
The Tudors didn’t exactly have a reputation for cleanliness—at least, not by modern standards. We often imagine grimy streets, people avoiding baths, and bad smells hanging in the air. And while it’s true that they didn’t have hot running water or a modern understanding of germs, not everything about Tudor hygiene was a disaster. In fact, some of their practices were surprisingly sensible, even if they were born out of tradition or superstition. Here’s a closer look at the hygiene habits from Tudor times that actually made a lot of sense.
Handwashing before meals was standard.
Even without knowing about bacteria, Tudors were fairly diligent about washing their hands, especially before eating. This wasn’t just about keeping clean; it was also a social and religious ritual. In wealthier households, a servant would bring around a basin and ewer so that everyone at the table could rinse their hands before the meal.
This routine reduced the transfer of grime and germs, particularly important given that most people ate with their fingers or shared communal dishes. Compared to many other historical periods, Tudor hand hygiene was actually pretty solid.
They regularly changed their linen.
Bathing may have been infrequent, but clean clothes, particularly undergarments, were a priority. Linen shirts and chemises were worn against the skin to absorb sweat and oils. These were changed and washed far more often than outer garments.
People believed that wearing clean linen helped keep the body clean, and in a way, they were right. Linen is breathable and naturally antimicrobial, and changing it regularly did help prevent body odour and skin conditions. It was a practical workaround in a time when full-body bathing wasn’t easy or common.
Public bathhouses were popular—until they weren’t.
Up until the 16th century, public bathhouses (known as “stews”) were fairly common in cities like London. People of different classes used them for relaxation and washing. These bathhouses provided warm water and sometimes even steam rooms, offering a rare opportunity for full-body washing.
The decline in their use came with the rise of syphilis and concern over immoral behaviour, as many stews also doubled as brothels. But their original purpose—communal bathing—was genuinely beneficial. Before being shut down, they provided a level of cleanliness that wasn’t easily achieved at home.
Herbs and flowers were used to keep things fresh.
Tudors were big believers in the power of pleasant smells. They didn’t understand infection the way we do, but they knew foul air was associated with illness. As a result, people stuffed herbs like rosemary, lavender, and thyme into pockets, carried nosegays, or scattered them on floors to ward off disease and odours.
Many of these herbs had natural antiseptic properties. While the connection between scent and sickness was misunderstood, the practice of using aromatic plants did contribute to better indoor air quality and personal hygiene.
They were cautious about water sources.
Drinking water was a concern in Tudor times, as many sources were polluted. People were understandably wary of stagnant water or wells near cesspits. As a result, many preferred to drink ale, which was boiled during brewing and therefore safer.
While it’s easy to judge the choice of ale over water, this avoidance of contaminated water sources likely spared them from outbreaks of waterborne diseases like cholera and dysentery, even if they didn’t know exactly why.
Dental hygiene mattered—sort of.
The Tudors didn’t have toothbrushes, but they did try to keep their teeth clean. Wealthier people rubbed their teeth with cloths and used tooth powders made from crushed herbs, salt, charcoal, or even ground oyster shells. Mint, sage, and vinegar were popular choices for freshening the mouth.
Queen Elizabeth I was known to use cloths and pastes to clean her teeth, although by the end of her life, she reportedly suffered from significant dental issues. Still, the average person made a reasonable effort to maintain oral hygiene, especially by the standards of the day.
They used cloths to wash themselves.
Rather than immerse themselves in water, many Tudors opted for sponge baths using a bowl of warm water and a cloth. This approach—sometimes called a “dry wash”—was more practical than a full bath, especially in winter or for those without access to a private tub.
They would focus on cleaning their face, hands, feet, and private areas. It wasn’t a luxury scrub-down, but it helped control odour and was better than nothing. Plus, it avoided the risk of illness that many associated with cold bathing.
Clean hair was part of the routine.
Haircare was surprisingly important. While full shampooing wasn’t an option, Tudors often combed their hair daily to remove dirt, dandruff, and lice. Combs were made of wood or bone, and lice combs were a common item in households.
Some people used herbal rinses to keep hair fresh—lavender, rosemary, and nettles were all popular. Oils and pomades helped manage hair texture, and head coverings protected styles and kept dirt at bay. Clean hair was seen as a sign of respectability.
They prioritised clean living spaces.
Though Tudor homes didn’t have vacuum cleaners or disinfectants, people made efforts to keep their living spaces tidy. Floors were often swept, and rushes scattered with herbs were used to mask smells and absorb spills. In wealthier homes, these rushes were replaced regularly.
Windows were opened to allow air to circulate, and while understanding of bacteria was lacking, there was a recognition that fresh air was good for health. Keeping the home orderly was part of good housekeeping, and a reflection of one’s social standing.
Tudor hygiene habits may seem strange (or downright unpleasant) by today’s standards, but many of their practices were rooted in observation, tradition, and a fair amount of common sense. Without a modern understanding of germs or disease transmission, they still managed to get a few key things right. From regular handwashing to using herbs as natural deodorisers, the Tudors weren’t as clueless about cleanliness as they’re often made out to be.