I spent the day working in Williamsburg, Brooklyn in what seemed like an animated cartoon strip.
Everywhere you looked, there were pregnant women about to deliver, endowed with breasts of massive proportions, plastered with tats, as they call tattoos down on 8th Street.
And I’m not referring to a demure rose or butterfly gracing a shoulder. I’m talking Archie Comics gleaming in the August sun.
And these women were young and saucy, strutting along Bedford Avenue, Williamsburg’s main drag, with attitude to spare.
I couldn’t help admiring them for a bevy of reasons, especially all that cleavage leading the way. I’d need a roll of gaffer’s tape, the big size, to pull that off.
And their men either doting on their every need, or carrying a newborn in a sling draped across their mutually stenciled chests, while Mom bounced along, were very sexy in their papa-hood, making me think of cavemen of yore.
One couple, in particular, pulled out my pen. A girl, in her 20s, built like a Botero painting 
….robustly round, but solid as its canvass, her man, tall and gangly with legs the length of a ladder loping alongside carrying recycled totes filled with groceries. One said…I’m A Brooklyn Baby, another, I Speak Brooklynese.
She had a rose-colored tattoo of a string of pearls perfectly painted around her neck, catching my Connecticut eye. Hmm, I thought, it would be as if you never had to unclip that choker, pearled into eternity, since that’s the thing about tattoos, they’re a commitment. It’s not as if you can take one off like a pair of pants you bought when you were drunk.
And that laser business fades, at best. Just ask Johnny Depp whose Winona could only be reduced to Wino.
As far as the buffet of breasts the size of Crenshaw Melons winking from those tank-tops 
and sundresses, do you think it’s the water?
Excuse me while I find some empty bottles and hop a train.
🙂
Definitely a style!
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You can write a description like no one else! I loved your commenting about “Archie Comics gleaming in the August sun”. Who else would see a buffet of breasts??? Your eyes saw things mine would have missed, and your fingers translated them with a bit of magic. Marvelous!
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Thanks Ann. I think I wish I could be, just a little Brooklynese. Those women seem so carefree in their stenciled style. My twinset just can’t compete…:)
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I’ll bet those women would look at you on the streets of Manhattan and envy your sophisticated style.
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Well, if I had a few tattoos maybe…like Coco Chanel doin the tango up my thigh…:)
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LOL!!
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Funny? Yes, I will give you and love the descriptive analysis. However, I feel I need to point out something – you are beautiful just as you are. I am prejudiced – I don’t care for large breasts, anyway. Feel confident, girl, you are watched and thought about…
Scott
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You just haven’t seen enough melons there Kindred…:)
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Never truly developed a taste for melons…
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I see that. 🙂
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I have yet to see any patch of skin, male or female, that was enhanced in any way by a tattoo. Even the expensive/subtle/demure/tiny ones look tacky to me; set my mind to underclass, ne’er-do-well, criminal, gang-land, scum.
I support freedom and self-expression. Each individual has dominion over his/her epidermis. But I will never shed my prejudice, so I am doomed to wince, shake my head and ask “whatever prompted you to vandalise what nature gave you like that?!!”
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The ladies of Williamsburg would chase you like psychotic cartoons…:)
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I never understood the passion for tattoos. Based on the divorce rate, most people can’t even commit to a relationship with someone they love or loved. How can they commit to a permanent design on their skin, especially in a world where fashion changes with the flavor of the day.
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I always think of it like wearing clogs, a brief passion of mine, for the rest of your life…imagine. 🙂
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Oh, that brings back painful memories of the sole.
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Yes. They made so much noise and you’d fall out of them at a curb. Fashion. Sigh
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Three of my four children have tattoos, and most of my nieces and nephews. I’m not really a fan of them myself. The funniest one is on one of my husband’s sisters. She has a fish tattooed on her inner thigh. That just isn’t right, ha ha!
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Wow. I always wonder how someone chooses one. Sailors and their anchors, are one thing, but Bible verses and Spanky and Our Gang is a whole other thing. 🙂
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No tattoos on Princess Grace ! That was the phrase I used say to my daughters to discourage them from ever getting tatted . 1974 I was living in Ireland and I happened to see Grace Kelly emerge from a hotel on O’ Connell street , getting into a Rolls . She was strikingly beautiful , radiantly elegant . Class never goes out of fashion I would tell them – Besides that if you come home with one I’ll break your legs ! Lol
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Grace Kelly would never have had a tattoo. How great you saw her.
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Sometimes life is a banquet and the more we look around us the feast just continues to spread!!!! Thanks for the smiles!!!!
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Thanks for your attendance Alva…always appreciated.
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