Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Papa can you wig me?

Bosom friends!

Today I have a little anecdote from my wig shopping experience. Yesterday, since I was already in south Beach (I had to house sit for my friend Holy Trinity, the girl who has the looks, the brains and the right disposition) I decided to go and check out Yaffa Wigs on 540 Arthur Godfrey Rd. I saw their Face Book page and I was very curious to see what they could have had in store for me.
Well...First of all upon parking my car I quickly realized that I had landed in the land of the chosen people. Israel itself probably would feel less Jewish. Nothing wrong with being true to our heritage. I actually love a good old Jewish neighborhood since they have the best food and top of the line of everything.
I got inside Yaffa and I was greeted by a whole bunch of wig equipped ladies. Yes, I had made an entrance where no other drag queen had set foot before: the Orthodox Jewish wig parlor.


Luckily I was carrying one of my Luis Vuitton bags so at least I had something on me they were all familiar with. By the way Cher has got nothing on those ladies wig wise...


The owner looked at me while she was installing some fresh locks on a client and said "we only carry 100% human hair wigs". She had the thickest New Yorker accent I have ever heard and basically she was telling me that I couldn't afford any of those amazing wigs. She was quite right. The cheapest piece (a short bob) cost $2,200. Oy vey!

Jewish tradition encourages modesty; not in order to detract from our beauty, but rather to channel our beauty and attractiveness so it be saved for where it belongs -- within marriage. So those married ladies wear a wig to save their beauty for the privacy of their homes and husbands.
Definitely not my intent.
I mumbled a "shalom" on my way out and let them carry on with their Orthodox way of life.

How do I get myself in such situations???
What a putz

At that point I was curios about what else I could have found in such a gem of a neighborhood.
I went inside the clothing store right next door to the wig shop. Oh boy, was I in for a pleasant shocker.
I was greeted again by a single lady (I figured that by the lack of 100% human hair wig) and I quickly used the oldest white lie "I am only browsing for a friend of mine". The garments in the shop were all of amazing quality and whomever designed them mastered the art of putting together fabulouness with modesty. I felt I was in a parallel fashion universe. Sequins galore, see through fabrics, even a skin tight golden pencil skirt. Yet everything was covering and sensible.
The helpful lady even brought to me a couple of pieces and added "these are imported straight from Israel" as if that was indeed an added quality to the actual garment. Chosen clothes for chosen people from the chosen land. She took me to the ultimate level of Jewish fashion. I felt I was almost part of their community too. I did not have the guts to ask to try on the golden skirt number, I was afraid she would have gotten into some sort of mystical seizure. 

I just want to make clear that I love the Jewish sense of community and their will to preserve traditions and rituals. You know me, my writing is just colorful.

While on the search for the perfect wig I stumbled upon the perfect wig shopping story.
By the way all I could hear in my head while walking in that neighborhood was Barbra Streisand's "A Piece of Sky" from the movie Yentil. 
I may need some psychological help.

Shalom for now. 

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