I am a Roman man. As you can see from my elaborate toga I am a government official. You can tell that I am highly ranked because of the single red stripe. I am also a Roman man, but I am not as highly ranked. I do not have a red stripe.

I feel very pretty because as a Roman woman I am always portrayed as beautiful, modest, and graceful. Can’t you tell from my ornate jewelry and beautifully styled hair that I love indulging my time to owning up to what Roman women should look like? I have also died my hair, as is the fashion now a days, but you can’t really tell because I am in fact black and white right now… Well… hmm… your jewelry is very fine indeed, but I am wearing my clothes with grace and modesty. My floor length stolla is held at my shoulders by broaches and over that I have wrapped a thin cloth called a palla and I wrap it around my waist and over my head as is sometimes customary. Although I look quite green at the moment, my stolla is actually orange, I dyed it with vegetable dyes.

Hi, I am the man of the house or the Patriarch. I have complete ruling power of my family and servants. I could even kill them if I like, and it would with the law. Hi, I’m his wife and I can’t do anything. I have no respect from anyone in society and though I am his wife, all men can still do with me as they please. He is more of a master to me than a husband, he is quite harsh and unfair. Life is pretty hard when you’re a Roman woman like me.

We are two of his slaves. We work hard out in his olive orchard some days and then others we are called to work inside the villa or house as you would call it. The work is hard and the master strict in his ruling. He is not afraid to punish us severely for mild discretions as that is customary with our time.