Ancient Roman beauty secrets: From crocodile dung to snail slime

Roman women loved fair, flawless skin above all. Specifically, a smooth, pale complexion was considered to be the ultimate mark of beauty.

To achieve this, women prepared their faces with various treatments before applying any makeup in order to hide wrinkles, freckles, blemishes or sunspots.

It appears that they favoured treatments that used naturally occurring ingredients like milk, honey, oils, or eggs for nourishment and moisturizing.

In fact, the poet Ovid recorded recipes including barley, egg whites, honey and frankincense.

However, wealthy women such as Cleopatra VII and Nero’s wife Poppaea took these ideas to an extreme, as they famously bathed in donkey milk in an effort to soften their skin and make it appear as youthful as possible.

On the other hand, some treatments, even though they were natural, were outright strange: apparently women would apply lanolin, which was the sweat from sheep’s wool, as a night cream, despite its reportedly distinctly sour odour that men often complained about.

Other cosmetic concoctions might include ingredients like plant juices and seeds, animal by-products, such as placenta and marrow, or even excrement and urine.

One particularly odd treatment invovled snail ashes from burnt snail shells which was said to be able to fade freckles, or the claim that swan’s fat and bean meal mixed together could smooth away wrinkles.

There is even reports that people pasted a small soft leather patch over pimple scars or blemishes, as an early version of beauty patches, which could hide branding marks on run-away slaves. 

When trying to specifically whiten the skin, Roman women often turned to a range of popular face whiteners: many would dust their face with chalk or ground white marl, or apply creams laced with white lead.

While lead-based cosmetics (called cerussa) gave a strong opaque whiteness to a person's face, it was at a shockingly toxic cost.

Lead was a metal and a nasty poison that would slowly kill the user the more they used it.

The Romans seemed to be aware of this, so some safer substitutes were developed.

For example, a remarkable archaeological find from 2nd-century London unearthed a sealed tin canister that still had some of the Roman face cream inside it intact.

Modern scientific analysis of the contents showed it was made of animal fat and starch mixed with tin oxide, which created a smooth white lotion.

When rubbed in, this cream would have left a pale, powdery finish. The tin oxide in this version was the key pigment to whitening the skin, likely chosen because tin from mines in Britain was a less toxic stand-in for the lead.

Unlike the mass-produced products of our modern world, private beauty routines in the ancient world had to be prepared individually by man women.

As a result, they had to buy and learn to use a range of applicators and grinders to help create their lotions.

Archaeologists have unearthed cosmetic toolkits containing mortars for mixing ingredients and spatulae or spoon tools that would have been primarily relied up to apply their creams.

As much as we've focused on one gender so far, it is true that both women and men also engaged in hair removal as part of grooming.

Any hair on a woman’s body, aside from the hair on her head, was considered unattractive, so they plucked eyebrows and used tweezers to remove stray hairs elsewhere.

They also practiced 'body depilation' using razors, or by applying resin or wax depilatory pastes and then ripping them off in a way similar to modern an early form of waxing.

Alternatively, pumice stones could be used to scrape off stubble.  

Of all of the beauty practices we know from ancient Rome, it appears that hairstyles were the one that changed the most often.

For women, elaborate hairstyles were an indication of elevated social status and, in different periods of the Empire, fashionable ladies piled their hair into various combinations of curls, braids, and buns.

By the 1st and 2nd centuries AD, affluent Roman women might sport towering layers of curls on the front of the head, as seen in busts of Flavian-era ladies, or a cascade of ringlets gathered in the back.

Many of these styles would have been impossible for a single person to do on their own, so would have required considerable help from a skilled hairdresser or slave (known as an ornatrix).

Men’s hair ideals were quite opposite. An adult freeborn man kept his hair relatively short and neatly groomed, since excessively long or styled hair on men was viewed as too effeminate.

So, most men during the early imperial period were usually clean-shaven, but by the late 2nd century, a series of emperors like Hadrian began to popularise trimmed beards, even thought the hair on the head remained controlled. 

The tools they used to style their hair are still very familiar to us today. Combs made of bone or ivory, with both wide and fine teeth, were commonly used to detangle and part hair.

Likewise, hairpins (known as an acus) of bone, bronze, or precious metals were used to fasten hairstyles, while others had ornate heads with jewels or carvings, and were primarily used for adornment to indicate the owner’s wealth.

When wanting to create curls, the Romans had something called a calamistrum, which was a kind of curving iron curling iron.

It was a hollow metal rod heated in hot ash, around which locks of hair were wound to form long-lasting curls.

However, this process could be arduous and somewhat dangerous. Satirical writers like Juvenal joked about the smell of singed hair and the time women spent with slaves fussing over each curl. 

To the surprise of many modern observers, changing hair colour was extremely popular among Roman women.

The exact ideal shade could shift with fashion, but blond and red hair were especially coveted at different times.

It appears that blond hair became somewhat fashionable after Roman contact with the more fair-haired Gauls and Germans to the north.

We know that prostitutes in Rome were at one time required by law to bleach their hair blond or wear yellow wigs as a way of alerting people their trade.

Regardless, most Romans with Italian heritage were brunettes. But, if they wanted to lighten their locks, they could try various bleaching agents, such as using a mixture of goat fat and beechwood ash, as noted by Pliny the Elder.

For a bright blonde colour, women could apply a rinse of saffron dyes. Ovid mentions saffron as a useful herb for dyeing hair.

On the other end, those desiring jet-black hair had perhaps the most grotesque recipe: Pliny suggested fermenting leeches in red wine for 40 days, then using the resulting slimy mixture as a black hair dye. 

When natural hair wasn’t enough, Romans could turn to wigs known as capillamenta and even extensions.

Some elite women reportedly amassed large collections of wigs in assorted styles and colours.

The Empress Faustina the Elder, wife of Marcus Aurelius, supposedly owned at least 300 of them.

Most of the time, wigs were made of real human hair. The most prized hair for wig-making was blond hair sourced from Gaul and auburn hair from India.

So, a wealthy Roman matron could don a towering blonde wig one day and a demure dark coiffure the next.

Men, too, sometimes resorted to wigs, although this was usually kept secret.

Suetonius writes that Emperor Otho wore a finely crafted wig to hide his thinning hair, so natural-looking that “no one suspected” it was fake.

Even Emperor Domitian apparently also wore wigs to conceal hist baldness.

Overall, hairpieces and wigs like this were expensive luxuries only the rich could afford.

As a result, moralists often mocked people who wore them. Satirist Martial joked about women who suddenly appeared in public with different coloured hair, clearly thanks to wigs. 

But what about poorer women? It seems that they kept hairstyles simpler: a basic bun or knot.

On a practical level, they lacked the time or resources for complex styles paraded by the rich.

However, some cosmetic practices did seem to trickle down. For example, evidence from Roman Britain shows that even in provincial towns, women used cosmetic pastes and ‘cosmetic grinders’ to prepare hair dyes.

At the very least, we are told, that a peasant woman might wash her hair with vinegar and comb it simply.

Although a pale face was desired, Roman women used rouge sparingly to add a healthy tint.

Commonly, they would gently dab on red pigments derived from natural sources.

Red ochre (iron oxide earth pigment) was popular, especially a high-quality form imported from Belgica that gave a nice hue when finely ground.

Or, another expensive option was cinnabar (mercury sulfide), despite knowledge of its toxicity, it was still used for its vibrant color.

More everyday rouges included roses or poppy petals crushed to stain the cheeks, or alkanet root infused in oil.

Some even mixed in a bit of wine dregs or mulberry juice as cheap blush tints; however, a few unconventional ingredients show up too: Pliny claimed crocodile dung could be employed to produce a ruddy color on the skin.

Although, one imagines this might have been a more exotic cure or a humorous aside.

Nevertheless, even the ancient writers noted that moderation was key, as too much rouge looked garish.

Plutarch observed that overly heavy rouge made a woman appear showy, and Martial quipped that thick makeup would “melt in the sun” on a hot day. 

Interestingly, the Romans also had a form of mascara. To achieve the large, dark, dramatic eyes with long lashes that were considered alluring, Roman women applied eyeliner and eyeshadow.

It was generically referred to as kohl, from the middle eastern term, although Romans had their own words like stibium or collyrium.

Kohl could be black, grey, brown, or even green. The classic Roman eyeliner was made from stibnite (antimony sulfide) or galena (lead sulfide), which produced a shiny black line.

Alternatively, soot from lamps or charcoal was another accessible source of black pigment but was often used by lower-class women who couldn’t afford imported minerals.

The kohl was typically stored as a fine powder or a hardened cake in small cosmetic jars.

Then, to apply it, women used a slender stick or probe of wood or bone, dipped in water or oil and then dipped into the powder.

They would draw this across the eyelids and could be extended outward for a subtle almond-eye effect.

In addition, women shaded their eyelids using a softer charcoal or ash that could be smudged on the lids for a smoky look.

Some fashionable individuals used colored shadows, such as green shades made from malachite (a copper mineral) that were inherited from Egyptian trends and used especially in the eastern provinces; blue could be made from azurite or crushed lapis lazuli for those who could get it. 

Roman women also had a form of lipstick. A subtle lip tint could be applied using red dyes similar to the rouges from red ochre or fruit extracts.

One common product was fucus, a generic name for a red cosmetic that could be used on lips or cheeks.

This might be made from algae or lichens that produced a red dye, or simply from mixtures of the aforementioned wine sediments or mulberry juice. The goal was likely a healthy pinkish-red lip, though not overly conspicuous.

Sadly, we don’t hear as much about lipsticks in literature, possibly because a lot of the same substances used on cheeks doubled for lips, and perhaps because men writing about women’s makeup focused more on the face and eyes. 

In a world before deodorants and daily showers, perfume was often a necessity to counter bad odours.

As a result, scent was associated with health and allure. A woman who smelled good was thought to be both attractive and virtuous, as opposed to the stench of sweat or strong cosmetics, which men satirized.

So, Romans, especially the wealthy, doused themselves in perfumes and perfumed oils after bathing, massaged fragrant oils into their hair and skin, and even perfumed their clothes and bedding. 

Such perfumes were typically in the form of oils or balms, since distillation to make alcohol-based perfumes came much later.

The base was usually olive oil or almond oil, sometimes specially processed. One premium base oil was omphacium and was made from unripe olives and grape juice. Into these oils, perfumers infused all manner of aromatic materials.

Popular floral ingredients included roses, violets, lilies, and lavender, as these flowers could be locally sourced around the Mediterranean, where Roman trade could move commodities quickly and easily.

Herbs and fruits were used too, such as rosemary, basil, citrus rinds, quince, and pomegranate.

For more exotic and lasting scents, the Romans used cinnamon, cardamom, saffron, and myrrh.

One legendary ingredient was opobalsam. This was balsam of Judea, and an expensive resin that produced a rich incense-like perfume. It was often simply called the ‘balm of Gilead’.

Another classic elite perfume mentioned by Pliny was Susinum, which was repordetly made from lily (Susinum means “of the lily”).

Similiarly, there was something called Telinum, which was an ointment of fenugreek, marjoram and clover.

The latter was a said to have been a favourite of Julius Caesar, who “covered himself” in its scent. 

Evidence also indicates that Romans had perfume, and its use cut across the various social lines, though the cost of good perfume meant that the quality varied.

Rich patricians would use imported essences lavishly. Emperor Nero was infamous for his excess, reportedly spending 4 million sesterces on a single banquet where he sprinkled the guests with a shower of rose-scented oil from the ceiling.

As trade expanded, even cheaper blends became available in the markets, and the Romans remarked that even the poorest would try a bit of fragrance if they could.

Soldiers returning from the East brought back new scents, and the usage of perfume became linked with the idea of Eastern excess.

That said, truly fine perfumes were still a luxury. Pliny and other authors tell us of perfumes so costly that they were stored in tiny vials of gold and sold for incredibly high prices.

Emperor Tiberius once complained that Rome was spending 100 million sesterces a year on foreign fragrances, which drained wealth in exchange for “smell”.

This was likely hyperbole, but it shows how obsessed Romans had become with scent as a status symbol.

Perfume shops that run were by unguentarii did brisk business in cities. People would perfume their hair.

One description even has someone perfuming their horse and pet dog.  

The physical evidence of Roman perfumery is abundant thanks to the survival of beautiful perfume bottles, known as unguentaria.

These could be simple blown-glass vials or decorated containers of alabaster, gold, or simply carved stone.

Some bottles were shaped whimsically in little animal or fruit shapes, while others were practical double-chambered tubes allowing two scents in one package.

The fact that many of these containers are found in graves or sometimes even in male graves or child burials shows that perfume was valued enough to accompany the dead, possibly for use in the afterlife or as a sign of the individual’s refined life on earth.

One extraordinary archaeological discovery in Spain was a sealed glass perfume bottle from a 2,000-year-old tomb, which still contained remnants of its fragrance.

Chemical analysis revealed one of the key ingredients was patchouli oil, derived from a plant in Southeast Asia.

This was a surprise to researchers, as patchouli was not previously known to be used by Romans; its presence illustrates the far reach of Rome’s trade network. 

For everyday folk, cheaper perfumes might use local ingredients like costus (an Indian root) or cyprus (henna flowers) mixed into olive oil.

These would be sold in ceramic or plain glass jars. We also have recipes from writers like Pliny describing how to make simple perfumes by steeping flowers in oil and adding a touch of resin.

In addition, perfumes were used in other cosmetic ways. For instance, women perfumed their cosmetics like face creams might be rose-scented, and potpourri or perfumed sachets were placed in clothing chests. 

Perfume in Rome was somewhat more gender-neutral than color cosmetics, as both men and women enjoyed good scents, though women probably used them more overtly as part of beauty.

Interestingly, male moralists did caution men against overusing perfume, since an overly perfumed man might be seen as decadent or even immoral.

For instance, some Stoics argued that a man should smell of nothing but the smoke of sacrifice and the oil of the bathhouse, not of flowery unguents.

Still, many men did indulge. Important to note, perfumes and incense were offered to gods, used to anoint bodies at funerals, and to celebrate victories.

So, fragrance had sacred connotations too.