Trailing clouds of perfume

In his robust new biography of Alcibiades, David Stuttard describes how the mercurial Greek general shocked his contemporaries by adopting Persian customs:

Certainly, he embraced their lifestyle, tying his hair up in a bun, curling his well-oiled beard (a symbol of machismo in the Persian court), dousing himself in the perfumes for which Sardis was so famous, and dressing not just in sumptuous robes and beautifully fringed tunics of linen, wool and mohair (deep-dyed in vibrant reds and vivid yellows, and adorned with ornaments in glittering gold foil), but in those other garments so associated by Athenians with decadent, eastern effeminacy: trousers.

I’ll be honest. After reading this showcase sentence, I glanced with new eyes at the pair of Olive Spoke Fives that I happened to be wearing. Because I had assumed that, with their jean cut and chunky brass rivets, these were as manly a pair of strides as money could buy. I wasn’t wrong — but I was forced to accept that, if I were somehow transported back in time to 5th-century BC Greece, my Spokes would seem a gratuitous affectation. And it made me realise what an ocean of difference separates us from the Athens of Alcibiades.

This was a society whose days began and ended at sunrise and sunset. No sailor would embark on a voyage of any length without first pouring libations of red wine and singing appropriate songs. Sexual relationships between adult males and adolescent boys — which are now seen as one of the last great taboos — were praised and even encouraged in Athens, on the grounds that they were conducive to the highest form of love. The point I’m making is that, if you’re trying to understand a 5th-century Athenian, you have to embark on a difficult mental voyage.