ROMAN CLOTHES, SICILIAN FABRICS

The male dalmatic - long and wide sleeved tunic

The sunrise welcomes me, its light reflected on the mosaic tiles marking my face for centuries. I'm here, at the entrance of this sumptuous residence, and I am the one welcoming you.

I wear a dalmatic, the long-sleeved tunic that reached Rome from the land of Dalmatia: soft, wide, status symbol. I have on my head a wreath of oak leaves. It's a symbol of strength and honor, a memory of civic virtues. Its foliage never withers, fixed in the green tiles forever. From this pavement I watch you walking in, one after the other. Your footsteps stream past my image, and I keep speaking of a Sicily that weaved wool and history together.

The female dalmatic - long and wide sleeved tunic

I stride towards the baths as the afternoon sun slides between the columns. My silken dalmatic is fresh on the skin and brushes my ankles at every step. Of the vests it's my favorite: the fabric is embellished with gold, gems and tinted glass.

I walk slowly, as befits a woman of my status. I think of the warmth of the tepidarium and of its fragrant steam: soon I'll leave my tunic to the servants and I'll dive into the quiet rhythm of the bath. But for now I savor this short walk.

The square tunic

I'm the domina's favorite servant and I walk beside her as she strides torwards the baths. I'm charged with all that is needed for the bath: slippers, soft towel, comb, polished mirror and perfumed balms in small vases.

I'm wearing a long yellow tunic hanging down to my feet and, in the leather bag I carefully carry, I keep the clean robes that my lady will be wearing at the end of her bath.

Cut and sewn cloaks - the paenula

I walk beside the domina, as required by the respect due her status. The paenula falls on my shoulders and closes on my chest, the heavy fabric still covered in dust after the journey of this morning. It's a short hooded cape, suitable to the road and the hunt, and as I walk I feel its familiar weight shifting at every step, softened by functional sandals.

The hunters' clothing

We rest in the shade of the fronds and the tents that we laid between the trees. After the hunt the body is tired but the heart is light. We lean on the pillow, stretching behind our legs protected by the fasciae crurales. Roasted game still perfumes the air. We stretch a hand to grab a piece of meat, sharing the meal, as it befits young men who has journeyed together troughs the woods. Even my loyal dog claims his share! The short tunics richly decorated show our lineage. We drink water to restore us and wine to celebrate the good luck of the day. We share words and laughter between bites, while the trees shade us from the sun and the silence of the place returns our strength.

The long and tight sleeved tunic

I stand to the side, watching my comrades. Some are still busy in the hunt between the trees, others are readying a sacrifice to Artemis, lady of the woods and game. The smoke of the offer rises slowly in the quiet air of the clearing. I'm wearing my short tunic, fitted to move between paths and brambles, and the fasciae crurales curl around my legs, protecting them during exercise. I follow with my eyes the movements of my companions and the rite they respectfully perform. In this moment the hunt stops and the woods seem to listen with us. We offer the goddess her due, so that she keeps guiding our steps between the trees and granting us us good luck in the future hunts. 

Cloaks fastened by a fibula - the chlamys

Who am I? It's a lingering mystery between you watching me.

I am now on with the years. The pileus covers my head and the chlamys, a heavy cape, falls on my shoulder as I lean on the cane that supports my slow but still sure steps.
The men in front of me struggle, guide and push the animals as they are loaded on boats. I watch them in silence as they climb onto the ships setting sail for Rome. There, the games awaits them, the roar of the crowd, the arena. I watch everything with attention: I'm the owner of the villa and these trades happen under my watchful gaze. I don't need to speak. My presence alone is enough to remember everything who's the owner of these lands and expeditions.

Underwear - the perizoma (loincloth)

I am amongst the first to arrive in the baths, when they are still quiet. With a bucket full of water and a mop I scrub the floor and drain the water, cleaning off the dust and residue from the previous day. The work is slow and repetitive, but it must be carried out with care in order to make everything shine again.

I'm only wearing a perizoma, fit for the heat of the rooms, and an anklet that jingles as I move. The slave collar wraps around my neck, a telltale sign of my status.

I bend down, pour the water, mop again and again the mosaic tiles and the marbles. Soon the baths will be filled by voices, steam and scents. I'll already have vanished between the service corridors, ready to go back once there's to clean up again.

Children tunic

I curiously look around, trying to not miss any of what's happening nearby. My green tunic goes down to my knees and moves lightly as I take a couple of uncertain steps. Everything looks big and full of things to discover, in the villa: people talking, the noises of the daily activities, the continuous movement of who's passing nearby. I stand still for a moment, as if every detail could tell me something new. I don't know yet where to look first, and maybe that's the beauty of it: the world in front of me looks full of surprises.

The greek tunic

I raise the cup to Polyphemus, watching carefully his every movement. The wine I'm offering is strong, capable of dazing even a stout man, and I hope the giant is suspecting nothing of my intentions. I'm wearing a tunic, a cloak falling on my shoulders and a helm marking my rank of warrior. But in this moment I'm not guided by the strength of weapons: it's wit.

«Drink», I tell him in a calm voice, handing him the wine in sign of false friendship. I know in my heart, though, that the survival of my comrades and mine depends on this gesture.

The toga

I rise from my seat as the roar of the crowd dies down little by little. The chariot race is over and everybody's eyes are on me. My white tunic falls neatly along my body, covered by the toga contabulata, sign of my office of judge of this competition. In my hand I hold a palm leaf, symbol of victory. Shortly I'll handle it to the winner, who's waiting on his chariot with the horses still panting after the run.

Cloaks fastened by a fibula - the laena

I raise the tuba to my lips and let the clear sound of the instrument spread in the space around me. I'm the tubicen, my job is to give the signal, accompany the solemn moments and guide with music what's about to happen. I'm wearing a laurel wreath on my head, symbol of honor for my role, while a white tunic falls simply along the body. On my shoulder I wear the laena, a red fringed cloak that's moving lightly at every breath I take to play.

I stand firm at my position, focused. On my signal, everything takes shape: the crowd listens, the men wait, and the call of the tuba marks the start of the solemn moment of the race.

The lovers

Home, at last. I cross the threshold and the quiet of the house covers me as an embrace after a long journey. Our tunics touch as we come closer, still filled with fatigue for the road and the joy of returning. We stop, for an instant, looking at each other, and between us runs the sparkle of an awaited kiss. Our lips meet slowly, with the sweetness of who feels finally safe between their own walls. The world outside can wait. Here there are only the warmth of the house, the light rustling of the tunics and that kiss marking our return.

The banquet

The stibadium was a large semicircular couch used during banquets of the Roman élite, especially in the late antique era. During banquets the attendees leaned on a long pillow, just like in the open air banquets, while in the middle was set the semicircular table with dishes, wine and food. Slaves and servants could move in the free space in front of the table to bring food, clean the hosts' hands or entertain the diners with music and performances. This type of arrangement was also present in the triapsidal triclinium of the Villa Romana del Casale.

The world of competitions - sports underwear

My strength is well known, and I show it off lifting weights, the halteres, with my trained arms. Fascia and perizoma allow me to prove my talent without cumbersome clothes hindering me. I'm admired for my physical endurance, my great pride; I worked long to achieve these results and proudly take part in the games.

The discus throw is my discipline; the servant has skillfully styled my long hair in a braided bun so that they don't hinder me in the match. Regardless of the necessary functionality of the clothes covering me, I can't resist showing off my jewelry: earrings, necklace, wristbands and anklets. I have been wearing them since my first match as precious lucky charms and I would feel lost without them.

I'm wearing my light two-piece, the one fitted for running and exercise. My parents wanted me to join in the contests, and I do it with the pride of who knows that women too can show strength, ability and discipline as much as the men. The sun heats the field as I run. There's my team-mate next to me, from a noble family too. We share a knowing look: we run together in the relay. I don't run only for victory, but to prove that courage and effort don't belong to one gender only. When I'll set off, I'll use all my energy, bringing with me the honor of my house.

I'm awaiting with trepidation the rose wreath prepared for my head, already adorned with an elegant turban-like hairstyle. I've been the best at the wheel game, which I balance in my hand. The girl next to me is wearing a beautiful golden toga, which likens her to the figure of a judge of the races.

Satisfaction grows in my chest as I raise the rose wreath, holding in my hand the long palm of victory. I didn't expect to get to this point, I'm proud of myself. Only a trip to the baths could improve this day; I can't wait to change from this simple fascia to more elegant clothes.

My team-mate raises the colorful ball, and my eyes follow it expertly. To me this match isn't only a competition, but also a way to show off our dexterity, which is possible only thanks to the functional clothing and our tied hair. The thought of competing in the games with a long tunic is so funny that I almost get distracted, for a moment.

Villa's layout