Taking the tat out of tattoos

THE last time tattooing was fashionable was around the time Burns was

rantin' and roving in his own colourful way. Not that Rabbie would have

risked the needle, being just a wee bit of a hypochondriac (like all

sensitive folk). Not altogether unconnected with the ploughman poet

image, this was the time that the noble savage cult was sweeping through

the drawing rooms of London society. Eighteenth-century explorers were

bringing back their discoveries -- including the odd bewildered South

Sea Islander and African tribesman -- to prove man's simple and sweet

nature was basic and that it was only social pressures that made them

power-seeking maniacs.

Having one's ankle tattooed proclaimed a psychological closeness with

nature in the way buying organic potatoes proclaims our present-day

efforts to improve the quality of our physical environment. The

significance of the gesture was probably just as futile then as now.

Since then the way we view tattoos has definitely lost its charm and

certainly its elitist image. Sailors rather than salon intellectuals

became the greatest enthusiasts, for medical rather than aesthetic

reasons according to one of Scotland's top tattooists. ''They found it

cured gonorrhea,'' Edinburgh-based tattooist Billy Hooper told me,

rolling up his sleeves before starting on his next customer. His arms

are covered in old-style crude tattoos with thick lines, including the

old battle cry Death Before Dishonour. ''The paint in those days had a

high cadmium content which induced a fever and did act as a cure.''

Japan has its social history of tattooing as well. Prisoners were

identified by tattoos. ''The upper classes did not use them but

tradesmen, actors, actresses used them as a form of rebellion and

identifying with the masses. They were usually images of cult heroes.''

Nowadays both the needles and the colour pigments are finer than ever

before and the tattoo cult is undoubtedly growing. In America, and where

they go we are never far behind, there are tattoo conventions (in

Britain there is one in Dunstable every autumn) and last year the first

Inkslingers Ball was held in Hollywood.

Tattooists have changed too. Mr Hooper's premises are not luxurious, a

bit like a not-so-smart GP's surgery. Customers sit waiting.

''Appointments are not good. Too many people fail to turn up. But it's a

long way from the old image of the tattooist in some dark, dismal

back-street den with a plastic bucket of dirty water on one side and the

needle working from a grimy old car battery on the other.''

Billy's father was a tattooist and he worked in Hamilton before moving

to Edinburgh. ''Until a few years ago we did have a Glasgow University

professor who came here to have new tattoos quite regularly. When he was

dressed you couldn't see anything but he must have surprised people. Now

I'd say that nurses and hairdressers were the most common professions of

my clients and in the past few years there are often more women than men

in the waiting room, which is quite a change.''

Business booms when there's a production of the cult Rocky Horror Show

in town. ''And when an Army unit closes. It's 20 years since the

Cameronians disbanded but I did hundreds of cap badges.''

Despite a tentative acceptance by the fashion world, the image of

tattooing is still pretty downmarket. ''The worst thing that happened

was in the sixties when some psychologist claimed that people with

tattoos have criminal tendencies. You'd think it would be the last thing

serious criminals would want to have because they would be so easily

identified.''

That psychologist may, of course, have saved a lot of heartbreak.

There are many people, including Paula Yates, who regret their tattoos.

''Tattoos are permanent and that's that. The new methods make it more

difficult rather than easier because the colours are brighter and the

dyes more permanent.''

With so much flesh on show at this time of year and over-bronzed skin

as fashionable as designer grunge, tattoos are certainly a safe

alternative to suntan and ageing skin. Billy says black and white is

best if you want to sunbathe as colours fade more quickly in the

sunshine.

Not quickly enough for some, however. Laser therapy can cost hundreds

of pounds to remove tattoos, plastic surgery is expensive, and more

serious problems, like skin cancer, take priority. On top of that,

rightly or wrongly, tattoos can be a social and economic handicap as

they are not what most people, and especially employers, see as valuable

assets.

On the other hand they can be hidden, as in the case of Billy's

professor, and certainly the jokey temporary kind are fun and

fashionable. A permanent commitment is something else.

Temporary contemporaries

CIGARETTE paper, vegetable dye, cosmetic colours -- and 10 minutes

later I'm the proud owner of a hand-painted pink rose tattoo. It was

raining so, dedicated investigative scribe that I am, I pulled up my

sleeve and had the outline traced and then the flower painted on my arm.

That was a mistake. Shoulders are safer, but it was chilly.

It was irritating me within minutes, not physically but everytime I

moved my hand or my arm there it was, growing there. You wanted to brush

it off but couldn't. It must be heartbreaking if you've done that and

it's permanent.

My rose lasted a few days, one of a range of designs from a tattoo

system that Paul Jacobs has imported to Britain from America. Paul is

based in Edinburgh and has an outlet in Covent Garden.

The Temptu Europa paint-on system has been used now for a clutch of

films including Robert De Niro's chilling tattoos in Cape Fear (the only

real one is the panther on his arm) and the idea has now been accepted

by the business world -- instead of a karaoke night you entertain your

clients by employing a tattoo artist for the evening.