Frum N' Flipping

"I wear a hat at night." She says it matter-of-factly. "You wear a hat to bed?" I try not to sound shocked. She's not Chasidic, she's not even Chareidi. It seems rather extreme to me. "Yes, I decided to keep my hair covered at all times." That's the point when naughty questions pop into my head, like when exactly does she show her hair, but I bite them back, being the nice frum girl/woman I am. "Oh." I say instead. "I don't cover my hair at home." "Unless we have guests of course." I add. I've got my reputation to mantain. "Of course" She says. "I mean it's a good thing, covering your hair all the time, I guess… There's that story with the woman who merited torah scholar sons because the walls of her house never saw her hair…" It's a Bais Yaacov classic. I always hated it, but that part I leave out. The conversation leaves me thinking. I don't cover my h...

My Guide to Tznius shopping is more for those "I desperately need a new outfit for wedding/date/trip and don't care how much it costs" occasions. Or in other words, a lot of the places mentioned are pretty expensive. But how can a girl look stylish without breaking the bank? Nothing compares with the satisfaction of finding a bargain. A female returning home with bags filled with clothes bought at half price is the modern equivalent of a triumphant Amazon huntress. So where are the best deals? Bargain Stores Heavenly - (I think that's what it's called, I'll check next time I'm there) have a big selection of pretty skirts. All you need is the patience to carefully go through the racks. I've spotted some really good French labels there, which I remember from my last trip to Paris (doesn't that sound posh?) and even some Old Navy's. (Prices:50-100 NIS for a skirt. Location: In the Tachana Mercazit, enter and turn right, carry on till ...

Warning: Men should stop reading this right about now. So you're in Jerusalem, the holy city. And you want to be holy, and dress modestly. But you don't want to look holy . You want to look good . Never fear. I'm a secret Shopaholic. And arriving home loaded with shopping bags tonight, I suddenly felt like sharing my accrued wisdom with the world. This is going to be an exceedingly shallow post. 100% Chitzoniyus and Gashmiyut. My only defence is that a girl in Shidduchim has got to be well dressed! Frum stores I'm not so into shopping at Frum stores. Something about the idea of being dressed exactly the same as every girl in Bnai Brak and Sanhedria Murchevet gives me the shivers. But if you're aiming for a Frum-yet-classy look for a Simcha, where you want Tante Baila to approve of you and suggest a fine Bochur for a Shidduch, then check out One-of-a-Kind (Location: Go down Rechov Haturim, which is off Malchei Yisroel, and then turn either left or right, I...

Or more to the point, is my blog Tznius? Got some not-so-positive feedback recently. Here's my response. Being a Bais Yaacov girl means many things. Most of them are good. I made a conscious decision to study in the places I did, to belong to the society I do. I don't regret it. But along with the schooling came a pattern. The pattern of Chareidi society at large, perhaps. What not to say, where not to go. When I was in high school it was non Jewish music, movies, boys. These subjects were taboo. Good girls didn't even think of them, at least not aloud. Even now, in the discussions of "kids going off the derech" flourishing in the Frum press, so many theories are produced, for what drives teenage boys and girls to hang out together. What they never mention is hormones. Awakening needs, wants, temptations. Teenage boys want to be with girls, teenage girls want to be with boys. Sometimes it's as simple as that. Some kids do it. Do the forbidden, the banned. ...

Take 1. I feel his breath on my neck. I shift position, so that his thigh isn't pressed against mine. His arm is raised, grasping the rubber grip handing from the ceiling. As the bus circles the hillside, we tilt slightly, I grip the floor with my feet, close to falling into the circle of his arms. At least the guy behind me is cute. An old and entirely unappealing man stands in front of me. Bulging out in every direction. Wearing an old pair of pants that keeps slipping down. We are close enough for me to count the bristles on his chin. As the bus comes to a sudden halt, he falls back into me. Cut. Take 2. "So tell me, don't datiyot have boy friends?" "No." "Chamuda, you're not looking for a boy friend?" "No. " "We could have a lot of fun together you know." "That's the address. Thanks." I give him the fare and get out, slamming the cab door behind me. And the list can go on and on. Did you know that it's...