I Got Tatted At House Of OMA & It Felt Like A Total Fever Dream

By Lara Kramer  •  17 May 2025 in Features

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If you clicked on this for its title, I need you to know that this is serious sh*t and not another interestingly-titled, clickbait, sensational ad disguised as news.

This is real. FR, as the wise would say.

First off, you know how there are all these songs and movies about winding roads leading you somewhere unexpected? Sometimes it’s paradise, sometimes it’s a cult compound, depending on the vibe. Either way, the idea is that the road sets the mood.

So there I was, in a Grab heading to House of OMA, watching the path twist through this leafy, old residential area along Lorong Travers that looked both peaceful and faintly post-apocalyptic, and I thought, alright. Whatever this place is, it’s not going to be normal.

Officially, it’s listed as a “community garden,” which sounds like a quirky euphemism. But it turns out they mean it literally. It is a garden. With a community. And somehow that undersells how strange and good it actually is.

When you arrive and make your way in (after reassuring your Grab driver and perhaps yourself that you’re not lost), you’re greeted by a literal house that’s white, quiet, and surprisingly pretty, but not in that overly curated, influencer-trap way.

It feels real. Not lived-in, but warmly occupied. You get the sense immediately that this place wasn’t designed to impress; in fact, it must be put together by someone (or three someones) with taste and a slight disregard for convention.

Khang Wei, the founder (and my tattoo artist that day), was there when I arrived.

Head to the open area at the back and you’ll find a garden space that could pass for a small nursery, managed by him and his two partners.

This is where you see the people. The community. The hosts.

Pair after pair of tattooed and plain hands alike that have turned this place into something rooted in art and expression. Friends crowded around a box of desserts like it’s a rare gem—apparently a common sight here. Tables that blur the line between work and play. A cocktail on the table whose taste you think simply cannot outdo its aesthetic appeal. Right? Wrong.

To answer what I know a lot of you are wondering: Yes, there’s a bar.

Yes, it looks badass. And yes, the bartender isn’t just good, he actually gives a shit. Friendly, skilled, and clearly passionate about what he’s doing. Did you want a megawatt smile to go with your drink?

I had the pleasure of witnessing the House of OMA signature blend—yes, self-titled—a lilac-toned beauty that felt like a drink and a visual installation all at once.

I didn’t have a taste for myself (in case you want to school me about alcohol before a tattoo), but I’d come with a friend who’s particularly fussy about his drinks, so the five-minute sipping and silence followed by an empty glass set on the table told me enough.

By now, the space had fully revealed itself for what it is: A strange, brilliant juxtaposition. Winding, eerie roads that lead to a house with an understated, lived-in calm. A tranquil garden buzzing with life, with some of the most interesting, magnetic people you’ll find in the city; from ceramicists to photographers to tattooists.

A single door that takes you from warm daylight into a bar that’s lush with colour, but still soft, moody, and intimate. You’re off the grid but right in the middle of the latest trend at the same time.

OK, yes, there are photos. Yes, I’ll shut up now and let you share some more of the visual experience:

So, after the intros, some gasps, and a dangerously pretty cocktail, it was time to get down to business. As I mentioned, I had the pleasure of being tattooed by Khang Wei himself. I came in with a design, but it needed a few adjustments. Some placement changes, a little compromise, and a necessary reality check.

And no, that’s not a complaint. I’m talking about real precision and honesty. The kind of tough love that sounds like, “Yeah, that looks badass, but you’re going to hate it a couple years down the line.”

That’s when I knew I was in good hands. Comfortable enough to let him work on the stencils while I wandered off to check out the rest of the space.

House of OMA is also commonly used as an event venue, so the spacious hall donned with all kinds of artwork and framed prints came as no surprise, complete with a wide, open, freshly-used and therefore mildly aromatic kitchen that adds to the “human” and “home” concept.

But again, you can expect your perception of normalcy to be contradicted here. A door to your right leads to a cigar room, which I was told is sometimes even used as a meeting space for work-from-OMA individuals.

Think full retro, smoking jacket energy, borderline mafia, padded couches, and an overall backdrop with theatrical weight:

All I can say is, if you’re the kind of person who likes having company while getting tatted, stop dragging your partner to boring, dodgy, lifeless joints. Do them a favour and bring them somewhere with actual comfort and energy. Bring them to House of OMA. That’s a personal request.

Speaking of, if you’re here for the actual tattoo part, I apologise for going on about the aesthetics. Let’s get into it.

My design was ready. Locked, loaded, and fully approved by me. For context, this was my first-ever thigh tattoo—a placement I was definitely nervous about—and my first time getting inked at this spot.

So I got ready, stepped into the studio space, lit by semi-fluorescent lights and lined with framed flash designs, and told myself, OK. The dream ends here. I’ve enjoyed the fantasy. Now someone’s going to have to pinch me. With needles. Lots of needles. And ink.

I’ll spare you my usual “Right? Wrong.” routine, but you can probably guess how it went, considering I made it home and still found the time to write this painfully long piece.

I have to admit, I started getting tatted in my late teens, and at the time, it felt like… yeah. This is fine. This is something I can handle.

Now, in my mid-twenties, my last few sessions had me wondering if I even want more. Am I getting old? Is my skin thinning? Has my pain tolerance dropped? Was I just fuelled by angst and vanity back then?

No. I was just going to the wrong places.

I was pretty restless when the tattooing started, but if you actually take a moment to watch Khang Wei work, or better yet, talk to him, it becomes immediately obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing. Calm, focused, no rushing, no flinching.

You never feel like you’re taking up too much of his time or being a hassle. Which, in my experience, is rare.

Now let’s talk about the pain. I accepted my fate, sitting in the chair as Khang Wei (pictured above) leaned in. The familiar buzzing kicked in, followed by that slightly muted pressure as the needle hit skin. But then came something unexpected—a lightness in his touch I hadn’t quite felt before.

I won’t claim it was painless (that would’ve had me fully convinced I was trapped in a dream), but it was mild. Minimal. Thoughtful, even. And keep in mind, this particular piece had the most shading out of any tattoo I’ve gotten prior.

So I yapped, had a conversation with Khang Wei about the space and the idea behind it, chatted with other tattooists and guests around, but not because I was trying to distract myself. It was simply because he knows how to tattoo without putting you through unnecessary agony. Apparently, that’s something he’s known for. Gentleness and precision paired with a kind of humble nonchalance.

When I finished and started telling everyone how smooth it was, they just shrugged like I’d stated the obvious.

Like, yeah, he’s the sh*t. You didn’t know?

So there you have it.

But don’t just take my word for it, he’s got enough fans around to prove you’ve landed in the place of your dreams. I mean, you’ve got to be someone pretty recognisable if people can clock you from an Instagram story that’s 90 percent the top of your head.

As for the space itself, I can only do my best with words and a few horizontal photos, but you know nothing beats seeing it for yourself, and knowing it’s somewhere you’re always welcome. Except on Mondays. Because they’re closed then.

And as for what OMA stands for, you’ll get a clue and unlimited chances to guess. I haven’t figured it out myself, but if I had to guess, I’d hope it’s something related to the overall vibe of the space that encourages you to luck up the courage and live a fever dream or two (for context, it’s literally built over what was once a dilapidated abandoned space that somehow felt ‘just right’ to all three partners the very first time they visited it!)

So take from that, and stop choosing your spaces and artists based on convenience and comfort. Do yourself a favour and try something new. Something bold.

Take the winding road, for God’s sake. :p