I fell in the love with the work of Claudia De Sabe at my first tattoo convention in Brighton. I have wanted to get tattooed by her ever since. I managed to get on her waiting list at the Jolie Rouge, London, last year and I had a consultation with her at the end of last year. My one inspiration: a lamp.
This is all I told her at my consultation and, of course, where I would like it positioned –the inner top of my left arm.
After my consultation, an appointment was booked for 10 January 2012. And I didn’t see the beautiful drawing until then – the grand unveiling of my beautiful vintage-inspired lamp.
The amazing thing about this design is it captures both of Claudia’s styles in one tattoo. The beautifully intricate and vintage nature of the shade, then the Japanese-inspired base. It’s just perfect and I loved the stencil instantly.
Claudia was also so lovely when she was tattooing me, so friendly and concerned about how comfortable I was. It was actually a really lovely experience.
I decided to let Claudia pick the colours, too. I hadn’t quite decided. And I am so glad I left it to her because I couldn’t be happier with the finished tattoo…
I saw this girl and her intricate and delicate tattoo a couple of times in the crowds at the convention. I finally tracked her down at the Tattoo Workshop stand and managed to get this gorgeous picture. The tattoo is by Saira Hunjan.
For the past month, Cosmo readers, blog followers, friends, family, boyfriends, pets and anyone else forced to click on the link, have been voting for their favourite (and hopefully soon to be award-winning) bloggers. It wasn’t until this evening that the enormity of it all hit me.
I have been up against some stiff competition (THERE’S 11 OTHER BLOGGERS IN THE LIFESTYLE CATEGORY – and they’re all bloody good), and now I have realised I have to meet all these amazing people tomorrow night at the awards ceremony. Not only that, but I find out if I have won (gracious loser face at the ready) and I also have no idea what to wear (SOMEONE PLEASE DONATE AN AMAZING DRESS TO THE CAUSE!). AND, not forgetting this award is being given by COSMO magazine, one of the best girls’ mags on the planet, a magazine that I read through my teenage years and beyond.
To ease my mild panic, I have been looking for tattoo inspiration. And, I stumbled across these two beautiful tattoo-inspired artworks. Both are fitting for my situation right now. I can’t sleep and I have always followed my heart when writing this blog.
Th’ink grew out of my passion for tattoos and the lack of realistic inspiration for girls like me who want to get tattooed. I will only blog about the things I love.
For as long as I can remember I have dreamt about getting a padlock tattoo. When I was younger I was very secretive and wrote everyday in my padlocked diary about an unrequited crush or a first kiss. As in childhood, in adulthood I enjoy keeping certain things private or sharing things with only selected people.
Here is my heart-shaped padlock, it represents my secrets, now I wonder who holds the key to it?
It has been a while since I have talked about my own ink journey…the last time may have been at the beginning of the year when I talked about strange children and sharpies. At this time I only had one tattoo (which has not yet featured on this blog). Since then I have had two tattoos, a cameo tattoo on my inner wrist and a padlock on my foot. Both are beautiful and I couldn’t be more pleased…
I am now working on some blog posts and that will show the tattoo process from start to finish…drawing, outline, shading, colour, healing and the finished piece…I hope you will find this helpful in your own decisions about what and where to get tattooed. I will also do a feature with all of my own tattoos very soon…
If anyone would like any advice just get in touch.
I have scoured the inner-most workings of my little ink-filled brain and I still cannot comprehend how it all happened. One sunny day in London, walking to Looby’s house, a beautiful sunny, if slightly chilly, day – one of those days that feels full to the brim of unlocked potential and wonder. My phone is happily tucked inside my handbag, my fur-coat is wrapped up around my earlobes and I am about to call on Looby, so that we can make our way to the Brighton Tattoo Convention (as I had informed you all I would).
I knocked on her door and made myself comfy on her couch waiting for her to finish preening herself in preparation for the day’s events. I got my phone out – as you do in these sort of situations. I gasped in horror as my – new still don’t know how to lock/work it – BlackBerry displays a tweet. One single tweet – a tweet that I did not write. The tweet in question had even managed to tag one man in it. One man – one man that I did not wish to mention in said single tweet. This man just happened to be the one tattooed art historian who I have previously described as my “ideal man”. I may have even swooned at some point in the sentence. Bloody twitter *swoons*.
This is the tweet and how it tweeted I am quite certain I shall never be sure. So after this I thought the day could hold no more horrors. Things can only get better and all that. How wrong could I possibly be? Myself and Looby arrive at London Bridge station ready to board the high speed to Brighton, must point out that is already around 4pm by this point. So, we get in the queue for tickets only to be informed that we would have to catch a rail replacement bus, oh bugger! This just ain’t gonna work for us. After much deliberation, tears and tantrums (from me not Looby I hasten to add) we come to an *almost* unanimous decision to go to the pub instead. By this point I need wine (and cigs).
Off we trot with the waifs and strays we have managed to collect along the way (a boyfriend and his brother and his girlfriend). In the pub the drunken chat, as ever, turns to childhood dreams, jobs and tattoos we always wanted. It was revealed that one of us (I mention no names) wanted a snowflake and a ladder tattoo. We wittered on about best tattoos to symbolise our jobs, i.e. stock market numbers from the Financial Times, globes, books and trains (am sure you can pick out jobs to match). So the day didn’t quite pan out as I had initially hoped, however it was fun and it does provide me with another amusing anecdote in the days and life of Alice Th’ink.
But please, please, pretty please can someone fill me in on exactly what I missed? Thanks muchly.
And here are some of my fave photos from the day stolen from those of you who are more wise than I.
WARNING: This post is not intended to be a serious music review, more the opinions of a meandering twenty something who really should know when to stop.
I want to see James Yuill at new club XOYO last night. I think I luuurve him.
Now I don’t claim to know anything about music, and whether something is of technical brilliance. But I do know what I like (even if I can’t remember what it is called or put it into a genre).
As the bustling crowd gathered a few girls started to debate the hotness of Mr Yuill (something I have never questioned). One girl said he looked like a scientist, another a mathematician. You get the jist. James Yuill has that geek chic edge, he looks like the type of man who knows his stuff. I think most girls agreed that this is mightily attractive. He is also a thoroughly pleasant chap to boot.
So he twiddled his buttons and played his guitar and produced a beautiful mix of pounding electro and hushed acoustic tones. One minute we are raving, next we are waving our arms back and forth as we sway together. As I listen to him playing on my laptop now, it just does not do him justice. The lights were hypnotic and all eyes were on him, all dapper in white shirt and black tie. He took time to engage with his audience and ask them what they wanted to hear. “James we just want you”. What a gent.
So the end drew near. the crowd screamed for more. Encore, encore.
Gent James did not leave, he stood and sold CDs. And what did I happen to glance in his hand? A sharpie. Yes, a shaprie. After harping on about how when drunk I love nothing more than to draw on myself. Well, this was an opportunity not to be missed. James Yuill. Yes, James Yuill could write on me with his sharpie (even if I look like a raving loon in the process). So, I reverted back to my prepubescent self and I asked him to write on my arm. *swoon, faint, scream internally*
He asked my name, I told him Alice. “no, no actually write White Queen.” Oh he says, “did you tweet me earlier?” *Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, act cool* “Yes James I did indeed”. And so there it goes, James is such a gent, he interacts with his fans (even if they come across as raving lunatics) and he gives into their requests, however silly. So let’s hope I am the first of many girls to have their arm written on by Mr Yuill. Oh and his handwriting is beautiful too, is there anything this man can’t do?
So only a few questions remain. James if I follow you, will you follow me? And who will tattoo over this signature before I have to wash it off?
PS, go buy the album. The cover actually provides inspiration for tattoo ideas…custom tattoos by James Yuill…and with handwriting like that I am pretty sure I would let him tattoo me with his own fair hands.
Photos: My very own personal photographer, Miss Looby Hobin.
To ink or not to ink, that is the definitely the question on lots of girl’s lips these days and it is a topic I frequently ponder upon. With tattoos and body art at the forefront of fashion and media it seems that tattoos are more than an ill-thought Chinese symbol or butterfly. They are a continuation of one’s own style and identity, an affirmation of individuality.
Body art and modification were never far from my mind, even as a young girl. By the time I was ten all the girls at school had beautiful little diamond (diamante, Argos) earrings and my poor little lobes remained bare, awaiting some pretty (ugly) adornment. My jealousy could not be denied and my sister and I even invented “the piercing game”, much to the annoyance of the parentals. When sat in the back of the family car, we would take it in turns to pierce each other. This involved picking a part of our body and squeezing between our fingers, strange little girls. Needless to say, many a girly scream would emanate from the Snape car.
This obsession grew and I was often found, pen in hand adorning my body with “tattoos”. Generally my doodles would feature hearts, butterflies and general girly silliness. This habit has even carried through to womanhood. Admittedly, now, it is a habit that comes out to play after copious amounts of vino after stumbling across a sharpie in my handbag (god knows why it is even in there).
The sharpie is no longer satisfying my craving for ink and I am constantly on the lookout for inspiration, realistic inspiration. So begins the search for my new art. This diary will capture each moment of my journey.