thin yellow kind that nobody bought any more. Ada cut it without a word. The girl paid in coins gone green at the edges, then folded the cloth into her coat and turned the umbrella into the weather. Ada watched her go until the colour was only a smear, and then the rain stopped, all at once, the way it does in stories and seldom in life. Ada looked up. The sky above the market was clean and pale, and somewhere a drip was still falling, slow and steady, into the bucket she had forgotten to move.