You know inking has gone mainstream when the media are buzzing about Justin Bieber’s latest tattoo of an owl on his forearm. Okay, I’m slightly exaggerating, but body art has become the latest fashion accessory, spreading its growing array of styles and colours to all parts of the body. Maybe I’m an ol’ fashioned kinda gal but I’m not drawn to getting inked. The idea of having the same tattoos until I die holds no appeal. The pain factor is also a deterrent.
Call me shallow but I’ve been watching X-Factor. One of the contestants has a good voice but I am fixated more on his heavily inked head than his singing and am thinking, “Ouch, that must have hurt“. And last summer I worked with a young woman who had the tops of both feet tattooed with tributes to her mother and father. Youch. She could barely walk for two weeks.
With inking parlors popping up on every corner it’s no wonder the industry has been hit with a new phenomenon- mispellings. Imagine the pain of having new art etched on your back only to discover that the artist can’t spell. Now that’s an embarrassment that’s hard to erase. But, each to their own. I’d rather celebrate the impermanence fashion can offer with new hair styles and eyewear.