The fascination with body image is boundless here in the Cote. Especially now as we head into silly season; Cannes Film Festival, Grand Prix etc.

Julia Moore’s article ‘Lipstick Liberation’ gives a potted history of one of the key props of being a femme fatale – lipstick. This temporary, superficial enhancement and the message it sends has always been acceptable by society. It’s what women ‘do’.

Women also ‘do’ tattoos. Now. From the wife of a would-be prime minister to celebrities everywhere, female surfaces are being scratched, literally and metaphorically.

Ink jobs are on the increase amongst all ages and instead of comments on the suitability for a woman to have a tattoo – a traditionally male, macho, rebel or dodgy bikers symbol – the talk is of the beauty of the design, the flow of the line, the font used. No longer the province of sailors who love their mothers or Scotsmen who find their home country ‘brave’ – Scotland the What?!, tattoos have cleaned up their image. From a symbol of working class masculinity it is now the symbol of mainstream middle class female. My uncle Douglas had a tattoo, I’ve no idea what it was, but to me as a child it made him someone who stood out. I think it was explained to me that ‘he got it at sea’. Rather like a ration of ship’s biscuit or an outbreak of scurvy. When I met my now husband, who sported an obvious tattoo on his wrist of all places, I thought I’ll have to tell my mother before she sees it herself and has a fit of the vapours. I misjudged her, ‘Oh’, she said ’a sign of a misspent youth’. I think she misjudged him, but that’s the nature of tattooees – one never quite knows!

Written on the body, we see Sanskrit, we puzzle over Latin, we quote Shakespeare, as well as a discreet range of smiley faces and ying and yangs. We see an array of mobile canvasses, depicting dragons to dolphins. They are on every part of the female anatomy, with lower backs and shoulders being the areas of choice. Interestingly only then viewed in mirror image by the owner, usually involving minor contortions to see their chosen design. How strange and how telling!

Is it transportable art? Is it a statement? Is it something we’ll regret later in life? I’m thinking palimpsest here. No longer madly in love with so and so, a new name and image has to be inked in to cover the old. It’s not like throwing out old love letters, the person is under your skin and is always going to be there. Obliterating is not an option, out of sight, out of mind does not apply. A cover up with an even bigger artwork is the only answer.

So why this urge to make one’s mark? It is not in the pursuit of eternal youth in the way cosmetic surgery is.

It is not to stand out from the crowd. As Ozzy Osborne told his daughter “if you want to be different, don’t get a tattoo”.

So what is it? Answers on a postcard or discreet tattoo please...