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Sidewalk Chronicles

She sees tattoos as a free-spirit flag

By JON WILSON
Published December 5, 2004

Kimmie Glazier bent toward Evil Don Seneker, peering and peeking at the tattoo artist's head. Then she called for tweezers.

"I'm the mother," Glazier said. "I don't like ear hair."

Behind the mirror windows of the Tattoo Emporium, 648 Central Ave., behind its Gothic arch paintings with the pale skulls shining, behind her own body art melange, is a wife and a mom and a person who might pop out to snag a quick lunch to go from Fortunato's.

Glazier, 41, calls herself the parlor's head wench. She manages the shop and balances the books. After closing, she cleans, usually wrestling a wet mop across a long, battleship-gray concrete floor. Moving the mop is good for the abs, Glazier said.

Rob and Kimmie Glazier opened the emporium 16 years ago on Third Street N, across the street from Williams Park. In February, the couple moved to the Central Avenue spot, where they remodeled an old photography studio.

Tattoo shops are special energy centers. They often attract people who appreciate pushing the edge. One time a woman in her 90s came in and had a butterfly inked on a shoulder. "She couldn't wait to get back up North and show her church group," Glazier said.

Tattoos also provoke varied reactions. So the freedom to wear them comes with a price. The thing that brings Glazier the most pride is her family. She and her husband, a former bar bouncer and professional wrestler, raised two daughters. Each partner had one girl from a previous marriage and the couple fought to win custody.

"Three hard, long years and we had to fight because of the way we look," said Glazier, meaning the couple's tattoos.

She used to take her girls, now grown, to Northeast Bandits cheerleading practice, to dance lessons, to baton. Sometimes she hid her tattoos with long garments. "Just because I got all these tattoos, that doesn't make me a bad person," she said.

Ask how many she has and Glazier says it's easier to say where she doesn't have them. Among them are flowers, colorful twists, a skull, a portrait of her grandson on her left wrist. She'll soon have her granddaughter inked on the right. She rolls down her slacks just enough to show a portrait of Rob on her left thigh. She got the first one, a rose on her chest, at age 15, using a fake ID in Dover, Del. A wild child? You bet.

It was all about busting free. Glazier spent her early years on her grandparents' dairy farm in Maryland's eastern shore region. Every morning at 5 o'clock, she got up and hooked 200 cows to the milking machines. One day she decided there must be a bigger world.

Now she has traveled the world, made an MTV video and performed in a wrestling movie, Sweets. Her husband, she said, has been her life's biggest influence. "He turned me into a woman. He turned me into a good person. I'd probably be dead now."

Life outside the shop these days is mostly at home in Norwood Heights, shared by an American bull terrier mix named Shiner and two chihuahuas, Poquito and Sammy. The younger daughter is home, too, with the grandkids. They moved into the house. Mom and dad moved into the garage apartment.

It has become their next remodeling project.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Staff writer Jon Wilson has set out on foot, searching for people who conduct a large part of their lives within a mile or two of Neighborhood Times offices. He'll tell you a little about who they are and what they do. Some you may recognize; others you might not. But all will be everyday folks, each contributing in some way to St. Petersburg's downtown tableau, 2004.

[Last modified December 5, 2004, 00:05:18]