Secrets of a Hasidic Wig Maker | The Press

It took three years of process, as well as a recommendation from the barber Daniel Dahan, from the second season of Hold loungeso that Sophie Fouron unravels the mystery of Hasidic wig makers in Outremont and Mile End.

The episode of Hold lounge which results, offered for free on the TV5 website, is excellent and answers many of our questions about these ultra-Orthodox Jews who never go out with their real hair exposed.

For half an hour, which could have turned into a 90-minute documentary, host Sophie Fouron sits in Shelly Shabbat’s wig shop, at the corner of Parc and Bernard avenues, and chats with five of her clients, all from the Lubavitch branch of Hasidism, probably the least rigorous of this restrictive religion.

So, hairpieces, why put them on every day? “Hair is like an attraction for men. When we get married, we have to cover our hair so other men can’t see it,” says interior designer Chany Lunger.

Thus, a Hasidic woman only shows her real hair to her husband. His own boys will never see them either. Rivka Huberman even covers her natural hair when she sleeps.

And no, Shelly and her friends don’t shave their entire heads like in the hard-hitting miniseries Unorthodox from Netflix, which derives from the book of the same name by Deborah Feldman. Some more strict communities, including the Satmar, impose full shaving to prevent locks from escaping from the wig, which would contravene the rules of modesty imposed on Hasidic women.

The more pious will also place a scarf or a hat on the hairpiece to ensure that no hair sticks out. A double protection, in a way.

At Shelly Shabbat’s Wigs, a quality wig costs between $2,500 and $3,500 US. The clients have two or three to begin their life as a wife, which they alternate according to the occasions (the most beautiful is kept for the Sabbath).

In her charming business, Shelly, 53, cuts, styles, washes and colors hair units (thank you, Living memories), in addition to providing aesthetic care. She feeds her Instagram page. She does not live in the Middle Ages, completely cut off from the modern world.

On camera, Sophie Fouron’s guests say they feel like princesses, like “married Jewish women”. True, they do not appear unhappy, indoctrinated or miserable. They all work outside, because it is the women who bring the money home, while their spouses study Torah.

For Shelly, Julia, Mazal or Rivka, the line not to cross is drawn in terms of seduction.

In their very conservative religion, a woman can be beautiful, but not attractive. She may be pretty, but not attractive. Their dress code is embroidered around modesty and humility, taken to the extreme.

No question of jumping into jeans or pants, not even to take out the trash in ten seconds. Only pajama bottoms are tolerated, but within the four walls of the family home.

Shelly Shabbat admits that this style of dress may look drab and old-fashioned, but it serves a purpose, which is to preserve the marriage.

“It’s you who protects the man,” observes Chany Lunger. Like you, I imagine, I winced at this sentence. In this parallel universe, the Jewish woman covers herself and prevents herself from speaking loudly in public so as not to attract lustful glances.

It is confronting for anyone who has been brought up in gender equality, where men are taught to contain their urges and above all not to blame women’s clothing for justifying their inappropriate behavior.

In Montreal, we rub shoulders with the Hasidic communities of Mile End, Outremont and Côte-Saint-Luc without really knowing them. A religious and cultural wall separates us from these men in hats and curlers as well as these mothers in long skirts and their gaggle of children on scooters.

Curious and relevant, Sophie Fouron also wonders about the gender balance between Hasidim and non-Jews. Can their children play with ours? Of course, answer Shelly and her friends. Could we invite you to dinner? raises Sophie Fouron. That’s more complicated.

The Lubavitch community eats kosher. It is therefore necessary to use different utensils for meat and milk, pork is prohibited and there must be no insects in fruits and vegetables, among others.

We learn a lot of interesting things by watching Hold lounge, a sociocapillary docuseries that plays Fridays at 8 p.m. on TV5. The episodes of the first two seasons can all be found on the TV5 site, it’s frankly well done.

For another type of look at the Hasidim, there is My Unorthodox Life (My Unorthodox Life) on Netflix, a documentary that follows Julia Haart, 51, who fled her ultra-Orthodox husband to become president of the Elite modeling agency in New York.

I saw the first two seasons – very entertaining – and Julia Haart, now emancipated, does not hesitate to say all the bad things she thinks of her old religion, which was a prison for her and her sisters.

Yes, the “docusoap” type episodes contain too much creaming and bling-bling. But they open a door (quite gloomy, I would say) on these closed communities that we rub shoulders with without really knowing them.