Neo-traditional tattoo of a woman's face framed by feathers and a teal gem headpiece, with a black cat beside her, on the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Woman with feathers and black cat on thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A woman's face with dark lips, heavy eyeliner and a teal gem set in a beaded headpiece dominates the design, framed by stylised feathers and swirling hair. A black cat sits in the lower right, with a feather motif running down the side of the thigh. Bold black outlines and solid black shading are combined with grey tones and a small amount of teal and pink on the gem and cheeks.

Neo-trad Thigh Woman Face Feather Gem Headpiece Cat Black cat Hair Swirl Jewellery Bead

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You have the cat before you have the name. It turns up under the stage door of the Blue Heron on a wet Thursday, all sodden fur and offended dignity, and sits on the step as if it has paid for the seat. Madame Ninette Varga, who runs the dance hall above the chip shop on Mill Street, says it belongs to nobody, which is what she says about most things she has decided to keep.

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You are her understudy, though the crowd only knows you as the girl with the green stone at her brow. The beaded band was her mother's, mended with jeweller's glue and a prayer. Every Saturday you stand in the wings while the feather fans rise behind you, and the cat watches from the piano lid with its tail wrapped round its paws, keeping time. Twice it has padded to the edge of the stage during the slow numbers, and the men at the bar have stopped talking to look.

The turn comes in March, when the power fails mid-waltz and the hall fills with candles and nerves. Ninette does not come down. Her chair is empty, her hairpins lie scattered on the boards, and the cat is gone too. You find them in the cellar among the old costume trunks, the cat curled on a heap of ostrich plumes, regarding you as if you were late.

You go up and dance the set in the dark, the band playing by lantern light, the stone catching whatever glow is left. Afterwards Ninette tells you the band was never hers to give, and the cat only ever followed whoever could dance. You keep the headpiece. The cat, you suspect, keeps you.