Vanishing Tattoo --
Trip Updates
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| Thomas and I spend the day trying to find his friend Gary
Stewart… no luck. There's been no word at all from Gary, no phone, no email, no mail
response. He may as well have dropped off the face of the earth.
Perhaps we'll have better luck with the "World Famous" Jimmy Wong. After hours of plodding about the hot and narrow streets and alleys of Bangkok we finally get lucky. We find his son Juku, first. Then we speak with Jimmy's daughter Joy. The whole family is in the business. It turns out Jimmy has his own shop - he officially starts at 9:30 p.m. but it's generally not open until after 10:00pm - then he works until 7:00am. I think to myself that this guy sounds more like a Vampire than a tattoo artist. On the way to meet Jimmy Wong, Tom and I pass along a street lined with
tailor shops, the famous Sukhumvit Road. Tom has been thinking of getting a
new suit for awhile and I'm dying to take a break. We go into the tailor
shop. But we choose to enter the shop that promotes itself the least A wonderful Sikh family runs the shop, Gulati Fashions. (If you're ever in
Bangkok, go to Shop No. 73, Corner Shop Soi Nana 3, Bangkok, 10110, Thailand,
(662)250-0293.) They offer us refreshments and give us the once over. We Like me, Thomas likes to dress up on special occasions. You're talking about a pair of ruffians who both own three or four evening jackets each. That's a tuxedo to the rest of you great unwashed. Clothes I know. I can feel the urge to flex my sartorial muscles. Sam, our tailor, asks Thomas what features he would like in his suit. Thomas looks over at me and grins, giving me his full permission to knock myself out. I tell Tom of the wonders of bespoke tailoring, extolling hand-stitched lapels, speak rapturously of surgeon's cuffs, praise double pleats and double vents and cuffs and the need for braces in order for a pair of pants to drape themselves perfectly over your body. For a moment I feel truly civilized again. Thomas is an excellent student with very good taste, which, and you can take my word on this, is a trifle unusual in a tattoo artist. Both Tom and I both like to play dress to impress. Sam is delighted to have customers who can appreciate fine tailoring. We are treated like kings as our measurements are taken. Tom chooses an elegant black three-button suit that wouldn't look out of place in Beverly Hills or the Cannes Film Festival. An hour later we are out of the shop and told to come back later for our first fitting. Now that's impressive. Thomas and I find Jimmy Wong's shop, conveniently located between two whorehouses that cater strictly to Japanese businessmen. I say conveniently because Jimmy was no where to be found. But the girls outside wouldn't give the time of day to a couple of scruffy ganjin. At that moment Jimmy opens his shop. He remembers Thomas from 18 years ago. He and Tom squeeze into the smallest tattoo shop I've ever seen. It's actually wedged under a staircase, the ceiling starts at about seven feet at the entrance and then trails away to about three and a half feet. The whole shop might be ten feet long. Might be. Very claustrophobic. TATTOO BY JIMMY WONG Jimmy is the perfect host, sending one of his assistants out for beers. He and Tom shoot the shit for a while and then the subject of Greg Irons comes up. Greg was a brilliant tattoo artist who was at the vanguard of the West Coast Tattoo Renaissance in America in the seventies. Irons was a seminal figure in the tattoo world, perhaps one of the finest pure artists who also happened to tattoo. His artwork influenced a generation of tattoo artists. Tom considered him a mentor and was stunned to learn when Greg was tragically struck by a bus in Bangkok many years earlier. Rumors had circled for years about Greg's untimely death. Jimmy casually mentions that the scene of the accident was only a block away. Thomas is stunned. I've never seen him like this. Jimmy's assistant comes back with the beer but Thomas can't get Greg out of his thoughts. After we all have a beer, Jimmy has his assistant lead us to where Greg was struck and killed by a bus. And you can almost imagine exactly how it happened, because it still happens with frightening regularity. Tourists in Bangkok often cross the road, but forget to look the right way for oncoming traffic because the traffic direction is reversed. And Thai traffic, especially in Bangkok, is treacherous at the best of times. Greg stepped off a curb and it was all over. Tom is quiet for a long time. We take some photos to mark the spot for posterity. Thomas films the traffic and wonders aloud if there wasn't some way that the tattoo community could erect a marker to commemorate Greg Irons life. We settle for a bouquet of flowers left by the side of the road. We go back to Jimmy Wong's, but the mood has changed. Tom and I head home to the Hotel. Our last night in Bangkok is one of reflection. |
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