somewhere south of Troy and east of Lesbos. This happened to be a region with olive oil production and the related creation of cosmetics, but although a knowledge of beauty treatments was later useful, Lachne had in fact wangled a career ornamenting the adult Flavian women simply because she wanted to avoid getting stuck as a nursery carer. So another slave called Phyllis was subsequently able to boast she had looked after the infant Domitian and Titus’ daughter Julia, while instead Lachne plaited and coiffed her mistresses. It appeared, even to her own offspring, that she did not like children. This was felt keenly by her daughter Lucilla.
Like most mothers, Lachne believed she had brought up her children well. Nobody could complain there was a lack of love (thought Lachne) yet there was little demonstration of it (thought Lucilla). The pair had lived together for fifteen years, shared meals and chores, sometimes went shopping, very occasionally had outings to see acquaintances, rarely quarrelled, but often failed to communicate. Lachne would have said she knew her daughter inside out; the reserved Lucilla would have scoffed. But Lucilla did know Lachne. There was much about her mother that she tended to despise, though she generally refrained from argument or attempting to change her.
Lucilla had barely reached her teens when a subtle shift in their relationship came, and it was over the famous Flavian hairstyle. Then, Lachne seriously needed her.
The Flavian women were not tall. This was never recorded by poets or historians who, unless there was scandal to report, only cared to mention women’s names and their marriages. Up until now no Flavian ladies had inspired scurrilous writing, where physical attributes might have been mocked. Even the existence of Antonia Caenis, Vespasian’s ex-slave concubine, had caused more surprise than censure. Julia’s reputation would be fouled, though not yet. Domitian’s wife was said to brag about her conquests, though perhaps this was a vindictive slur, retaliation because she was proud and ignored critics contemptuously. Most Flavian women stayed silent and practically invisible. That included Flavia Domitilla whom Lachne and Lucilla knew best. Her mother had been Vespasian’s daughter.
The Flavian ladies’ moderate height can be deduced from the extremely tall hairstyle that Lachne devised for them. She was a good hairdresser. She understood impact. Despite moving with the slow sway of a pregnant dairy cow, as the darting Lucilla saw it, Lachne always did her job. She knew how to suggest brightly that a rather dumpy, ordinary-featured, unassuming, no-longer-young woman, perhaps wearied by pregnancies and children dying, or simply depressed by long years of humouring a husband, might cheer herself up with a new look. This carried a promise of renewed marital excitement, not to mention a subtle gloss that the put-upon client was a woman of worth; she still possessed needs, desires, allure and sexual fire of her own.
Having a good eye and more creativity than her sleepy manner implied, Lachne became so much loved by the Flavian ladies that she won her freedom on the strength of it, though on condition that as a member of the extended Flavian ‘
familia
’ she would always remain available to do her ladies’ hair. Intent on escaping drudgery, Lachne moved out – one advantage of becoming a freedwoman was that she had now some choice in this – but she always lived very close to the most important Flavian women. She could be summoned in an emergency, though was not on instant call. Lachne had time to herself and if she shooed Lucilla out of doors she could freely entertain men.
So Lucilla had grown up near the Quirinal Hill in the Seventh Region. By the age of fifteen, part of the tension with her mother came from Lachne’s determination to keep control of her. Lachne herself no longer had nimble hands. Lucilla’s small, extremely dexterous fingers were essential for
Like most mothers, Lachne believed she had brought up her children well. Nobody could complain there was a lack of love (thought Lachne) yet there was little demonstration of it (thought Lucilla). The pair had lived together for fifteen years, shared meals and chores, sometimes went shopping, very occasionally had outings to see acquaintances, rarely quarrelled, but often failed to communicate. Lachne would have said she knew her daughter inside out; the reserved Lucilla would have scoffed. But Lucilla did know Lachne. There was much about her mother that she tended to despise, though she generally refrained from argument or attempting to change her.
Lucilla had barely reached her teens when a subtle shift in their relationship came, and it was over the famous Flavian hairstyle. Then, Lachne seriously needed her.
The Flavian women were not tall. This was never recorded by poets or historians who, unless there was scandal to report, only cared to mention women’s names and their marriages. Up until now no Flavian ladies had inspired scurrilous writing, where physical attributes might have been mocked. Even the existence of Antonia Caenis, Vespasian’s ex-slave concubine, had caused more surprise than censure. Julia’s reputation would be fouled, though not yet. Domitian’s wife was said to brag about her conquests, though perhaps this was a vindictive slur, retaliation because she was proud and ignored critics contemptuously. Most Flavian women stayed silent and practically invisible. That included Flavia Domitilla whom Lachne and Lucilla knew best. Her mother had been Vespasian’s daughter.
The Flavian ladies’ moderate height can be deduced from the extremely tall hairstyle that Lachne devised for them. She was a good hairdresser. She understood impact. Despite moving with the slow sway of a pregnant dairy cow, as the darting Lucilla saw it, Lachne always did her job. She knew how to suggest brightly that a rather dumpy, ordinary-featured, unassuming, no-longer-young woman, perhaps wearied by pregnancies and children dying, or simply depressed by long years of humouring a husband, might cheer herself up with a new look. This carried a promise of renewed marital excitement, not to mention a subtle gloss that the put-upon client was a woman of worth; she still possessed needs, desires, allure and sexual fire of her own.
Having a good eye and more creativity than her sleepy manner implied, Lachne became so much loved by the Flavian ladies that she won her freedom on the strength of it, though on condition that as a member of the extended Flavian ‘
familia
’ she would always remain available to do her ladies’ hair. Intent on escaping drudgery, Lachne moved out – one advantage of becoming a freedwoman was that she had now some choice in this – but she always lived very close to the most important Flavian women. She could be summoned in an emergency, though was not on instant call. Lachne had time to herself and if she shooed Lucilla out of doors she could freely entertain men.
So Lucilla had grown up near the Quirinal Hill in the Seventh Region. By the age of fifteen, part of the tension with her mother came from Lachne’s determination to keep control of her. Lachne herself no longer had nimble hands. Lucilla’s small, extremely dexterous fingers were essential for
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