That brown stuff is betadine, right?

I recently asked on my IAM page who people felt the best piercer in their area was (if you’re an IAM member, you can still take part in that poll by clicking here). In Scotland, LittleJohn from Metalurgey in Dundee was a name that kept coming up. Still, I don’t think I’m going to be asking him for an anal piercing… I’m sure he’d do a fine job, but it’s just not my thing.

Talk about a state of denial!

I wasn’t sure if people were enjoying them, so I took a break from reprinting historical articles for a while… Anyway, maybe it’s time for another?

So on February 28, 1899, The Washington Post wrote an article by a writer who while I feel does have a secret fetish for tattoos from some of the wording, clearly feels they are low class, socially inappropriate, and generally “Unamerican”. It begins,

"Chicago's society has a genre quite its own, and while its leaders avow it is still in a formative period, I think all must acknowledge that it possesses some very striking members. One of the leading society women of Chicago, whose husband's family is not far removed from diplomatic relations, attended a cotillion recently given in the gay French capital. The lady, who is rather short in stature was gowned in a robe of brilliant yellow satin, made very short in the waist, exceedingly decollete, and only held on to the shoulders by a narrow band of satin ribbon. A gentleman, upon whose arm she was leaning in the promenade, suddenly discovered, as he supposed, some foreign substance which had fallen upon her arm, and, with an apology, called her attention to the fact that something dark had fallen and lodged upon her upper arm near the shoulder, upon which the lady laughingly replied, at the same time drawing back her shoulder band, 'Oh, no, that is nothing; I will show it to you; it is the coat-of-arms of my husband's family, which I have had tattooed upon my shoulder. My daughter has one much handsomer than mine; at which the daughter, a beautiful young girl of nineteen years, was brought over and this desecration exhibited. I find myself powerless to express my sentiments upon this and leave you each to your own opinion."

Our Frenchman, it appears, met in Paris a "leading society woman whose husband's family is not far removed" from diplomatic relations. Just what he means by being "not far removed from diplomatic relations" we do not pretend to know. Doubtless he knows himself, but no one at this end of the line does or ever will. This lady evidently set a great value upon the proximity of her husband's family to diplomatic relations, so she had their coat of arms tattooed upon her ample and alluring shoulder. Unfortunately the Frenchman does not describe the heraldic device of this Chicago family "not far removed from diplomatic relations." Very probably, however, it consisted of two clear sides rampant, with eight sausages, gules, regardant, on a field sable. Or perhaps it might have been a yardstick potent with six scissors interchanged on a field, or with fess and saltire couchant en chevron. The fact remains, however, that the sumptuous details are not given. The Frenchman contents himself with telling us that the coat ofarms was tattooed upon that exciting spot, and then goes on to explain that Chicago society "has a genre quite its own" — meaning the genre just described.

We do not wonder that the historian of this extraordinary episode finds himself powerless to express his sentiments. We feel the same way ourselves. As a matter of fact, our bewilderment covers a much larger field that his, for we pine to know what sort of "leading society woman" this was and what kind of a cotillion she went to in gay Paree. We hear constantly of these queer Americans who go abroad and are seen at entertainments and among foreigners as queer as they are. Furthermore, since we know what remarkable persons visit us from abroad we are quite prepared to believe that we contribute our share of freaks wherewith to enliven and amaze the capitals of Europe. What puzzles us, though, is the fact that we never see these astounding Americans ourselves. We are plentifully supplied with tuft hunters and toadies whose breathless and undiscriminating chase after foreigners makes food for sorry and humiliation, but one does not meet society leaders, either in Chicago or elsewhere in this country, either closely or remotely connected with diplomatic relations — whatever that may mean — who tattoo various parts of their bodies with heraldic devices and then exhibit the result to strangers. To tell the truth, we not only share our Frenchman's speechless astonishment, but we are beginning to envy him his superior opportunities of observation.

What’s funny is that even though the writer swears that tattooed people, let alone tattooed society people, are unheard of in the United States, newspaper articles about the popularity of tattooing, especially in the upper classes, were common. The Davenport Tribune had already identified tattooing as a “fad” in 1893, and even the paper the above article is from had already called tattooing “fine art” in 1895. Well, I suppose the media having a very short memory is nothing new.

Don’t miss the dermal anchor…

Both one of the most beautiful people on IAM, and the owner of one of the most pervy usernames (and a cool custom layout), ookumbubbleoo, used to have an inverted nipple (the left one, if you’re wondering), but not any more due to piercing by Jason King at Psycho Tattoo in Marietta, GA. You may recognize the tattoo from the earlier post about the delayed inflamation after Burning Man.

See also: her celtic knotwork scarification.

BME Newsfeed for Jan 17, 2007

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