Zissi Skarzhinskaya
If we set aside deeper meanings, such as “clothing for the soul—character traits” or “clothing in the World to Come—mitzvot one has fulfilled,” and consider clothing in the simple, everyday sense of this world, we arrive at the following.
Clothing is meant to protect the body from the effects of its surroundings: weather conditions, insects, and the sun's rays. But clothing can also offer protection from other people. Clothes seem to speak about their wearer; more precisely, people always send a certain message by dressing in a particular way.
For example, someone in a business suit conveys their status, how busy they are, and the seriousness of their intentions. This is how people dress for important meetings, presenting themselves as an equal partner—or even someone a rank above…
Someone in a tracksuit shows greater openness: they are comfortable with themselves and others, ready to “play on a team,” and trying to appear agile and “in good shape.”
When planning a pleasant evening, one puts on an especially beautiful dress, anticipating a certain kind of leisurely pastime. This is not clothing for work—it is not always comfortable, but it is beautiful. One goes out “to see and be seen.” One needs to make an impression.
And so on…
Recently, however, styles have become completely mixed together. More than that, clothing has lost its gender—now it is the same for everyone. Everyone can say something about themselves through their outfit. You can say almost anything, even “I have no shame.”
But let’s get to the point.
When a religious married woman goes out into the street, what does she want her clothes to say? That she is a religious married woman. More precisely: Me. Religious. Married. A woman.
Her clothing includes elements that suit HER alone—this is the “me” component. It is her style, her understanding of beauty and comfort. It is what she believes suits her. It is her self-expression.
Her appearance should also show that she is religious; in other words, it should be clear from looking at her that she is familiar with the requirements of halacha (Jewish law). She may agree with them 30%, 50%, or 100%—and dress accordingly. “Everyone chooses what suits them: Shield and armor. Staff and patches.” To borrow the words of the poet Yuri Levitansky, not every woman chooses to protect herself through her clothing; some prefer patches—covering a little here, a little there…
The next element is being married. It should be clear from looking at her that she is married. And this means more than a little ring on her finger. Everyone around her should be able to see that this woman is married. Not “I’m sort of married” or “if you look very closely.” This is a status. It should be so clear that people address her with appropriate respect in the street.
And finally—a woman. A woman is feminine. She may want to look like a young girl until she is 120—by all means. But she should not wear distinctly masculine clothing. Let’s not get into the debate about men’s and women’s trousers; in our time, there is a ruling that only skirts are permitted. But a raincoat, jacket, hat, and shoes can also have either a feminine or a masculine silhouette. A feminine one is still preferable. A woman who chooses masculine elements prefers comfort to beauty, aggressiveness to gentleness. That is not the Jewish way, forgive me. Through their clothing, men demand respect, which is why their clothing is aggressive. A woman, however, dresses so that this respect is a matter of course; it is respect for her inner essence—«kol kevudah bat melech penimah» («A woman’s dignity is within»). A woman in men’s clothing rejects her feminine side; she wants to become a man’s “friend” or “rival,” confusing his poor head. He knows that his innate programming tells him to protect her, yet her appearance presents her as his opponent—or at any moment she might “lend a hand,” beginning to help with purely male tasks (at best, with advice). Men’s clothing on a woman weakens a man’s essence—what is left for him? He certainly won’t put on a polka-dot skirt…
Men’s clothing became firmly established in women’s wardrobes after the Second World War. Coco Chanel, the trendsetter, began introducing it into our way of thinking (not straight into our wardrobes—not everyone was so bold). During the war, women stepped into many men’s positions. They worked and wore themselves out doing men’s jobs. They realized that they could manage it (they had no choice). After the war, when the men returned, the women were not immediately willing to give them back their places. And so they began competing with them, expressing this through their clothing, among other things.
Even now, we feel stronger if something we wear has a masculine silhouette. But why? We can allow ourselves to relax now, especially religious women. We will lose in a direct confrontation with male strength—no amount of aggressive clothing will help. But men are defenseless against our gentleness, because they are programmed to protect (unless, of course, they have become completely confused in our times).
We can allow ourselves to show a little weakness, since we know how strong we really are.