(See the slave’s short hairstyle compared to her mistress’s well-tended-to locks on this grave marker.) Stephens, “Ancient Roman Hairdressing: On (hair)pins and needles,” Journal of Roman Archaeology 21 (2008): 111–133Īll hair endeavors for the wealthy Roman woman would have fallen under the domain of an ornatrix, or beauty expert specifically skilled at cutting and dyeing hair-depicted, ironically, as short-haired throughout Greek and Roman art as suited her slave status. Not unlike Kim Kardashian’s beauty routine, hair was the first step in any Roman woman’s prep, notes author Seneca. Just like for men, hair was a major determinant of both respectability and physical attractiveness for women. So to be bald, or not to be? You can’t win. Because both balding and going grey were associated with deteriorating health and generally losing your marbles, hair dye proved a popular practice amongst Roman men.īut dyeing one’s hair also served as a prime opportunity for ridicule, and any man attempting to disguise a receding hairline was in for a relentless mocking from poets (and, presumably, sassy Roman teenagers): Hair dyes were often extracted from bark or walnut shells, carbon, or straight ash-materials also used to dye textiles. As an example of the unfortunate propensities of real hair, see the wispy, greying locks of this stumbling and aged follower of Dionysos, tired after a long night of drinking.įresco Fragment Depicting an Old Silenos with Kantharos and Thyrsos (detail), Roman, A.D. Men would dye their hair and have it curled in an attempt to avoid greying or thinning, and to preserve any youthful, Jon Hamm-like features. Ugly are hornless bulls, a field without grass is an eyesore, So is a tree without leaves, so is a head without hair. The horror of baldness also appears in poetry: The famously bald (and somewhat defeatist) Emperor Domitian lost many a night’s sleep over his hair loss ( Emperors, they’re just like us!):īe assured that nothing is more pleasing, Paul Getty Museum, 96.AA.39 Image: Bruce White PhotographyĮspecially in the Republican period, from 509 to 27 B.C., Roman portrait patrons often chose to be presented with glisteningly bald heads, large noses, and extra wrinkles to express the years they had devoted to the Roman state.īut despite the air of patriotism associated with baldness, it would seem that a receding hairline outside the realm of portraiture wasn’t nearly as desirable. Male Baldness and Its DiscontentsĪ signifier of wisdom, gravitas (dignity), and severitas (sternness), male pattern baldness was considered an ideal characteristic of an upstanding Roman citizen, and was used to convey venerability on portraits of philosophers. So although there’s no evidence that Seneca actually said the zinger above, as an ancient Roman he definitely should have.Īs a classics student, my interests in the ancient world lie less in wars and dates, and more in recognizably human themes, such as vanity, the natural inclination to poke fun at your elders, and the timeless misery of hair. Roman attitudes toward hair (or lack thereof) differed immensely depending on age, sex, and social status, and was known to be a source of anguish for both Roman men and women. Much like Donald Trump, men and women in ancient Rome were very conscious of their coiffures. I don’t consider myself bald, I’m just taller than my hair. Portrait Head of a Balding Man, Roman, about A.D.