Autumn was basically made for frum girls anyways, just chilly enough that your tznius wardrobe is weather-appropriate. Not to mention traditional fall fashion! From beanies to turtlenecks to cozy knit sweaters to leggings under skirts, are any other season’s fashion trends so on-brand with the Frum Girl Look?

Read on for some tips and tricks for how to celebrate Frum Girl Fall the right way.

• Need some fashion inspo? Check out out this Frum Girl Fall Pinterest board, for some tznius fall looks.
• The best part of autumn is the seasonal drinks, from pumpkin spice to apple cinnamon. This year, Dunkin’s fall menu includes pumpkin cream cold brews, apple cranberry refreshers, and an apple cider donut. Here’s a masterlist of all the Kosher Dunkin’ Donuts locations in the United States. (DISCLAIMER: Sorry to all my Chabaddies—these aren’t chalav yisrael.)
• Fall is soup season! Make it Jewish and enjoy some hot chicken soup or matzah ball soup.
• Thanksgiving isn’t especially Jewish, but gratitude sure is! Take a moment to be thankful for all you have.
• Go apple picking with some friends. (Don’t forget to make a bracha!)
• Cuffing season is right around the corner! Meet with a shadchan and cuff yourself a shidduch date soon.

Happy fall!

The post It’s Frum Girl Fall! appeared first on Jewcy.

“I feel like we’re at a moment where this might be our mainstream hit,” said Kevin Abner, the founder and one-man show behind Hamsa Club. “It’s going to take us from an underground speakeasy ‘if you know, you know’ brand and into the mainstream.” 

“It’s like our Drake ‘Take Care’ moment,” Abner continued, referencing the Jewish rapper’s sophomore album. 

Inspired by the growing popularity of streetwear and logo flips — parodying a famous logo or character — the new Hamsa Club collection takes tongue-in-cheek references to pop culture and makes them Jewish and cool, which is no easy feat. 

A central theme of Season Five is childhood nostalgia from the Gen Z/Millineal cusp — what Abner calls ‘micro Millenials.’ And, in following the success of season four’s “All Good Jewish Girls go to Heaven” design featuring the Powerpuff Girls, Abner wanted to produce more products catering towards women.

For example, season five will feature a Hello Kitty flip (“Shalom Kitty”), a Princess Jasmine flip, a Bratz flip (“Japz”), and a Betty Boop flip. 

But Abner doesn’t select brands or characters arbitrarily. 

“Betty Boop is actually Jewish,” Abner said. “And I did the Bratz-Japz flip because the owner of Bratz, Isaac Larian [CEO of MGA Entertainment], is a Persian Jew, and I’m a Persian Jew.” 

Abner honors his Persian-Jewish identity and other Jewish ethnic minorities in Season Five. 

The Japz flip features three characters: a stereotypical American Jewish princess, a Persian-Moroccan Jewish girl, and an Israeli, Tel Aviv beach girl. 

“I wanted to bridge the gap between identities and put a spotlight on this community of people,” Abner said.

Abner wanted to produce designs that celebrate his community — a first in the Jewish pop culture/merchandise sphere — and Jewish identity, as well as non-Jewish friends and allies. 

“[The designs are] digestible enough where your honorary Jewish friend who isn’t Jewish but comes over for Shabbat gets it,” Abner said. “We have customers that aren’t even Jewish and love our stuff, like our hats on Depop.”

Abner also acknowledges that it’s sometimes hard to design for Jewish identity because of politics. For example, one design features four Jewish comedians — Larry David, Adam Sandler, Jon Stewart, and Jerry Seinfield — and references a famous Death Row Vibe magazine cover from 1986.  

Abner wanted to include Seth Rogen, but when he polled his followers on Instagram, most said no because of Rogen’s stance on Israel. “People would message me and be, like, ‘oh, no to Seth Rogen because he’s a fake Jew.’ Everyone has their own opinion, but I chose Jon Stewart because, you know, I’m trying to make everyone laugh here.” 

Season Five launches Friday, October 8 at 12 p.m. PST. Buyers should act fast — Abner anticipates designs like Drake, Japz, and the Death Row Comedians going fast. 

But be on the lookout in the future — when I asked if there would ever be a Hamsa Club x Jewcy collab, Abner responded with a resounding, “Absolutely.”

The post Hamsa Club’s Fifth Collection is Jewish Pop Culture Heaven appeared first on Jewcy.

Fortunately my eyesight is pretty good, so I managed to do just that, and can report that Mimu Maxi’s style is original, simple, chic—sort of Urban Outfitters meets Eileen Fisher, with a touch of… Gandhi? I know, it sounds bananas, but it’s great! I would like one of everything, plus the ability to look effortlessly cool in loose, unstructured garments. Thanking you in advance, universe.

The post An Inside Look at Chic, Modest Jewish Fashion Label “Mimu Maxi” appeared first on Jewcy.

Speaking at an event at 92Y in New York City on Sunday night, Ruth Bader Ginsburg made a supreme confession: she has “quite a large supply” of those ‘Notorious R.B.G.’ tees (for which we can thank the eponymous Tumblr page), which she gives out as party favors to departing brunch guests.

[Wait—real talk—she said she gives them out as gifts. She said nothing about brunch. But I imagine that these garments are stored in her house, and that occasionally people come over for brunch, and that as they’re walking out the door she comes rushing down the porch steps with a bag of bagel and lox leftovers in one hand and a Notorious R.B.G. tee in the other, saying something like, “Elissa, dear, I almost forgot to give you your brunch party favor! See you next week at Middlemarch book club!”]

Here’s what transpired during R.B.G.’s chat with NPR’s Nina Totenberg. Come for the kvelling about the grandchildren, stay for the bit at the end where she nods like the boss that she is.

Totenberg: On a somewhat lighter note, I want to ask you about the Notorious RBG t-shirt. [Applause, Cheers]. I gather there are some people here who’ve worn them. I wear mine on the weekends all the time. And people will occasionally—The guy at the drug store said to me last weekend, he said, who is that woman, she looks very familiar, but who is she? I said she’s a supreme court justice. He said, oh good, I’ve learned something today. So how did you find out about the notorious RBG t-shirts.

Ginsburg: I think a law clerk told me about this tumblr and also explained to me what Notorious RBG was a parody on. And now my grandchildren love it and I try to keep abreast of the latest that’s on the tumblr. I have—and in fact I think I gave you a Notorious RBG—

Totenberg: Two of my three. I bought one.

Ginsburg: I have quite a large supply.

Totenberg: Do you have the one—what’s the one ‘you can’t have truth without Ruth’”

Ginsburg: Without Ruth. [nods]
[h/t Time]

(Image: Portrait by Simmie Knox, under commission of the United States Supreme Court)

Related: Justices Elena Kagan and Ruth Bader Ginsburg Share Personal Trainer, Mutual Admiration

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I own hardly any white clothes, a fact that took me by surprise, once again, last Kol Nidre.

This is equal parts vanity and common sense: white is a color that highlights your shape; it emphasizes largeness and form. And in New York City, where I live, every surface is dusted with low-grade filth.

I owned one pair of white jeans that rode too low and never came out clean, no matter how I washed them. I had one sheer jersey dress, an ill-fitting gift that I couldn’t face throwing away. So come Yom Kippur morning last year I trotted them out, cobbling together an outfit. My giant tallit covered the rest. I looked ridiculous, but that was the price I had to pay for my failure to plan, I told myself. Next year, I promised, I’d get my act together in advance. I made a lot of promises that week.

Draping oneself in humble whites on Yom Kippur has been a traditional Jewish custom for millennia. It’s also the custom of the exuberant, neo-traditional-hippie Jewish community that I gravitated towards in adulthood. While I do not own a kittel (the white burial robe that men traditionally wear on their wedding day and Yom Kippur), I like the gravity of donning a garment with the weight of death; the effacement of self-expression when approaching divine judgment. But the notion of purity—so central to the Yom Kippur prayer service—that’s harder for me to swallow.

Last month, I listened to one of my favorite rabbis singing selichot, the penitential prayers offered before the high holy days. With his studied persuasiveness, in a gravely voice that gets me every time, he offered his annual plea: Do something to prepare yourself for the Days of Awe. Don’t let the holidays creep up on you. Do the spiritual work.

I do not believe that the work he envisioned was online dress shopping, but that is exactly what I did as soon as I got home—until 1AM. I was dismayed to find scores of white dresses at full price after Labor Day. (Are no sartorial traditions sacred anymore?) I recalled my ambivalence while white dress shopping for my wedding, the appalling 600 percent markup on anything a bride might consider wearing. Same symbolism: death, rebirth, purity, humility. They are very expensive symbols.

And there were so many ways to sort and filter the results! White, of course. Not short, maybe long or mid-length? The thought floated through my mind that this was perhaps not the type of work that would best serve my most sincere repentance. But imagining myself embodied on Yom Kippur was weirdly helpful. What would it be like to slip this dress over my head or zipper it up? How would the fabric feel on my skin? I rejected outfits if I didn’t think I could move freely in them, or ones that looked itchy. With this time investment, at least I’d get to skip the nagging guilt of failing to prepare.

Except that I found nothing. I filtered until there was nothing left. Everything was too short, or too cleavage-enhancing, or made of some unearthly polyester. These dresses were not designed for a solemn occasion, for beating one’s chest or praying through tears.

I thought about the time a few years back when I tried to do the Great Aleinu—the full prostration—in high heels and a very reasonable skirt. I remembered being totally distracted by my clothes, and how I had obviously not done the work—the unglamorous, practical work—of making sure that I could pray the way I wanted to. My body’s shelter, inside my community’s shelter, was totally ill-suited for the task.

One Yom Kippur when I had just moved west, I attended a Jewish Renewal service in Oakland. One congregant in particular caught my eye. She was standing up, swaying, arms pointing heavenward, and full-throat singing literally the whole time. I don’t know what she was on, but I wanted some. Her flowing caftan housed her corpulence, and I realized that she was free to really be in her body. It was hers—and God’s—to see. I wondered if that was what it was like to be invisible and also really, truly seen and present.

With no acceptable white dresses online, I went to H&M, and was immediately overstimulated by the ritual thud of dance music. But in the clothing-to-junk cycle of seasonal fashion, there were no more white dresses. I had not prepared early enough. Thumbing through racks, I thought about how nobody seemed interested in selling women clothing for solemn occasions; clothing for simply being present in our bodies—as opposed to being gazed upon by judges, male and female. It seemed so obvious. Obviously nobody wants to sell me that.

When I was a kid, we looked really nice on the High Holidays. This was my mother’s rule, and her mother’s. No runs in stockings. Nothing scuffed or stained or ill-fitting from last year. The clothes weren’t white, but they were pristine and considered in advance. It wasn’t spiritual per se, but it was a big deal and the community custom.

I remember visiting that congregation during college. A teenager was wearing a barely-there fuchsia and black party dress with spaghetti straps. She looked miserable. I preferred to imagine that the misery preceded the dress, a spirited teenage protest. She wasn’t allowed to skip services, but she could wear that dress. Or perhaps she felt miserable because she realized she’d committed an etiquette misstep.

I was not offended by her dress or her body, but I wondered how she felt, if she was conscious of others’ eyes on her, or perhaps blissfully unaware. I wondered if her dress helped her get what she wanted out of that service or that day, if it helped her do her work.

I was never much moved by the soul of that suburban temple. But I did notice that we’d all shown up, even those of us who probably would not return for another year. The room contained a kernel of somber optimism, a desire to hold for a moment the belief that with the work, one can find in oneself a fresh heart. That our days can be renewed. God knows, we can’t do it alone.

Back on the internet, I lowered my standards. I found myself considering my shopping filters and realized that they described some odd form of modesty, a concept I hold with profound suspicion. I think of modesty as a construct, a matrix of community norms—people looking at other people, and women worrying about what other people think we look like. There is so little I can do about this. I can maybe control my own feelings, and I can learn better not to project a bunch of baloney onto other people. But my tools to resist unreasonable standards—the same standards that demand me to wear clothes I can’t do my work in—are limited, because I’m a person. I wanted a modest uniform for this day of extreme humility, not to serve someone else’s needs, but to do my work. It’s not exactly that I wanted to be invisible. Rather, I wanted an outfit in which I felt safe revealing the innermost core of myself, beating my chest, shedding my tears, whatever that looks like.

I filtered the results again, optimistically. Mid-length, sure. White or off-white. Natural fibers or natural-looking. The results that popped up were mostly sheer, with peek-holes, or sundresses that would give me a chill. There was nothing left.

The part of me that wanted to look polished, like my mother would strongly recommend, that part of me was not on good terms with the part of me that would like to not be seen, to just buy the damn kittel already. But I couldn’t look good and be unseen at the same time. Wearing the men’s uniform wouldn’t solve this dilemma. It wouldn’t undo the tensions between seeing and being seen, by community, by God, by myself.

So I just bought a dress and accepted its imperfections. It’s not designed to solve my problems. No dresses are. It’s too big. It’s 80/20 cotton/polyester. It was on sale, but not by much. But it has pockets and falls to a comfortable length above my knee. It’s like a boxy house, though it looked more like a stylish and modern house on the model than it does on me. The fabric is thick and spongy, and I’ve been added to the store’s email list, from which there is apparently no unsubscribe. I’m more terrified than ever about my limited capacity to do this work—the real work under the clothes—but this feels like a durable shelter, a start.

(Image by Vanessa P., via Flickr)

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Curly-haired Jews, your fashion exile ends today. The New York Times has declared natural, wild tresses to be the next big thing—which means you can finally throw out your flat iron, cancel your keratin treatment, and ditch that physical therapist you were seeing for straightening-related RSI:

Highly visible musicians like Lorde, St. Vincent and Rita Ora have made curly manes part of their look. Art-world darlings like the young photographers Olivia Bee and Petra Collins are also skipping the blowout. The look is styled but a little messy, even embracing a certain amount of… yes, frizz. And with a new interest in curly hair has come a demand for salons accomplished in dealing with it.

Of course, this isn’t news to Jews and other minority follicular groups. There are websites, stores, books, and documentaries dedicated to the “problem” of curly hair—but some of us have been celebrating it for years. Who can forget Amy Irving’s luscious mop of curls in Crossing Delancey? Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City—or, for that matter, in Girls Just Want to Have Fun?

In 2012, Talia Lavin wrote a great piece for Jewcy about learning to embrace her frizzy mane (which seems to attract a lot of undue attention on public transit):

Wherever I go, my hair gives me away, ungovernable as my stiff-necked people, and as treacherous as our enemies say we are—a fifth column of frizz.

In the past I’ve resorted to creative dyeing. On my gap year, I chopped it short and spiked it with electric purple, and since then, I’ve hidden it under an ever-shifting spectrum of reds, golds, and, once, an unfortunate sallow orange. But even so, it spills resolutely down my forehead—if not a Mark of Cain, then at least a Mark of Cohen. In rural Iceland, I was informed repeatedly that my hair would make “really great dreads.” (Anyone who looked at the rest of my face or body could tell you that this is a “really terrible idea.”)

And earlier this year, Jewcy contributor Samantha Shokin penned a moving piece for Tablet about how a trip to Israel instilled her with a sense of pride in her heritage—and her hair:

What we here endearingly refer to as the “Jewfro” is, in Israel, described as leefa—bushy, unruly hair. Tumbleweed hair. Curls that defy styling products. Unabashed frizz.

I considered my bundle of Jewish locks. Messy tendrils framed my face, tinged gold by the blazing sun. My own leefa, once a source of so much shame and frustration, was here not only common but a cause for celebration. These were my tribemates.

All this curly-hair pride is making me feel a little bereft, like I’m missing out on some great, unifying tribal characteristic. I’m the product of a mixed-marriage—straight-haired father, curly-haired mother—and my own locks fall somewhere on the spectrum between “dead straight” and “moderately wavy,” depending on length and humidity. My sister, however, has glorious Shirley Temple-esque ringlets; bouncy and abundant and downright charming. For years we’ve both argued that the other sister won the genetic lottery. Today, finally, we can declare her the winner: curly hair is in, and #TheTimesIsOnIt.

(Image: Shutterstock)

The post The New York Times: Don’t Stress, Curly Hair is Cool appeared first on Jewcy.

Back in June, it appeared that American Apparel founder Dov Charney had finally—finally!—met his downfall. The t-shirt king, who is notorious for his sleazy behavior and sexually explicit advertising, basically screwed himself with a combination of bad business and continued sexual harassment of his employees. On June 18, the board of directors issued a statement announcing the removal of Charney as CEO, explaining that the decision “grew out of an ongoing investigation into alleged misconduct.”

Charney immediately mounted a defense, rallying his legal team and striking a deal with New York hedge fund Standard General. Now, he’s officially back in the business. The Los Angeles Times reported Wednesday that Standard General, which owns a 44 per cent stake in the company, “will bring in a cash infusion of up to $25 million,” thus saving American Apparel from “potential financial ruin.”

Charney and four other board members will step down, but Charney will continue to work as a “strategic consultant” while being investigated for sexual misconduct. According to the LA Times, “a committee of board members will determine whether he can serve as ‘CEO or an officer or employee of American Apparel'” once the investigation is complete.

The good news? “Standard General is upholding American Apparel’s commitment to making its products in America. The investment firm will not support shifting even a percentage of U.S. manufacturing to low-cost countries overseas, according to a person familiar with the negotiations.”

Sounds like the employees jobs are secure for now. But are they safe from Charney’s skeezy wandering hands? Time will tell.

The post Like a Sleazy Phoenix, American Apparel’s Dov Charney Rises From the Ashes appeared first on Jewcy.

Zeke Winitsky, a 13-year-old boy from North Jersey, has penned a heartfelt plea in Esquire for better bar mitzvah suits. He went to the mall with his Mom looking for something sharp for the occasion, but struggled to find anything age and style-appropriate:

On the first day, God created the navy blue blazer with brass buttons and khakis. And I looked and saw that it was not good.

On the second day, He made the ill-fitting all-black suit. And I looked and saw that it was kinda bland.

On the third day he created the boxy grey suit — and things were starting to get bleak.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “But wait! The bar mitzvah is about so much more than a suit! Let me pen an outraged comment about the hopelessness of ‘kids today’ right here!” To that I say: hold your fire. This kid is smart. He knows what’s up. He knows that a “navy blue blazer with brass buttons and khakis” sucks. I’m pretty sure he knows his parsha too, but this isn’t about that. This is about looking good, which is no trivial thing when you’re on the cusp of puberty/Jewish manhood—the most awkward phase ever—and about to read Torah and speechify in front of all your friends and family. Zeke, I applaud your sartorial maturity! (My search for a bat mitzvah dress was similarly fraught.)

I had always wanted a Brooks Brothers suit, so we went there first. I tried on the two suits I liked. But what I found is that I looked like a banker… from 1986. I don’t know why bar mitzvah suits must be so tacky — is it one of the 613 commandments in the Old Testament? Here’s the thing: I’m not a banker. I’m cool! I play the guitar! I have friends! Brooks Brothers had betrayed me. My mom and I agreed that this was not the right place for me.

Read the rest here.

Also: My Big Fat Hassidic Bar Mitzvah

The post Bar Mitzvah Boy Pens Plea For Better Suits appeared first on Jewcy.

I sat down for a latte with Rachel Antonoff at Café Grumpy in Chelsea on a Wednesday afternoon. Antonoff has been busy preparing for her Spring 2014 fashion line and video, traveling back and forth to Los Angeles, and generally being a busy, young fashion designer.

Antonoff grew up in central New Jersey, and attended the Professional Children’s School in New York City. After realizing at a young age that theater wasn’t her calling, she went on to pursue writing, and soon after that she began to dabble in fashion. She sent some photos of her and a friend’s designs, wide-eyed and naive, to Teen Vogue, and the rest is history.

She greeted me with a hug. We had both just attended weddings with no plus-one invite, so the conversation began from there. We went on to discuss siblings (her brother is Jack Antonoff of Fun, who happens to date Girls’ Lena Dunham), neighborhoods, and her likes and dislikes.

Her Spring 2014 lookbook will premiere on Style.com’s Video Fashion Week, next week, and her video for the line will be available on her website.

Were you always into fashion? What led you to become a designer?

Not at all. I actually always and still do have a list of things I want to do and be. And weirdly enough this was not even on that list. I fell into it really late, sort of, in terms of when people find their careers. I really wanted to be a writer, actually. I was freelance writing around the city, and of course, I always loved clothes. Now I know that I was always designing, I just didn’t realize that’s what I was doing.

I design best when I’m jogging, usually, when I just daydream. And what I’m wearing in the daydreams is what I try to extract and make. And now I know that that’s my process.

What’s your favorite article of clothing?

I am drawn to dresses because they’re easy, and I’m actually not a great stylist, which is interesting. I really don’t have a solid idea of what to put with what. I don’t ever feel like one of those people who looks put together, so a dress is an easy way to accomplish that. But really, especially now that I work in this field, I mostly want to be really comfortable all the time. I don’t do well with middle ground. I either go all the way with something or not at all. So I’d rather not try at all and wear sweats, which is why our sweatshirts came out and it’s working out well.

They are super cute. What’s the vision behind your Spring 2014 collection?

Thank you. Spring 2014 is themed “crush” and we are editing the video right now which will premiere on Style.com’s video fashion week, next week. I’m really excited about it, and my video as well. It’s all sort of inspired by the feeling of having a crush and how you think about what you want to wear for your crush.

There’s a song “He’s a Rebel,” by The Crystals. Maybe it’d be a good fit for your video.

Sounds amazing. I’m going to write it down. We’re actually scoring this right now so maybe it will work out.

Your collections are inspired by a variety of eras, most notably the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s. If you could go back in time, which era would you live in and why?

Style-wise or life-wise?

Both.

Well life-wise, to be honest, as a woman, I think you’d have to be insane to live in any other era than this one. Or if I could choose the future, then hopefully that. I certainly wouldn’t want to go back in time when it comes to general civil rights and stuff like that.

But style-wise, I may have to continue with this time, only because it seems like in so many past eras, while the style for women was really fun to look at, it may not have been as fun to wear. I feel like it’s a common answer to say women just looked better, and you were expected to dress up. That’s exactly why I wouldn’t want to live there. I’d like to look at pictures of it, but I don’t think I’d want that responsibility everyday of having to.

You and Jack are a power sibling team. Is he your number one go-to for advice?

Always, yes. We’ve always talked about everything and advised each other on everything for as long as I can remember. So there’s extremely few things I can imagine in like that I would not seek out his advice on. If there is advice to be sought, his would be the first. He’s great.

What made you switch from runway shows to video?

The shows were getting really expensive and over the top, and again with not wanting to have to half weigh things, I would rather not do one, then to compromise. I guess that’s not my best attribute, but I know that what we were spending was a fraction of what most people spend on presentations, and it was still through the roof. We had to realistically look and ask, are we increasing sales by having these? What really is the value? How else could we accomplish this? And Lena [Dunham] had the great idea for the video, and I loved the idea. And so at first I thought maybe I should do that and a show, but we should definitely do that. But then the more I thought about it, I figured we should take our funds and use them in one place and really make it great. I felt really disappointed at first, sort of like it was admission to failure. But then as we filmed the video and then when I saw it I realized it was actually, a video is a presentation that lasts forever.

I love that you use your mom, grandmother, and friends in your videos and presentation as models, displaying all shapes and sizes. It brings a realism to fashion that most people designers don’t. I wonder if you did runway still, if that would be different.

Thank you. Right, I don’t know, I mean I have a lot of issues with that. I feel like fashion is the same as any other creative art and for some reason its one of the only of the creative arts that’s viewed in this totally eye roll inducing fluffy, stupid way. I think a lot of it is unwarranted, but then there’s so much that goes on within fashion—for the most part we’re not doing ourselves any favors, to dispel this “Zoolander-ish” persona. And obviously it’s an age-old thing with the weight and size issue, but it is such a problem; it’s so gross, and I just don’t want to play any part in it.

Describe Rachel Antonoff’s “girl”?

I think she has been every girl, which kind of ties in to what we just talked about. I really like the idea that there are things my mom could wear, my grandmother could wear, and more specifically, I think the Rachel Antonoff girl definitely doesn’t take fashion too seriously. It’s not an elitist thing, its just fun, and about feeling good about yourself, as well as dressing for yourself.

What music are you into?

So much! I’ve always loved Broadway musicals and still listen to a lot of that. You know who I just discovered? Sky Ferreira. Have you heard any of her music?

Ummm…heard of her, but not really.

I know! I hadn’t either, because, exactly. That was my thought on the way to this wedding last weekend. It wouldn’t have even occurred to me to listen to her songs, and then for some reason it did. I listened to two of her songs, an old single and a new, and I don’t understand why she’s not hailed as a genius artist of our time!

What’s your favorite Broadway show?

Pippin. What’s yours?

Gypsy.

That’s probably my second favorite.

Favorite designers?

Miu Miu, Mary Benson, Melissa Coker for Wren, Band of Outsiders and Chanel.

Are you spiritual, and what’s your relationship with Judaism?

I am spiritual, I have to say, though, I’m not very religiously inclined, specifically. I guess I have to affiliate myself somewhere between agnostic and a humanist. I think whats here on the planet is magical enough and amazing. I don’t know what I believe regarding other things, but I feel so open to it. I do love the culture of Judaism. We observed holidays and went to Solomon Schechter. My mom grew up “Conservadox” and my dad grew up Reform, and we were somewhere in between.

Previous:
Spotlight On: Grouplove Drummer and Producer Ryan Rabin
Spotlight On: Jayson Littman, Finance Guy Turned He’bro Founder
And many more…

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If you’ve ever watched The Voice, you’ve definitely noticed that Christina Aguilera loves her some old-fashioned hand fans, a seductive way to keep cool on stage. As it turns out, the singer’s fans are custom-made by Israeli designer Sharon Jerusalmy, who was looking through her orders on Etsy- where she sells her fans- and saw that Aguilera’s stylist had made a purchase.

Jerusalmy began making “Fancy Hand Fans” three years ago in Tel Aviv, reports Rivka Borochov on the Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs website.

It was during a hot summer a few years ago when Jerusalmy was sitting at a coffee shop with her daughter that the fan idea came to life. At 49, she had quit her job six months before. It was hot that day, and the women were using their menus as improvised fans. Jerusalmy suddenly realized that this could be a great item to bring back in style. And, she notes, hand fans are an ecological way of cooling off in the summer months.

Too bad Jerusalmy didn’t have a hand fan for Aguilera during this video shoot—she could’ve used one:

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