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Memories of Underwear in Latin Class

Since the Victorian era, people have tried to tie health benefits to certain kinds of underwear, with dubious evidence.

This article was first published in


“You will understand the joke after taking this class.”

Although it was many decades ago, I remember my high school Latin teacher’s humorous attempt to justify why we should study this ancient language.

“Semper ubi sub ubi” was the pun to which she was referring. It literally translates as “always where under where” and sounds in English like “always wear underwear.”

I guess it was funny enough for me to remember it. But interestingly, the ancient Romans did not abide by this dictum. Some Romans did wear a loincloth known as a “” under the knee-length tunic that was the standard Roman attire. But there was no, let us say, “universal coverage.” The subligaculum, as seen in Roman artworks, was more commonly worn by gladiators.

The loincloth, a single-piece garment wrapped around the waist to cover the private parts, is the predecessor for undergarments. Otzi, the famous “Tyrolean Iceman” who lived more than 5,000 years ago, was found wearing a loincloth made of sheepskin and the ancient Egyptians wore loincloths made of linen, the fibres of the flax plant.

Apparently, these garments were also needed in the afterworld, since 145 of them were found in King Tut’s tomb.

Clothing that we would recognize as underwear first appeared in Medieval Europe in the form of baggy linen or cotton trousers worn by men.

Women’s underwear, known as “drawers” since they had to be drawn up the legs, only became common in the 18th century. They had an open crotch so that ladies attired in petticoats and flowing skirts could use a chamber pot without undressing.

Queen Victoria had many such garments, some of which are displayed in museums with Her Majesty’s increasing waist size during her reign being evident.

The Victorian era also saw the first attribution of health benefits to underwear. German physician Gustav Jaeger advocated underwear made of coarse, porous wool which he claimed allowed the body to breathe while keeping it warm. Supposedly, Pasteur’s newly discovered microbes could lead to illness more easily if the body was chilled!

History does not record medical consequences other than chafed skin among people running around in wool bloomers. That term traces back to women’s-rights activist Amelia Bloomer, who promoted loose trousers gathered at the ankle and worn beneath a shortened skirt as healthier and safer than heavy floor-length skirts.

“,” patented in 1868, became popular with Victorian men as a practical, warm, one-piece flannel undergarment that featured a buttoned rear flap for bathroom use.

By the 1920s these gave way to boxer shorts, inspired by prizefighters’ trunks.

Jockey shorts appeared in the mid 1930s, the name deriving from the jockstrap that had been introduced in 1874 as a “supporter” for Boston’s “bicycle jockeys,” whose cojones had to endure the torture of riding on cobblestone streets.

Men happily wore boxers or jockeys until a controversy arose in the 1960s when a study reported that men whose testes were deliberately warmed (there is no indication as to how these volunteers were recruited or what they were offered) produced fewer sperm. Since jockey briefs hold the testes closer to the body and also reduce air circulation, it seemed plausible that they produce a warmer environment than the boxers that allow testes to hang freely.

A small pilot study in 1990 had two men alternate between jockeys and boxers and found higher sperm counts when they were wearing boxers. Hardly a significant sample size, but it was enough to inspire a 1994 Seinfeld episode in which Kramer discovers he has a low sperm count and is told to wear boxers instead of briefs. It turns out that his “boys” don’t take to the boxers and he decides to go “commando.” Who can forget his classic line: “I’m out there, Jerry — and I’m loving every minute of it!”

Another scientific connection to underwear surfaced in 1997 when the British textile company Courtaulds decided to attack the problem of the odour produced by bacteria and fungi acting on sweat and urine. The company’s scientists believed this could be tackled by incorporating an antimicrobial substance into the acrylic fibre that was being used to produce underwear.

Triclosan, an antibacterial and antifungal agent, seemed up to the task since it already had a history of being included in soaps, deodorants and toothpaste. While there was some evidence that triclosan-impregnated fabric reduced microbial growth in the lab, there was no evidence that the garments reduced odour emanating from people wearing them. In any case, triclosan-impregnated fabrics disappeared from the market when the chemical was linked with a potentially disrupting effect on aquatic organisms and the possibility that even at low levels it could promote resistance to antibiotics.

The failure of triclosan in fabrics did not slay the idea of infusing underwear with substances claiming to have a biological effect. The “Underdays” company produces women’s underwear made of fabric impregnated with probiotics and prebiotics to “support a well-balanced skin microbiome,” a rather nebulous claim.

Yogurt and other fermented foods have received a great deal of publicity lately for the health benefits associated with the live bacteria they contain, but there is precious little evidence for bacteria applied to the skin imparting any benefit.

The Underdays undies use technology developed by HeIQ, a Swiss biotechnology company that has developed a method of impregnating fabrics with dormant spores of bacteria along with prebiotics such as inulin extracted from chicory root that feed the bacteria. The idea is that when the underwear rubs against the skin, the spores are transferred to the skin where in the presence of moisture they germinate, become live, and nourished by inulin, multiply. This, goes the claim, provides a “balanced microbiome for glowing skin.” That is a difficult claim to verify, and exactly why one would want that particular part of the anatomy to glow remains a mystery.

Underday’s claims are at least somewhat sprinkled with science, unlike the utter nonsense spewed out by companies that market underwear for men embedded with magnets that produce an “energy field” to help with male sexual dysfunction and prostatitis. Needless to say, there is no credible evidence for such claims, nor for the allegation that the magnets improve circulation to the area by attracting red blood cells that contain iron. Nonsense. The iron in hemoglobin is ferrous iron which is not attracted by a magnet.

Let me now leave you with another little ditty I put together with words I learned in Latin class. “Noli credere omnibus quae audis.” For those of you who didn’t take Latin, it means “do not believe everything you hear.”


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