We have all had to deal with leaky pens and what they do to leather—put a broken ballpoint pen or Sharpie in a pants pocket or leather bag by mistake, and suddenly, a blue or black blotch appears on your leather jacket or couch. These pen marks last forever if untreated, and if you don’t know how to remove pen ink from leather, cleaning these stains can be frustrating and may result in a bigger mess.
You don’t want to cover up or throw away an expensive and good-looking piece of furniture or purse because of an ink stain, but what cleaning options do you have?
Fortunately, there are some tried-and-true methods for getting ink out of leather – some methods require specialized ink removers, and some of them need nothing more than household cleaning products. In this article, we’ve gathered some of the most effective ways to remove pen ink from leather
How to Get Ink Out of Leather
Evaluate your stain and determine the best way to treat it. How to remove an old oil stain from a leather bag is a little different than dealing with ink.
Use Hair Spray on the Stain
The magic ingredient in hair spray that works on ink stains is isopropyl alcohol, otherwise known as plain old rubbing alcohol. Over time, companies have reduced or phased out isopropyl alcohol levels in hair spray completely, so this method is not as effective as it once was.
However, if you don’t have rubbing alcohol in the home, you can use a hair spray with a relatively high alcohol content to clean your leather. Before you try to clean pen marks with hair spray, you should test the cleaning method on an inconspicuous place on the leather.
Spray the pen marks, allow it to sit for several minutes, and then rinse the spot with cool water. Afterward, dab – don’t rub – the place with a dry cloth or paper towel.
Apply Alcohol to the Stain
Alcohol can be useful for how to remove Sharpie or other ink from leather but it can damage leather if you apply it carelessly. Isopropyl (rubbing) alcohol is the most effective. Denatured alcohol or nail polish remover may work better, but you run a higher risk of damaging the leather.
Make sure to test the alcohol in a hidden spot before using it on the stain to ensure that you will not harm the fabric. Apply the alcohol with a cotton swab or cotton ball and rub lightly as you apply.
The ink should soak into the cotton swab. Do not allow the alcohol to sit too long after application – quickly dry the area with a hairdryer, if possible, or it might eat away at the leather.
For Non-White Leather, Try this Homemade Leather Cleaner
This home remedy is effective and safe to use on non-white leather, but always make sure to test the mix on a small area first.
Lemon Juice-Based DIY Leather Cleaner Recipe
1 part lemon juice
1 part cream of tartar
Mix the two ingredients into a paste. Then, apply the mixture to the ink spot using a microfiber cloth. Work the paste into the stain, and let it sit for a few hours if the stain remains.
Once you have cleaned the area with a damp cloth, apply a commercial or DIY leather conditioner to ensure that the leather is maintained, and you are working on a piece of leather furniture, be sure to always follow the tips for cleaning a leather couch for best results.
Homemade Cleaner for White Leather
White leather is more sensitive to caustic ingredients, so if you have an ink spot on white leather, use this cleaner. Make sure to test the cleaner in an inconspicuous area first.
DIY White Leather Cleaner Recipe
1/4 cup vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil
Mix the ingredients in a spray bottle. Spray the mixture on the affected area, and let it sit for five minutes or so before wiping it off.
As with non-white leather, you should apply a professional or DIY leather conditioner to properly maintain the leather, and if you are cleaning leather furniture, make sure to follow the tips for cleaning a leather couch.
Use a Commercial Leather Cleaning Product
If your home remedies don’t work for removing acrylic paint from leather, commercial cleaners might be the way to go. They can cost a bit, but they are guaranteed to not damage your leather if used correctly.
As with home cleaning solutions, however, you should always test the product on a small area before trying them on the stain.
Commercial Cleaning Product Advantages
They are carefully tested and should be safe for cleaning leather.
They may work better on stubborn stains.
They usually require no mixing or measuring.
Melamine foam, also known as a Magic Eraser, is a significant first step toward stain removal. If the Magic Eraser doesn’t do the trick, try to remove pen from leather with liquid cleaners.
There are many excellent commercial leather products available, and many of them are valid on ink stains. Choose the best one for your needs, and you should always follow the included cleaning instructions.
Take It to a Dry Cleaner
If all else has failed you and you’re willing to pay to get your leather
purse or sofa back to pristine condition, you might consider a trip to the dry cleaners. Dry cleaners have a lot more tools and tricks to get Sharpie off of leather, and they have access to more powerful cleaning chemicals.
If you choose to take your leather to a dry cleaner, you should always do research and choose a reputable business. And, be sure to inform the cleaning staff of any special care instructions before entrusting them with your leather.
After you’ve cleaned out the stain, consider applying a leather protector to avoid future stains. It doesn’t require ballpoint ink to damage leather, after all—a single drop of water on unprotected leather can ruin it.
If you’re the victim of a broken ink pen and have been unfortunate enough to find yourself with a big black or blue ink stain spreading across your favorite leather item, we hope that you found this article on how to get pen ink out of leather to be helpful.
Whether you use a home cleaning solution or a professional, patience and persistence can get your leather goods clean, ink-free, and beautiful again.
Thanks very much for reading our tips on how to remove pen ink from leather. Please share these ink stain removal tips with your friends on Facebook and
I Accidentally Found a Hidden Nanny Cam in My Bathroom and Went Pale When I Learned Why My 11-Year-Old Son Put It There
Finding the hidden camera tucked under my bathtub was terrifying, and realizing my son had put it there was even worse. But his tearful explanation made me realize he was on a mission to reawaken a part of me I thought was lost forever.
The jigsaw puzzle on our kitchen table had stayed the same for weeks, and I was getting worried. My son, Drake, and I used to love them, but things were much different now.
A puzzle on a table | Source: Pexels
These days, he would rush straight to his room after school and shut the door firmly behind him. That is… after coming home later than usual.
I stirred the pasta sauce and checked my phone again: 6:45 p.m. Two hours late, just like yesterday. Through the kitchen window, I watched our neighbors walking their dogs and laughing together.
Our house used to buzz with that kind of energy. Now it felt like Drake and I were living in separate worlds, connected only by quick hellos and leftover dinners. Did this happen to all pre-teens?
A woman concerned | Source: Pexels
A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.
“Hey, Mom.” Drake’s voice floated through the hallway, followed by the thud of his backpack hitting the floor.
“Kitchen,” I called out happily. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
He poked his head around the corner. I saw his messy hair covered by a backward baseball cap. Something about his eyes made me feel like my boy was back, even for just a second.
Boy with a backwards baseball cap | Source: Pexels
But they soon darted to the floor when I looked at him. I knew something was going on, but I had no idea how to address it. My boy almost seemed older than his few years.
“Sorry I’m late. Chess club ran long.”
“Chess club?” I raised my eyebrows. “Yesterday it was math tutoring. And Tuesday was yearbook committee.”
“Oh yeah, I do all those now.” He shuffled his feet. “Can I eat in my room? Got tons of homework.”
Math book and notebook | Source: Pexels
I gripped the wooden spoon tighter, accidentally dripping tomato sauce onto the stovetop, and decided enough was enough. “Drake, what’s really going on?” I asked, turning and putting one hand on my hip.
“Nothing! I told you, just busy with school stuff,” he shrugged and moved further into the kitchen. Without meeting my gaze, he grabbed a plate, scooped up some pasta, and disappeared before I could press further.
Pasta dish | Source: Pexels
I sighed and wondered to the heavens for the millionth time if I should intervene. Maybe I wouldn’t get an answer from up above, but I could try to find some of my own.
I checked the hallway, and his door was shut as usual, but he had left his backpack in the living room. It was my chance.
Inside, crumpled between textbooks, I found a piece of paper with an address scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting: “1247 Maple Street. Don’t be late. This is it.”
Backpack on the floor | Source: Unsplash
What was going on? I wondered, horrified.
***
That night, I found myself going through his old baby photos, spread across my bedroom floor like pieces of a life I barely recognized anymore.
There he was, two years old, grinning with spaghetti sauce all over his face. That happy little boy used to tell me everything. Now he barely looked at me.
Toddler covered in spaghetti sauce | Source: Midjourney
The parent-teacher conference from last week played in my head.
“Drake seems… distracted lately,” Mrs. Peterson had said, sliding his failed math test across her desk. “He’s been falling asleep in class. When he’s awake, he’s always scribbling in his notebook, but it’s not notes from the lesson.”
How could he be getting a grade like that with math tutoring? Was it time to pull the plug on all other clubs?
A math test | Source: Pexels
Either way, I knew sleep wouldn’t come, so I decided to take a shower.
The bathroom was my sanctuary, the one place I could relax and belt out old songs without anyone hearing. Tonight’s selection was “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
The steam rose around me as I hit the chorus, and I remembered how I used to dream of being on stage.
A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels
“Where do we go now?” I sang, letting my voice soar like it used to at the coffee shop open mics when my future hopes were far grander than what reality allowed.
Sadly, those wishes were extinguished the moment, Tom, Drake’s father and my ex, left us for his new family in Seattle.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past again. The present was much more important. I finished cleaning myself up and exited my shower. As I dried my hair, I felt the pull on my ear and heard a clink on my tiled floor.
A woman drying up | Source: Pexels
My earring! I bent down to get it and saw the crystal’s shining light reflecting from just under the bathtub. Except… something else caught my eye.
There, hidden under the edge, was an old nanny cam I used when Drake was a baby. And it was ON. I immediately went pale. But I examined the angle. It would only be recording my feet. I didn’t get it.
Still, my hands shook as I took it and carefully wrapped myself in a towel to march straight to Drake’s room. The sound of his furious typing stopped when I pounded on the door.
A woman holding a small camera | Source: Pexels
“Just a minute!” he called out, and I heard drawers being opened and shut. What in the world?
“Drake, open this door right now!”
Finally, I heard footsteps and the door swung open.
He stood there in his oversized gaming headphones, and his own face turned white as soon as I held up the nanny cam.
A boy with headphones | Source: Pexels
“Drake, what is this? Why was this hidden in the bathroom?!” I asked, as my anger and bravado turned to extreme worry.
When he remained silent, I gulped and asked, “Have you been… recording me in the bathroom?”
His eyes widened at that. His expression was terrified. “Oh no… Mom, you weren’t supposed to find that. IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. I can explain!”
“Then start explaining.” I pushed past him into his room and looked at his computer. The screen showed some kind of video editing software. Oh, no! What is he doing?
A laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels
But before I could panic more, Drake spoke. “I…” He slumped onto his bed. “You weren’t supposed to find out yet.”
“Find out what? That my son is making videos of…” I couldn’t even say it.
“No! Mom, listen,” he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes. “Remember when you used to sing at the coffee shop open mics? Before Dad left?”
The question caught me off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”
A woman looking confused | Source: Pexels
“You were so happy then. Now you only sing in the shower, when you think no one can hear you.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But you’re still amazing, Mom. I wanted to show you that.”
He reached for his laptop and turned it toward me. His fingers pressed play, and suddenly, the screen showed me… well, a music video.
I saw a sunset over the city and streets filled with people chasing their dreams. But the main part was the soundtrack with my voice, clear and strong. It was playing “My Way.”
A sunset over New York | Source: Pexels
“I met an old man, Mr. Arthur. I’ve been going to his studio after school,” Drake continued. “He’s been teaching me video editing. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, show you that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because…”
“Because your father left?” The words stuck in my throat.
“He owns all these old instruments, and he lets me practice drums while he teaches me about making videos.” Drake’s words tumbled out faster now. “I’ve been doing extra chores for neighbors to pay for studio time. Mr. Arthur says I have a good eye for it.”
A drum set | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you worry about everything now.” His voice cracked. “Ever since Dad left, it’s like you stopped believing in good surprises. I thought if I could just finish the video, show you how amazing you still are…”
Tears welled and fell before I could stop them. All this time, I’d been so worried about what he was hiding. Never once did I consider he might be worried about me too.
A woman crying | Source: Pexels
“You could have just talked to me,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him.
“Would you have listened?” He looked up at me, suddenly seeming older than 11. “You always say you’re fine, but I hear you crying sometimes. And you never sing anymore, except in the shower.”
I pulled him close, feeling his thin shoulders shake. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess we’ve both been keeping too many things inside.”
We stayed in silence for a few minutes before I remembered something. “Oh! Is Mr. Arthur’s studio on 1247 Maple Street?”
A music studio | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” Drake said, but then frowned. “How did you know?”
“In the interest of honesty…” I began and confessed to rummaging through his backpack. Shockingly, we just laughed at each other.
***
The next day, we visited Mr. Arthur’s studio together. He turned out to be a gentle giant with calloused hands and kind eyes, surrounded by dusty guitars and vintage recording equipment.
Music equipment | Source: Pexels
“Your boy’s got talent,” he told me and showed me more of Drake’s videos. “And so do you.”
And now that the secrets were out, Drake and I finally finished the jigsaw puzzle together. I also sang outside the shower for the first time in years.
What’s more, next week, I’m singing at the coffee shop again. My son will be there, recording every moment. This time, I won’t be afraid of a little camera.
A woman singing a microphone | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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