COMMENTARY SKIN DEEP IS DEEPER THAN YOU THINK
Tattoo removal business is booming, and process still not simple or easy
In my imaginary appearance on Dragons’ Den, I’m extolling the virtues of my new invention: a machine that instantly and painlessly removes tattoos. All the Dragons are in.
Last week’s revelation that a line of Hebrew text (meaning “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine”), which runs from the back of Victoria Beckham’s neck down her spine, has been gently fading away led to questions over the state of the former Spice Girl’s marriage to David Beckham.
I think it’s far more likely that it’s the tattoo that has fallen out of favour. And I know how Victoria Beckham feels. Back in 1997, I had been living in Hong Kong for almost five years, working as a television news correspondent and presenter. It was coming up to the handover, the return of Hong Kong to China, and also the end of my stint in the region.
In an area called Wanchai there is a famous old tattoo parlour that has been inking sailors for generations, where I decided to get a Chinese character tattooed on my hip. It meant “brave and strong,” a similar meaning to my name.
I was in my 20s, and I thought it was the perfect symbol of my time in Asia; its permanence would be a reminder to me not to become too conservative or stuffy as I aged. I also had it, of course, because I thought it looked good; great, even. It sat between low-waisted jeans and a cropped top in the late 1990s, saying that, despite the serious nature of my job, I was slightly rebellious, bohemian, free-spirited.
In the intervening 17 years, I may not have changed in the ways my 20-something self wor- ried I would, but tattoos — not to mention the massive rise in tattoo parlours — have exploded in a way that I certainly didn’t predict.
Back in my 20s, getting “inked” was the kind of thing that still shocked your parents. Now, 20-somethings’ parents are more likely to be getting their own.
Almost a quarter of 40- to 59-year-olds have one somewhere on their body. This summer, a survey found that today’s novelty-seeking pensioners aren’t just taking up backpacking and joining Facebook, some five per cent of the over-60 crowd are getting their first tattoo, too.
Now I’m in my mid-40s, I don’t deeply regret my tattoo; I liked it for the first decade. But in the past few years I’ve felt, if not embarrassed as such, then a growing sense that I’d prefer it wasn’t there. Or I could just get it removed. A generation ago, removing a tattoo was prohibitively painful. It involved dermabrasion, acid peels or literally cutting the image out and replacing it with skin grafts. More recently, celebrities such as Angelina Jolie and Beyonce have used lasers to erase tattoos that signified past relationships.
Victoria Beckham’s decision to de-ink may be merely a fashion choice but, as ever, she’s on trend. Recent statistics from the British Association of Dermatologists suggest a third of people with tattoos regret them. And although getting them removed is an expensive, painful and lengthy process, the tattoo removal business is booming. It grew 440 per cent in a decade in the U.S., according to the research firm Ibis.
In search of an alternative, I’ve had one trial session of advanced laser tattoo removal, which was quick and uncomfortable.
As it didn’t make any noticeable difference to the pigment, I think I’m going to have to suffer for my body art if I want to be ink-free on the beach next summer.