The Ink Link: Anna gets a tattoo in her 80s

The Ink Link is an ongoing project at CN&CO that showcases the diversity of tattoos. One of the great things about a tattoo is that it goes against the commonly-held viewpoint that “what you see is what you get”. There’s a misguided belief in certain quarters that only “some” people get a tattoo. We are putting paid to that perception through the stories showcased in the Ink Link. In this edition, we feature the fabulous Anna Starcke who got her first tattoo late in life 🙂

I met Anna Starcke in the early 2000s while working at Hollard as the head of communications. Anna presented to a small group of executives at Hollard (as she did at Barloworld and other well-know corporates) once every eight weeks or so. And when I say present, I mean she shared information on politics, the economy and society at large to help the team make sense of the world – and ultimately deliver better results for shareholders and clients. And she did it in a flamboyant, intense, spectacular way.

I was in awe of Anna – her stylish, bright (always!), fabulous look. Her (accented) voice. Her (joyous) laugh. Her brain. And so I conspired to get an invite to join – really not my place as I was not high enough up the totem pole, but thanks to my boss at the time (well mentor, friend and marketer extraordinaire) Sheila Surgey and Hollard CEO Paolo Cavalieri, I was lucky enough to get the opportunity to be blown away by Starcke Realities every few weeks.

Anna read and watched everything on the news, on radio and on the TV. And never slept (and that’s only a slight exaggeration). Soon we became friends and I have two decades of special memories of this friendship. From beautiful lunches (Anna’s lunches are always not only scrumptuous, but also exquisite) to fun-filled champagne sessions a deux, to parties (Barlow’s centenary celerbation a highlight), to buying her nuclear pink lipstick whenever I passed through Dubai (I used to joke it was illegal in SA), birthdays, to getting gifts wrapped more beautifully than any other (I treasure especially the magnificent art I have been gifted by this art lover ex-wife of legend SA artist Helmut Starcke) to much else besides.

Anyone who has met Anna will testify to the fact that she is unique. And while every person is, Anna just seems more so. Her life story (from a childhood in Germany in the 1940s to being a chambermaid in France to working at the Financial Mail in Jozi to writing a book (a now out of print copy being one of my most treasured possessions) to hosting dinner parties between enemies and banned persons in the 80s to help move SA out of Apartheid to … well I can go on and on. Anna is truly remarkable. A few days ago she shared this titbit on Facebook which gives a taste of her life:

“Realitycheck indicates this may be the last year I’m able to use women’s month to pay tribute to the ones who made me. First up: wish I’d have been able to tell them while they were alive. Alas. 

Fraulein Daus – you can’t imagine a more stereotypical spinster lady teacher than her, from the graying hair in a tight roll through the tweed suits to the sensible shoes  – at the Goethe Mittelschule in Offenbach was the one who literally woke me at about 12. I like to think I in turn helped her to feel her life wasn’t wasted. She fixed art postcards with pegs all around the class room: gorgeous Kandinskys, Franz Marcs, Gauguins, Henri Rousseaus, Max Beckmanns, Paul Klees. 

It was the first art I ever saw. I was enchanted. Turned out I was the only one in that class of over 40 who showed the slightest interest. So Fräulein Daus asked whether I wanted to come to a public lecture now & then at Frankfurt University? It was the time Adorno had tenure & Marcuse did a guest lecture. I didn’t appreciate how lucky I was until decades later. 

Martha, my 18 years older sister. At about 3, I was convinced she was my actual mother. So were the neighbors. We were wrong; but she was directly responsible for my conception = that bottle of red wine! Martha died at 36. She always smelled divine. I decided I would too. 

Mme Feuz, my boss at the Lotti in Paris near Place Vendome. A hard task master & the most influential on me on interiors, hygiene, flowers & how no shortcuts may be tolerated. Ever. Including how you present yourself, no matter what. 

Ginette, the barmaid at Le Caméléon, the world’s first discotheque in St Germaine where I repaired to most nights after knocking off work at 23:00. She taught me being kind to strangers is a virtue with dividends. 

Finally, Auguste, my Mutti. It’s complicated. She tried her damndest to prevent me having ambitions but in the end was proud to see me – in Clifton – having escaped by my bootstraps. I was so happy we had those 3 months together. Mutti died when I was 32. Here’s a heavily damaged photo of her when she was pregnant with me, aged 43.”

We all have our stories and over the years as Anna and I learnt each other’s, I was often gobsmacked by how much this friend of mine had achieved through sheer determination – and a dash of class! Of course one is biased towards one’s friends, and of course they aren’t perfect, but, for me, Anna remains a brilliant example of something my mother always also demonstrated – there is no such thing as “no”. Things may be hard – in fact they often are. Shit happens. But we choose whether we sit in a corner or whether we rise up and grab life by the short and curlys.

But this is a blog about tattoos – so let’s get to it …

Anna had always wanted a tattoo before she died. When her daughter Stellanette posted an image on Facebook not too long before Anna’s 80th birthday, Anna loved it so much that she said when she got her tattoo, it would be similar to that image.

And then, as fate would have it, my tactile friend met another superb woman in my life – Carly Barnes. Like Anna, Carly cannot be described as dull. She too is bright – in all sense of the word. Anna so loved Carly’s shoulder tattoo that she wanted to track down her tattoo artist. Carly (and her soon-to-be-husband Jack) know tattoos a they have a few “)

And well, the rest is history as they say. Anna got her dragonfly tattoo at age 80 or so.

Here’s to you darling, dearest, fabulous Anna. From your Carel-baby-too. Your tattoo is magnificent. YOU are magnificent. I am in part because of the lessons I learnt from you, the possibilities I saw because of you. Age indeed is but a number and your number my friend is not up quite yet! Love you.