Me and My Covered Hair, Part One: the Sheitel

Sheitel or tichel?  Snood or pre-tied?  Band fall or hat fall?  If these choices don’t mean anything to you, you’re in good company.  They didn’t mean anything to me before I delved into the world of Orthodoxy.

Part of choosing to be Orthodox was agreeing to cover my hair after I got married.  I’m not going to go into detail about the “why” of this mitzvah.  If you’re curious about it, I’m including some linkies:

  1. Rebbetzin Feige Twerski’s perspective
  2. The Lubavitcher Rebbe’s perspective
  3. An interesting personal account
  4. Another interesting personal account
  5. My friend Ruchi’s take

and a video:

Today I’m going to talk about my experience with my sheitels.

A sheitel, a wig, a faaaaaabulous wig.  The subject of much discussion in Yeshivish circles.  How to wear it, how often to get it done, how long it should last.  Because  of sheitels, I’ve seen grown women duck and cover speedily at the first droplet of rain.  I’ve seen gorgeous, layered sheitels, falling near to the middle of a woman’s back.  I’ve seen sheitels that are the epitome of practicality, with nary a nod to fashion.  Sheitels so expertly blended with real hair that one would honestly never know it was a sheitel.  Sheitels which clearly do not match the original, as a shock of hair reveals.

A brief history of my sheitels

I purchased my first sheitel when I was engaged, and spent around $1400.  It was the first one I tried on, which is great mazel, or so everyone told me.  It was cut and styled beautifully by the sheitel macher who sold it to me, and when she was finished I walked out of her salon with glamorous curls and long, side-swept bangs.  I felt marvelous, I felt beautiful, I felt … anxious.

This was my first exposure to sheitel style anxiety.  From the time the sheitel was styled, I felt a crushing anxiety that I shouldn’t mess up the coiffure, that it should stay PERFECT.  And I felt this anxiety every time I would get my sheitel done.  It was really aggravating.

Eventually, I learned that I should stick with uncomplicated styles, which tend to look decent for a while, and are less disappointing when they “fall.”  Also, I just learned not to take my hair too seriously.  It was not worth the stress.

this was still too high-maintenance for me

About six months or so into marriage, I purchased a second sheitel, a band fall.  This is a sheitel without bangs, worn with a fabric band, or scarf, or whatever.  It’s about half the price of a “full” sheitel (that’s the one with bangs), and I assigned the fall to be my weekday sheitel, saving my full, more expensive one, for Shabbos and Yom Tov.

nice and laid back. and half the cost.

It took me a while before I felt comfortable with my sheitels, but I’ve finally gotten there.  I purchased a new full sheitel when we moved to Baltimore, and I absolutely love it.  It’s very comfortable, not too much body, it wasn’t a fortune (okay, not a fortune for a sheitel), and I got a simple cut which works for me.  I feel like it’s the fruit of four years of struggling with my sheitels – I knew what to look for when I was shopping for one.

Generally, I wear my sheitel when my husband is around, when I want to be incognito, or if I just feel like it would look better with my outfit.  So I don’t wear one everyday, and sometimes I go a couple days without donning one.  Other times I’ll find myself wearing one so constantly that I start to get tired of it.  It just depends.  When I’m not covering my hair with a sheitel, I’m covering it with other things, but we’ll get to that later.

How *not* to let people know you’re wearing a wig

When I was newly, newly married, I worked in a office.  My boss was an Orthodox guy, but I was the only other Jewish employee, and I was basically the only other Jew that my co-workers had any interaction with.  They didn’t know about the whole covering my hair with hair thing.

Eventually, one of my co-workers complimented me on how my hair looked perfect every day.

“Oh, this?”  I said.  “It’s a wig.”  I saw her face quickly turn crimson.  “For religious purposes, um, mumble bleargh….” I trailed off.  I realized that I should probably think of a considerate, intelligent explanation for why I was wearing a wig.  I still feel bad that my attempt at a nonchalant response made her so embarrassed.

One of my other co-workers didn’t believe that it was a wig, so she came up right to my head and inspected.

“No way!  That’s unbelievable.”

Yes, it is a little unbelievable.  Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have believed that I would be covering my hair with a wig, but, here I am.

What I love about my sheitels:

  • I don’t have to try hard to look nice.  I can just put one on and BAM!  Instant polish and coif.  I cannot overstate how awesome that is.  The only thing I use my hairdryer and flat iron for is entertaining Little Man.
  • I feel comfortable that all my hair is really covered.  With tichels and hats and other coverings, I feel like there’s always some hair peeking out somewhere, and I’m constantly adjusting and tucking the errant hairs back in (I’m sure my tichel-only friends are much better at it than I am).  With my sheitel, I don’t have to worry about it.  With those sheitel clips in, that baby isn’t going anywhere.
  • The ability to blend in (unless it’s August and I’m still in long-sleeves when everyone else is in tank tops and shorts).  In locations with scant Orthodox presence, it’s nice to have a less conspicuous option.  Doctor’s offices, DMVs, the airport, you get the idea.

What I don’t love about my sheitels:

  • Well, there’s the price tag.  They’re not cheap (though there is a fabulous sheitel consignment business here in Baltimore, and I have friends who have purchased sheitels through gemachs), and there’s not always a guarantee that spending $2K will lead to a good sheitel.
  • Someone else has to style it for me.  I tried to do it myself.  Big mistake.  I do not have that talent.  Also, if you don’t like the haircut, it’s not growing back.
  • When I’m feeling tired, I can’t really just plop onto the couch.  I’m more reticent to lay my head down on a pillow when I’m wearing my sheitel.  It’s not like I’ve never done it, but it’s just not great headgear for lounging.

At the end of the day, I like my sheitels.  I’m happy to cover my hair with them.  They work for me.  And when they don’t, I have other options, which I will discuss in part two.  Stay tuned!

What do you think about sheitels? 

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31 thoughts on “Me and My Covered Hair, Part One: the Sheitel

  1. As a fellow BT, I started to cover with the half-tichel look, advancing eventually to full tichel or beret. My husband then took on the minhag of Chabad, and though I tried a sheitel a few times, it felt very revealing to me and I couldn’t get used to it. Got a lot more looks from men — didn’t feel tsnius in it, and I specifically got a shorter one. While a few strands may peek out of a head covering, I feel much more tsnius in a tichel or beret, and I usually wear double head covering. I also feel like wearing a sheitel is such a responsibility as far as getting one that’s solidly tsnius, and — I’ll admit — I’m wary of tapering with my olam haba on this when I’ll have many other things to account for.

    • I hear what you’re saying, though I think that whether it’s a sheitel or a tichel, there are ways of being tznius with it and ways of not. Kudos for being sensitive to it, and may you always have much hatzlacha in this mitzvah!

    • They are great in the airport, though I’ve heard that one has to be sure not to use a metal clip in their real hair, or it can set off the detector. I only use elastics to hold my hair up, so I’ve never experienced that.

    • Re: Airport security:

      As a non-sheitel-wearer, I just went through a trip to America that included 2 international flights and seven domestic flights (three cities to visit, two of which were small enough not to have direct lights from everywhere). Not once did I have to take anything off. They asked me to, but I said I couldn’t for religious reasons. So I got a couple head-pats by a woman through the snood. For the times when they wanted a full pat-down (or when I had the time pre-flight to request one rather than go through the x-ray machine cause I’m pregnant), I thought it quite un-tzanua to be patted down in public, so I went in the little room on the side and got a whole body pat-down by a woman, again with a head-pat through the snood. And my husband had plenty of time to get his shoes back on :)

      • That’s fantastic that you had such a great experience, and lol on your husband’s time to put on his shoes! I have a close friend who unfortunately had a very negative experience in the Barcelona airport. She was wearing a tichel and when asked to remove it, she cited religious reasons. They responded “There’s no religion here,” and she had to take it off.

        May we all only have positive airport experiences!

    • I can imagine that it comes off as soon as you walk in the door! And I feel you on the styling thing. This is why I take mine in so sporadically. I just can’t be bothered sometimes. Oh well.

  2. You mention that a sheitel is good for blending in, but that’s exactly why I love mitpachot. I like knowing that when someone sees me, he/she knows within one millisecond that I’m married.

    I also loved wearing mitpachot during a trip to the States and Toronto last summer, especially out in public (as opposed to shul or something). I’m not the same as the general public and I like that the way I dress reflects that!

  3. Pingback: Rivki Silver is no Huffaloftus! « Lessons From Teachers and Twits

  4. I love that the head covering is a symbol of being married for your culture and religion. I highly respect the honor it gives to your G-d and your husband. I don’t believe as a previous comment says that it impedes your freedom at all. How rude. I’ve enjoyed learning more about you and your culture, Rivki. Thanks for posting.

  5. I can’t stand the sheitel clips! i never use the side ones, because they bother me, and the top one bothers me, too, so I’m always fiddling with it – and then I find out that the reason why I stopped fiddling is because I have a tiny triangle of hair showing at the top. Sigh. At least the tiny triangle tells people that it’s a wig, right? :D However, I have to say that it might not be the sheitel’s fault, because I have [a lesser version of] the same issue with tichels.

    • One of my friends recently introduced me to the velvet band, where you wear this velvet headband under your sheitel, and you don’t have to use ANY clips, as the band keep your sheitel securely in place. I am totally getting one of these. What do you mean about the triangle of hair – do you meant that your hairline comes to a point in the front?

  6. Thanks for all the information. I’m going to get my husband a nice sheitel for his birthday. Wish I had known about all the sales before Channukah. But he’s a great husband so I don’t mind paying full price for his modesty. I’m sure he will be the envy of every other husband at our shul.

  7. You confuse respect and politeness. Politeness may dictate I not criticize your sexism and mistreatment of girls and women, But respect does not. Change would never happen if we were always polite. One need not refrain from criticizing all behavior or cultures. Especially those that we believe are wrong and harmful. The point still stands. My husband’s modesty is as valuable as mine both to me as his partner in life and to himself. Neither of us are harmed exposed by showing our hair. That is respect given and received. Your children deserve no less in their future lives. If Orthodox culture showed women respect, it would only require of them what is required of boys and men, for their heads to be covered. But there is little to no rational respect for women in Orthodox Judaism.

    • Well, being impolite to me, a complete stranger on the internet, even if you vehemently disagree with me, is not an effective way to exact change. It just seems rude and snarky to me.

      It is common to confuse equality with respect. Orthodoxy acknowledges inherent differences between men and women, and the spiritual practices reflect that. If Orthodoxy required of me what it did of men, I would be obligated to daven with a minyan three times a day, lay tefillin, wear a tallis during prayer and wear a tallis katan underneath my clothing, among other things. Those are lovely mitzvos, but impractical for a women at my stage of life, as the mother of three small children. Someday, when my kids are out of the house, I hope to be able to daven regularly with a minyan. But I’m not obligated to do so, and I find that very freeing.

      Having lived outside of the Orthodox world as well as within it, my experience has been that I have been accorded more respect within Orthodox society. I think the acknowledgment of differences between men and women is a very rational thing. Are there people within Orthodoxy who are sexist and mistreat women? Absolutely! Are there people in general society who are sexist and mistreat women? Absolutely! I would rather my daughter grow up in a society where they are not encouraged to dress provocatively while they are tweens.

      I expect that you will still disagree with me, and that is your choice. But know that as someone who has chosen to live in accordance with halacha, I find Orthodoxy neither irrational, sexist or disrespectful. I am happy to explain to you why I have made the choices I have made, and why I find living according to halacha a fulfilling and beautiful life. But it would be much easier to do if you the discussion were more, shall we say, civil?

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