Tattoos have become a surprise hit with midlifers like me – here’s why

Brits aged between 25 and 54 are the most likely to have a tattoo. Photo / Cortney White, Unsplash

OPINION:

When I was a teenager, tattoo parlours were still only really seen in the seedier parts of town and tattoos were associated primarily with bikers, or with poor judgment at the end of a drunken night.

Perhaps the negative connotations can be attributed to antiquity: according to Herodotus, the Ancient Greeks picked up the idea of punitive tattoos from the Persians.

The Bible might have something to do with it, too: Leviticus 19:28 says “You shall not … incise any marks on yourselves.”

But fast forward to 2023 and tattoo artists are no longer skulking in red light districts and back alleys. Increasingly, they are setting up shiny premises in well-heeled areas with more and more people frequenting them: YouGov data shows that more than a quarter of the British public – 26 per cent – have tattoos.

Not only that, but those aged between 25 and 54 are the most likely to have one. Or a few. And that includes me.

And while it’s easy to dismiss a tattoo in your 40s or 50s as a midlife crisis, I’d prefer to describe it as midlife expression; a feeling that the things you wear – whether you wear them like scars or like medals – on your inner skin deserve a place on your outer one.

More than a quarter of the British public – 26 per cent – now have tattoos. Photo / Orfeas Green, Unsplash

Tattoos were always in my plan. A childhood obsession with the dark tragedy of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid made me determined that my first tattoo would be a mermaid – and although she didn’t end up being my first, she eventually joined the party during a trip to (where else?) Copenhagen.

But my first tattoo, when I eventually got it at the age of 35, was in memoriam, a visual tribute to the loss of my first child. My husband had a matching design done the same day.

I now have more than 10 tattoos, scattered, in various places, over my 50-year-old body and, while they’re not all imbued with sadness, they are, like my mermaid, loaded with significance.

“Adesso” and “domani” – now and tomorrow – on the fingers I see constantly as I work. A feather on my back. My name in Arabic on my ankle. A question mark on my wrist. The designs my children have drawn for me as birthday or Mother’s Day presents, ensuring that their gifts are with me – always and forever.

The stories behind all of these are probably not very interesting to anyone but me, but sometimes people ask about them, and when they do, I explain. Sometimes they’re moved, or amused; other times, nonplussed (and possibly wishing they’d not asked – some of the stories are a bit long-winded…).

More remarkably, however, they’re not shocked – which, to my mind, sits precisely at the intersection of tattoos becoming commonplace, and the fact that I’m not an adolescent doing daft things to get a reaction.

According to tattoo artist William Di Rosa (@rosa.tattoos on Instagram), there’s a correlation between age and choice. “Slightly older clients are in a position to make more informed choices around design and permanence,” he says, noting that his own first tattoo, acquired at the age of 18, is no longer his favourite.

Journalist Sarah Rodrigues: "I now have more than 10 tattoos, scattered, in various places, over my 50-year-old body." Photo / Sarah Rodrigues, Instagram

Older clients are also, he notes sagely, more likely to have the disposable income to spend on non-essentials.

The combination of lockdown and social media also had an impact on how people approached a decision as momentous as getting a tattoo, says Di Rosa, which resulted in a tidal wave of clients once restrictions were lifted.

“People had spent more time than usual on social media, where body art accounts are prolific and, even more than that, were coming out of the pandemic with a ‘one life, live it’, ‘now or never’ mindset,” he says.

“They’d also, perhaps, had the opportunity to save money for a tattoo because nights out and holidays were off the table.” He’s recently tattooed his mother, aged nearly 60, with her fourth design, and a 65-year-old man with his first.

Inevitably, perhaps, my teenage children see tattoos in their future: one of my favourite relics from my youngest’s childhood is a Christmas list, in which he sweetly expresses a wish for “doggy slippers, Nike tracksoots, felt-tip pens…” and a tattoo.

When my daughter accompanied me to an appointment one day, the artist kindly marked her arm with the pre-ink transfer of her desired design. It lasted several days, and my daughter was over the moon.

According to Di Rosa, there’s a floodgate mentality that occurs, too. “Frequently, you’ll find that people having a first or even second tattoo are marking something significant. Once that ice is broken, they tend to become more relaxed about it, then getting designs that they simply like the look of.”

With each of my tattoos symbolising something of personal consequence, this isn’t the case for me. Not that I have rules as such, other than preferring to ink parts of my body – spine, wrists, fingers, forearms, ankles – that are bonier, and unlikely to change shape much over time.

I felt vindicated in this approach when I saw a bare-torsoed man in the summer with a woman’s face – Carol, I think her name was – tattooed on his stomach. She may have seen this as the ultimate romantic gesture at the time: she might be less enamoured now that her face is melting and morphing alarmingly over his middle-aged spread.

But ultimately, what does it matter? We all carry marks on our body that tell stories, whether we’ve acquired them accidentally or paid for them to be applied. The scars on the knuckles of my right hand bear witness to the time I spaced out while grating cheese. The near-perfect circle on my knee, to a playground incident on my second ever day of school.

The flay marks on the front of my shin, to the time that my foot came off the bike pedal at the gym. The pale shiny lines on my hip bones, to my pregnancies. Signs of a life lived to the full: I absolutely intend to gather many more such stories, accidental and intentional, as I progress through my next half century.

Inkings of the rich, famous and over-40

Samantha Cameron

Age 51

Samantha Cameron, with husband and former PM David, has a dolphin inked on her foot. Photo / Steve Parsons

The businesswoman and wife of former British PM David Cameron has a dolphin tattooed on her foot.

Angelina Jolie

Age 47

Angelina Jolie has more than 20 tattoos. Photo / Guerlain

The actress may have had a few of her tattoos removed – the ones celebrating past loves – but she has over 20 designs on her body, including an “M” on her palm – a tribute to her late mother, Marcheline Bertrand.

Susan Sarandon

Age 76

Susan Sarandon has tattoos on her back and wrist. Photo / Mark Mitchell

In 2008, the actress said, “You’re never too old for a tattoo.” She has them on her back and wrist.

David Beckham

Age 47

David Beckham, midlife tattoo poster boy.

The former England footballer has more than 60 tattoos all over his body.

Dame Helen Mirren

Age 77

Helen Mirren has a Mayan affirmation inked on her hand. Photo / Getty Images

The Oscar winner has a Mayan affirmation – “in La’kesh” – inked on her left hand.