perfumes. The doors of Sargon II’s eighth-century B.C. palace in what is now Khorsabad were so scented that they would waft perfume when visitors entered or left. Pharaonic barges and coffins were made of cedarwood. The temple of Diana at Ephesus, one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world, which had columns almost sixty feet high, survived for two hundred years, then burned down in 356 B.C. , aromatically aflame. Legend says that, in shame or as an offering, it burned when Alexander the Great was born.
Ancient he-men were heavily perfumed. In a way, strong scents widened their presence, extended their territory. In the pre-Greek culture of Crete, athletes anointed themselves with specific aromatic oils before the games. Greek writers of around 400 B.C. recommended mint for the arms, thyme for the knees, cinnamon, rose, or palm oil for the jaws and chest, almond oil for the hands and feet, and marjoram for the hair and eyebrows. Egyptian men, attending a dinner party, would receive garlands of flowers and their choice of perfumes at the door. Flower petals would be scattered underfoot, so they could make a fragrant stir when guests trod on them. Statues at these banquets often spurted scented water from their several orifices. Before retiring, a man would crush solid perfume until it was an oily powder and scatter it onto his bed so that he could absorb its scent while he slept. Homer describes the obligatory courtesy of offering visitors a bath and aromatic oils. Alexander the Great was a lavish user of both perfumes and incense, and was fond enough of saffron to have his tunics soaked in its essence. Babylonian and Syrian men wore heavy makeup and jewelry, as well as laboriously arranged coiffures of tiny ringlets set with perfumed lotions. In ancient Rome, the passion reached such heights that both men and women took baths in perfume, soaked their clothes in it, and perfumed their horses and household pets. The gladiators appliedscented lotions all over—a different scent for each area of the body—before they fought. And, like other Roman men and women, they used pigeon dung to bleach their hair. In their equivalent of a locker room, before a gory contest with a lion, crocodile, or man, they might have been talking rough, but their hands were applying sweet scents. Roman women applied scents to different parts of their bodies, just as Roman men did, and I imagine they spent some time deciding whether sandalwood feet and jasmine breasts went well with a neroli neck and lavender thighs. With Christianity came a Spartan devotion to restraint, a fear of seeming self-indulgent, and so men stopped wearing scents for a while. (Even so, a religious symbolism attached to favorite flowers and their scents. For example, the carnation was in favor because its smell resembles that of cloves, and cloves themselves resemble the nails that were driven into Christ’s cross.) As John Trueman puts it in
The Romantic Story of Scent:
“The men of the ancient world were clean and scented. European men of the Dark Ages were dirty and unscented. Those of medieval times, and of modern times up to about the end of the 17th century, were dirty and scented.… Nineteenth-century men were clean and unscented.” But men seldom wandered far afield from desirable scents. The crusaders returned from their travails wearing rose water. Louis XIV kept a stable of servants just to perfume his rooms with rose water and marjoram, to wash his shirts and other apparel in a stew of cloves, nutmeg, aloe, jasmine, orange water, and musk; he insisted that a new perfume be invented for him every day. At “The Perfumed Court” of Louis XV, servants used to drench doves in different scents and release them at dinner parties, to weave a tapestry of aromas as they flew around the guests. The Puritans did away with scents, but soon enough men took them up again.
An eighteenth-century woman’s dressing called for elaborate preparations and a discerning nose:
Ancient he-men were heavily perfumed. In a way, strong scents widened their presence, extended their territory. In the pre-Greek culture of Crete, athletes anointed themselves with specific aromatic oils before the games. Greek writers of around 400 B.C. recommended mint for the arms, thyme for the knees, cinnamon, rose, or palm oil for the jaws and chest, almond oil for the hands and feet, and marjoram for the hair and eyebrows. Egyptian men, attending a dinner party, would receive garlands of flowers and their choice of perfumes at the door. Flower petals would be scattered underfoot, so they could make a fragrant stir when guests trod on them. Statues at these banquets often spurted scented water from their several orifices. Before retiring, a man would crush solid perfume until it was an oily powder and scatter it onto his bed so that he could absorb its scent while he slept. Homer describes the obligatory courtesy of offering visitors a bath and aromatic oils. Alexander the Great was a lavish user of both perfumes and incense, and was fond enough of saffron to have his tunics soaked in its essence. Babylonian and Syrian men wore heavy makeup and jewelry, as well as laboriously arranged coiffures of tiny ringlets set with perfumed lotions. In ancient Rome, the passion reached such heights that both men and women took baths in perfume, soaked their clothes in it, and perfumed their horses and household pets. The gladiators appliedscented lotions all over—a different scent for each area of the body—before they fought. And, like other Roman men and women, they used pigeon dung to bleach their hair. In their equivalent of a locker room, before a gory contest with a lion, crocodile, or man, they might have been talking rough, but their hands were applying sweet scents. Roman women applied scents to different parts of their bodies, just as Roman men did, and I imagine they spent some time deciding whether sandalwood feet and jasmine breasts went well with a neroli neck and lavender thighs. With Christianity came a Spartan devotion to restraint, a fear of seeming self-indulgent, and so men stopped wearing scents for a while. (Even so, a religious symbolism attached to favorite flowers and their scents. For example, the carnation was in favor because its smell resembles that of cloves, and cloves themselves resemble the nails that were driven into Christ’s cross.) As John Trueman puts it in
The Romantic Story of Scent:
“The men of the ancient world were clean and scented. European men of the Dark Ages were dirty and unscented. Those of medieval times, and of modern times up to about the end of the 17th century, were dirty and scented.… Nineteenth-century men were clean and unscented.” But men seldom wandered far afield from desirable scents. The crusaders returned from their travails wearing rose water. Louis XIV kept a stable of servants just to perfume his rooms with rose water and marjoram, to wash his shirts and other apparel in a stew of cloves, nutmeg, aloe, jasmine, orange water, and musk; he insisted that a new perfume be invented for him every day. At “The Perfumed Court” of Louis XV, servants used to drench doves in different scents and release them at dinner parties, to weave a tapestry of aromas as they flew around the guests. The Puritans did away with scents, but soon enough men took them up again.
An eighteenth-century woman’s dressing called for elaborate preparations and a discerning nose:
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