Peak tattoo seems almost certainly behind us. The electric needles are falling silent and tattoo shops are emptying out as the tattoo craze hits a speed bump that could rob it of all momentum.
“Is it the tattoo apocalypse or do I just suck now?” – tattoo artist, 2023.
What’s going on? One kind of bad economy started the tattoo trend and a second kind could end it.
The big issue right now is the cost of living. Inflation-adjusted wages are falling and tattoos come after rent. Even a short delay in your first tattoo can set a person on a path of no tattoos.
Just over 50% of Australians get their first tattoo aged 18-25. And tattoos beget tattoos – most Aussies who have a tattoo have more than one. So if you make it to 25 without your first ink, you’re far more likely to keep your skin as is forever.
Not having a tattoo can become part of your identity.
Identity leads us to the other economic factor. This is about what brought tattoos to the mainstream. This tattoo trend started, as so many counter-culture trends do, with an economic dislocation. Once, tattoos were for bikies and sailors. Then the global financial crisis tipped a lot of people out of work and left many middle-class young people in Australia, but especially in America, with greatly reduced prospects.
Sign up for a weekly email featuring our best reads
Unemployment for people aged 18-24 in the US rose from 9.9% in 2007 (before the global financial crisis) to 19.5% in 2010 and didn’t drop back to 2007 levels until 2017. In that decade, tattoos went everywhere.
Those kids saw their peripheral relationship to the economy and society and embraced it, sowing it into their identity via tattoos. The tattoos on baristas, bar staff and bike messengers became the new signal of cool and helped send tattoos mainstream.
At the turn of the millennium just 10% of Australians over 14 had a tattoo, mostly men. Now 20% of Australians have a tattoo, and they’re mostly women. The rise is driven by the young – about 30% of Aussies aged 22-36 have a tattoo.
A tough economy isn’t the only cause of youthful rebellion, but it amplifies it.
There’s a parallel with the punk movement and piercings. Punk was born in the deep recession of 1970s Britain. Punk took piercings to an extreme. Visible piercings – of noses, eyebrows and lips – crossed into the mainstream and then faded out as a useful signal of anything much.
In Australia in 1998, men were three times more likely to have pierced ears than tattoos. Now, pierced ears among men are relatively rare.
Tattoos may well be on a similar path. No longer only for rock bands trying to show off their rebel status, every pop star has a full sleeve. Tattoos have invaded the conservative world of K-pop. Recently a 40-something friend of mine, a barrister, got a tattoo. Safe to say tattoos aren’t that rebellious any more.
after newsletter promotion
An economic crisis can spark a trend to get tattoos. Does a fall in unemployment alone end the trend?
“I barely have any clientele at the moment, considering putting out 20% off promo just to get people in. Sucks but thats what it is budd. I might go work some part-time job” – tattoo artist, 2023.
A tattoo doesn’t stop you getting a job any more. They’re kind of expensive and middle class and, unless you cover your neck or face, have ceased to effectively convey rebellion. Indeed, if you’re 20 and can afford a tattoo in this economy, you’re probably still living at home with your parents.
What does kill tattoos is when they stop being cool. If tattoos become the preserve of kids who can afford one, tattoos start to lose their edge. Tattoos are a symbol and the meaning of symbols shifts. That’s semiotics 101.
There’s going to be an acceleration in that shift in a few years, when the 2010-15 tattoo generation gets old enough to be weapons-grade uncool. Right now, the 18- to 20-year-olds of Australia have parents who missed the tattoo wave. But in five to 10 years a big chunk of kids coming of age will know tattoos as something their parents have.
You may get a tattoo at age 18 if your 35-year-old idol has one. But if your 47-year-old parent has one? Ugh! No thank you!
Jason Murphy is a journalist and economist. He lives in Melbourne.
