On a late summer day I waited in a line at the pharmacy. I was aware someone had come up behind me and when I turned to see who it was beheld a vision: a tall young Asian woman, wearing flip-flops, a pair of (very) short-shorts and an abbreviated top. She smiled at me, in that indulgent way beautiful young girls smile at men stunned by beauty. Since it would have been impolite to continue staring I took a mental snapshot, and it's that I'm looking at now as I describe her to you. Over her left breast--what I can see of it--is a tattoo of a butterfly, which if my mental photo is correct, continues on to her breast itself. It would been completely wrong to ask her, "May I see your tattoo, my dear?"I still have a negative image of tattoos, although in the case of the young Asian woman it seemed to emphasize, rather than detract, from her natural beauty.
A few days ago, going through the Google Life magazine archives, I found an interesting article from 1936, explaining that one in ten Americans has a tattoo. Huh! Where did they get that statistic? They don't say, but they show some examples of living canvases for the tattooists' art, including a dead ringer for Curly Howard of the Three Stooges, and even one of the artists. Check out tattooist Apache Harry, with his long hair. This doesn't seem out of place in 2010, although Harry must have caused quite a stir in 1936, even in New York City.
There is no shortage of pictures on the Internet of lovely young women with tats. I'm pretty sure that 75 years later Harry has gone on to the great tattoo parlor in the sky, but his legacy lives on.
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