Tattooed for a Day, Wild for a Night

By RUTH LA FERLA
Published: January 24, 2008
LAURA EASTWOOD dropped by Linda Mason’s makeup boutique in SoHo last week, looking to add a bit of sizzle to her look. For a night on the town, she was wearing a strapless Gucci cocktail dress, a relic of the Tom Ford era. She planned to turn up its glamour by having her shoulders stamped with a constellation of press-on tattoos.

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Filip Kwiatkowski for The New York Times
INVISIBLE-TO-BE Danielle Fonseca applies a fanciful flower to Nicole Laliberte.
To her mind, the fakes are a fashion accessory no more unsettling than hair extensions or her favorite Dior snakeskin pumps. A temporary tattoo is “a way, for one night at least, of not looking like everybody else,” Ms. Eastwood said. She was on her way to dinner at a restaurant with her daughter, Graylen, 13, whose grandfather is Clint Eastwood.

But she became apprehensive as Ms. Mason applied a fretwork of snakes, thorns and Celtic knots to Graylen’s arms and legs, a more fearsome combination than her own exotic script and star bursts. “I don’t know how they’re going to feel about all those tattoos at school,” Ms. Eastwood said. “I’ll get a phone call for sure.”

In some quarters, the needled look, or even its approximation, the temporary press-on tattoo, still sends a subversive message, doubtless part of its appeal. For the young, or sometimes the not so young, a new proliferation of decal-like ink transfer designs offer a groovier-than-thou form of self-customization — and a chance to walk on the wild side, if only for a night.

Treading brashly in the steps of heavily tattooed pop idols like Gwen Stefani, Amy Winehouse or Jeremy Shockey of the New York Giants, plenty of people flaunt the mock variety. These are not the demure flowers painted on children’s cheeks at street fairs. On parade are snakes and daggers, skulls and vines, sprawling menacingly across the shoulders or climbing from ankle to thigh, an echo of the all-over tattoo look that aficionados have embraced.

“Temporary tattoos are back,” said Michael Benjamin, the president of Temptu, a New York supplier of mock tattoos and body paints. In more than a decade as Temptu’s chief executive, Mr. Benjamin has seen their status wax and wane. He said that in the last year or two, his business has doubled. And these days, he has an armful of competitors, companies like Funtoos, Tattoo Shock and Body Graphics.

The cost varies, from about $10 for a packet of do-it-yourself ink transfers, to several thousand dollars for a custom design applied by a pro.

Mock tattoos, like the authentic designs that inspire them, are fast becoming a pop culture staple, cropping up in films and on the playing field, in advertising campaigns and on the pages of fashion magazines.

Simulated ink designs animate the December issue of Italian Vogue, which arrived on American newsstands earlier this month. On the magazine’s cover and inside, too, ink-transfer flowers cover models’ arms, legs, necks and faces. The designs were conceived by the makeup artist Ralph Siciliano to complement their floral-pattern frocks.

In a current print advertisement for a fragrance from Juicy Couture, press-ons snake along a model’s torso. And last week in the Super Bowl playoffs, real tattoos and fakes alike took the field as players in Green Bay, Wis., ignoring subzero temperatures, went sleeveless to show off the artwork on their necks and arms.

The new temporary tats can be louche, as shown by the guests who flaunted them at Marc Jacobs’s Arabian Nights-theme Christmas party at the Rainbow Room in Manhattan. Or they can be as sweetly conventional as the heart and scrollwork transfers that Kiehl’s, the cosmetics brand, will distribute to customers as part of a Valentine’s Day promotion.

Danielle Fonseca, who applied ink-transfer tattoos to a gaggle of models at Mr. Jacobs’s party, views them as a faintly kinky adjunct to traditional makeup. “They offer a kind of branding,” she said, “a way people have of defining themselves.”

The appetite for mock tattoos is fed by the real ones shown in magazines like Inked, which examines the culture of body art, and by popular television shows like “Miami Ink” and its companion show, “L.A. Ink,” on the TLC cable network.

Despite its mainstreaming, the needled look remains for some a symbol of transgression. Linda Mason, who applies temporary tattoos in her shop on Grand Street, argued that in an increasingly conservative fashion climate, tattoos real or fake, are “a new frontier — one of the few ways left for a client or makeup artist to be provocative.”

Unlike the genuine versions, which may mark the wearer as a misfit for all time, the water-based paints of mock tattoos can be washed off at will.

The temps include ink transfer designs pressed onto the skin, sold at national chains like Ricky’s and Claire’s. Other versions are painted on by hand or applied with a stencil and airbrush. Treated with care they stay put for an evening or several days. Most can be removed with a cotton ball dipped in rubbing alcohol.
More sophisticated and authentically weathered looking than the stick-on designs that used to come inside bubble gum wrappers, the new grown-up varieties lend themselves to experimentation. As Ms. Fonseca put it, “They are an amazing way to test-drive a design.”

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Carl Saytor
A guest at Marc Jacobs’s Arabian Nights party in December.
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A Juicy Couture ad.
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Tony Cenicola/The New York Times
Pages from December’s Italian Vogue.
Stephen Remington, a video and performance artist in New York, spent part of last summer applying, and reapplying, a string of bold Chinese characters just under his chin, like a necklace.

“That tag, when I wore it, made me feel a little more rough I guess,” Mr. Remington recalled.

His friends were amused. His mother? “She was about to slit my throat,” he said.

Adverse reactions, maternal and otherwise, are rarely a deterrent to champions of the fakes. Some reason that if you can customize your cellphone or computer, why not a stretch of virgin flesh?

“Tattoos add personality and character,” said Donald Simrock, a makeup artist who has fashioned a variety of fakes for fashion shows and advertising campaigns. “Like that vintage car you buy, they can be an extension of your personality.”

Wearers attest that mock tats do wonders for one’s self-image, teasing out the biker, rapper or gridiron star that lurks inside the suit. Suzie Johnson, a personal trainer in Los Angeles, recently requested a pair.

“I don’t look like a lot of the typical girls you see rolling around on a mat,” she said. “I wanted to look like I had some tough chic going on.”

Her friend Mr. Simrock catered to that fantasy, applying a colorful twisty trellis design to her arm. “It defined my triceps area,” Ms. Johnson recalled, “and it gave me a lot of self-confidence.”

Even Mr. Benjamin of Temptu, who is usually tattoo-free himself, occasionally gives in to the allure of the needled look.

At his office last week, he bared a forearm to show off a skeleton dressed in a top hat and tuxedo. “It brings joy to my life,” he said. “I get to be a nice Jewish boy who looks tough.”

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So This Is It: Valentino

January 23, 2008, 6:11 pm
By CATHY HORYN

The finale at the last Valentino show. (Jean-Luce Huré for The New York Times)
The ovation was still going as I moved toward the backstage, slowly and then at a brisk walk. I passed Marisa Berenson and Marie-Chantal of Greece, who was with her husband Pavlos and her in-laws, Queen Ann-Marie and King Constantine. I saw Uma ahead of me. I caught up with Uma in the backstage and asked her what she thought of the show, half embarrassed that I bothered. “I have no comment to make at this time,” she said, as if she had said it a million times before. Okay. Wouldn’t “beautiful” have worked just as well? I turned away, toward the mob of photographers and models, all of them in identical red dresses, gathering with intensity around Valentino. Natalia V. had tears welling in her eyes. I saw Carlos Souza, who has done the press for Valentino for years, and I asked him if the girls were going to keep their red dresses. They’d all came out in red for the finale. “For sure!” he said, watching Valentino and the mob. Later, I asked one of the models about it and the look she gave me said, “Are you kidding?”

Giancarlo Giammetti, who is Valentino’s business partner, was in the middle of the room. He looked calm, amused, overwhelmed. Television reporters were sticking microphones in his face. “Tonight is the final show for you and Mr. Valentino,” a TV lady began, “How do you feel?”



Valentino greets Uma Thurman backstage after his final show. (Jean-Luce Huré for The New York Times)
“Very well,” he replied, smiling. “Very good.”

Valentino had moved into the room, to give himself and his guests more space. The photographers were pushing closer and the press handlers were pushing some of them back. Claudia Schiffer had arrived.

Giammetti looked up. “I think we’re going to get killed,” he said.


One of the looks from Valentino’s last show. (Jean-Luce Huré for The New York Times)
I left the backstage and returned to the front of the Musee Rodin. So that was it. The end always comes very fast, and it’s never, ever what you expect. Of course, the clothes were beautiful. The Rome collection, in July, was much more spectacular and moving. But these clothes were very fine. They were flawless with a hint of melancholy. Pistachio and pale blue are summer colors but they are also homesick colors. That’s what I think, anyway.


Coco Rocha as a mermaid bride in Jean Paul Gaultier’s show. (Jean-Luce Huré for The New York Times)
Earlier in the day, I saw Jean Paul Gaultier’s show. Gaultier always starts slow, and sometimes he has a good finish and sometimes he doesn’t. Today, his clothes were terrific—very witty and imaginative. Like Lagerfeld, he had an ocean theme. He used lovely marine blue and grays for his chic pantsuits, and then started including embroidery and more exotic colors to represent the texture of coral reefs, kelp and shells. He had a very sexy mini halter dress made of panels of pale green beads interspersed with channels of gold beads. Coco Rocha came out as a mermaid bride. At first she hobbled on crutches, then she stopped and released her tight, shimmery dress by a zipper at the hem. She walked on, two gold shells pointing like missiles from her breasts.

Givenchy was a little disappointing. Riccardo Tisci had some good tailoring, especially the first jacket (worn by Maria Carla, with a flaring black mini skirt lined in white silk), and the ruff-collar evening dresses were interesting. But he couldn’t seem to find a project, and some of the clothes, which made me think of things from Alaia and Montana, just looked overworked.


Riccardo Tisci’s creations presented at the Givenchy show. (Jean-Luce Huré for The New York Times)
Marko, I don’t think those HC sales numbers are wrong. But I think they can be misleading. I doubt the pool of customers has increased for haute couture in the past five years. And I don’t think they optimistically suggest any kind of revival. (You can’t expect a revival when the chief practitioners of savoir faire are retiring or getting on in years, and there is nobody really available to succeed them.) The fact is there are some big spenders from Russia and the Arabian Gulf countries, and some of them are buying three or four pieces a season. Couture is always counted by the piece, rather the outfit. And, of course, the prices are higher than ever. My guess is the number of new clients is roughly equal to the number of old-time clients, who just aren’t interested in playing the game anymore.

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