(In a Ferragamo-ish twist, one had been wearing a sweatshirt with a midiskirt.) A week later, the older sister of a close friend reached out with a photo of a mannequin outfitted in an apron dress and a five-word assessment: “ Fiddler on the Roof vibes.” Leandra Medine Cohen, who writes a fashion newsletter and attended the same Jewish high school as I did, practices word association when I ask what Torah-teacher aesthetic means to her: “Silk scarves as head coverings, denim skirts that hit at least four inches below the knee,” she writes in an email. Last month Alexandra Citrin-Safadi, an illustrator, uploaded a snap of a group of Orthodox Jewish girls to her Instagram Stories. How else to explain its hoodie-skirt combos? Ferragamo has gone one step further, appearing to have pulled photos of me as a dress-code-abiding junior in high school for its mood board. Sacai showed white-collared shirts with pinstripe skirts and over-the-knee boots. Last month, Tibi sent a model out in a denim shirt-skirt combo and topped it with a denim kerchief, recalling the schmatas that some Orthodox Jewish women wear to cover their hair after marriage. We’re all pulling from their closets now.
Long before magazine editors were clomping around in loafers and wearing thigh-skimming oxford shirts over dresses, Torah teachers were tinkering with the formula. Jewish educators who teach in traditional institutions choose these clothes both to adhere to rabbinic precepts, which mandate certain kinds of modest dress, and to meet the practical needs of their work: cardigans and leggings under skirts for unpredictable thermostats, thick-soled flats and boots for the long hours in front of the whiteboard. Sandy Liang fall 2023 Photo: Filippo Fior /
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