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Why are all the cool girls wearing yarmulkes?

If you have a passion for fashion, enjoy exotic headgear, or, if you, like me, just happen to go outside once in a while, then there is a good chance that you, too, have crossed paths with the “crochet skullcap.” Cobweb-thin and dainty, they come in as many colors as Joseph’s coat and just as many stitch patterns. Some have little stars or pom-poms on the fringe. Some even have brims, like a lampshade but for your head.

I had never seen one of these creations until a few months ago. For reasons I cannot disclose, I was walking down Carnaby Street, a famous shopping mecca in London’s SoHo neighborhood, squinting down at Google Maps when some spirit — maybe God — compelled me to look up. Before me in the afternoon glare stood a glimmering seraph. She was tall and gleaming, sliding languidly down the street like a cheetah on a runway. And on her head she wore … a yarmulke?! I blinked and shook myself. When I looked again, she was gone.

But her image had burned itself into my memory like acid on copper. Specifically that yarmulke of hers. It was like a lilac doily, but with more structural integrity. It was also bigger than the average yarmulke. Whereas your standard yarmulke is around bald-spot-sized, this woman’s yarmulke was big enough to engulf her whole cranium.

Back in America, preliminary Googling revealed that part of the reason the woman’s yarmulke was so big and purple was that it was not a yarmulke at all, but a “crochet skullcap.” A Vogue article addressed the very question that was plaguing me: “Why Is Everyone Wearing a Tiny Crochet Skullcap?” Everyone, that is, who attended Copenhagen Spring Fashion Week 2026, where apparently everybody “got the memo to wear a tiny crochet skullcap.” Had they all unexpectedly converted to Judaism?

Attendees at Copenhagen Fashion Week 2026 who got the crochet-cap memo. Photo by Paul Gonzales/Getty Images

The article offered alternative theories: Perhaps the artisanal, handmade connotations of crochet (even when mass-produced) appealed to Danish dames; perhaps these head coverings were a symptom of nostalgia for the ’60s and ’70s, when crochet skullcaps were so popular among the freewheeling hippies that the original 2007 release of Julie Albright, the American Girl Doll emblematic of ’70s San Francisco, came with a tiny lilac skullcap of her own.

On the other hand, maybe the crochet skullcap’s ascendance was proof that the cultural pendulum was swinging conservative. I was deep into the article when I found what I had been looking for: my smoking gun, nestled between two parentheses. The crochet skullcap, one fashion expert noted, “is similar to religious head coverings, like the kufi and yarmulke.”

“HA!” I yelled. If there had been any birds in my kitchen, they would have scattered. So I wasn’t insane after all!

Further research revealed that these tiny crochet circlets contained great contradictions. How was it possible that hippy-dippy flower children had pulled up at Woodstock wearing more or less the same hat that other guys wore while praying three to five times a day? Among the religious demographic, the yarmulke and kufi symbolized modesty and humility before God. Among fashion-forward extremists, the crocheted skullcap — some of which sell online for more than $300 — symbolized chicness, even status. Such a paradox required the help of an expert. So I wrote to Janet Linville, the head milliner at the Metropolitan Opera and senior millinery instructor at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) with my question: What did this hat mean?

Unsurprisingly, there were many meanings. “This sort of head covering goes a long way back in history,” she wrote. “Similar caps were worn at night to ‘keep the spirits in (or out), to cover tempting hair, to show marital status, and for religious deference reasons.” On the off-chance the Copenhagen Fashion Week crowd wasn’t trying to keep spirits out or cover their tempting hair, Linville offered another theory: Perhaps it was just that “handmade crafted looks, such as embroidery and knitting have been more popular recently.” In other words, maybe people were just wearing something because it looked cool, not because they were tapping into a millennia-long monotheistic tradition. “I suppose there’s an argument to be made that we are living in more conservative times,” she wrote, “but crocheted skull caps were also popular in the permissive ’60s and ’70s.”

The crochet skull cap falls in step with a broader trend of cool-ifying symbols of tradition and even conservatism, such as the corset, the crucifix, the “prairie dress,” and the “milkmaid dress.” (Evie Magazine’s “Raw Milk Maid Dress” sparked furor in the tradwife community over what was viewed as an unpasteurized level of sexiness.) El País reports that from 2024 to 2025, online searches for knee-length skirts rose by 33%, equestrian boots by 39%, and gingham checks, a pattern some consider evocative of 1950s domesticity, by 33%.

But it is hard to know what people are thinking when they follow trends. Perhaps it is to promote one idea, or to subvert another. Perhaps it is because other people are doing it. Perhaps it is for no reason at all. For my part, I’m thinking of getting in on this trend while it’s hot. There’s a soccer-ball-themed yarmulke from my cousin’s bar mitzvah lying around the house somewhere. All I need to do now is punch a few holes.

The post Why are all the cool girls wearing yarmulkes? appeared first on The Forward.

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‘Mr. Jambo’ is the sendup of Paul Simon that we need now

Paul Simon may be having his quiet celebration, but a viral music video refuses to let the musical icon go quietly for his classic, but often questionable, forays into Africa.

Jewish comedian and musician Kyle Gordon’s song “Mr. Jambo” is both tribute and critical sendup of 1986’s Graceland, Simon’s seminal ethnomusicology experiment, for which he controversially broke a cultural boycott of Apartheid South Africa.

While the music video starts with a spinning globe a la Toto’s “Africa,” the jaunty rhythm and Gordon’s appearance in a Mets cap leaves no doubt the artist he had in mind when he self-financed a trip to South Africa and Eswatini.

Gordon’s character is a wide-eyed and willing fetishizer of Africana, bothering a beleaguered man he calls “Mr. Jambo” (likely a misunderstanding — Jambo means “hello” in Swahili). Jambo responds to Gordon’s requests for enlightenment and wisdom in Zulu, and our protagonist admits “I couldn’t speak his language, I couldn’t even understand a word. But I knew the meaning was what I decided I had heard.”

The meaning leads us to the chorus, a litany of cliches about nature, love and “ancient scrolls,” which, admittedly, does sound a lot like Toto. (Jambo’s true words, visible if you watch with subtitles, translate as “I don’t speak English. Do you have a translator? Stop yelling at me.”)

Gordon’s satire, a collaboration with local African musicians, nails Simon’s sound while simultaneously poking fun at the use of decidedly non-African brass instruments as played by men in traditional garb.

Now Graceland is an iconic record and the work of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, whom the album elevated to international attention, is sublime. But there is undoubtedly a bit of weird anthropological tourism behind the endeavor. (Norman Mailer would have notes.)

I had the opportunity to see Simon live at Tanglewood last month, where he performed to a crowd composed in no small part of his demographic contemporaries. He played some songs from Graceland (following his soporific “Psalms”). When he broke into “Under African Skies,” the opening line of which is “Joseph’s face was as black as night/The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes,” it took a lot to suppress the cringe.

Gordon’s riff could, in fact, be a sort of antidote, acknowledging that yeah, the music is good, but also kinda messed up right?

As the “Planet of the Bass” star told Vulture, the Africans weren’t only in on Gordon’s joke, they were laughing at him.

That is both a miracle and a wonder.

The post ‘Mr. Jambo’ is the sendup of Paul Simon that we need now appeared first on The Forward.

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For this fashion-forward rabbi, shoes and scripture are intertwined

The rabbinate doesn’t have one look, and Reform Rabbi Arielle Stein’s version is chic, creative and fashion-forward. Stein, who serves as assistant rabbi at Rodeph Sholom, a congregation on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, has been using her Instagram to demonstrate the diversity of what being a rabbi can look like.

“We’re in a moment where so many people that wouldn’t have necessarily seen themselves on the Bima are in Jewish leadership,” she said.

Stein grew up in the Conservative movement as part of a very “intensely culturally Jewish family” with a lot of variation in practice and denomination. The rabbinate was a family tradition, filled with many Jewish academics; from a young age, Stein understood being a rabbi as “a job that exists that you can do.”

She studied Studio Art at NYU Steinhardt, exploring primarily drawing and sculpture. Initially, Stein had aspirations of working as a visual artist, and later worked as an artist’s assistant and in galleries, but upon graduating college, she realized the art world was “not going to be the best fit.” While trying out various jobs for the next few years, the idea of being a rabbi began to speak to her.

Stein sought out different kinds of religious egalitarian spaces to determine what kind of rabbi she wanted to be. She spent a year at the Hadar Institute, an egalitarian yeshiva where she intensively studied Talmud and other Jewish texts. Though she discovered she had a deep passion for learning, she also realized that a traditionally Halachic lifestyle wasn’t for her — “I’m not great with rules,” Stein told me. Ultimately, she was drawn to the interpretive nature of the Reform tradition and attended Hebrew Union College, interning at various congregations throughout her schooling.

Courtesy of Rabbi Arielle Stein

Stein’s interest in art didn’t disappear with her new career; in fact, she sees it as deeply Jewish, and describes Judaism as “intensely spiritually creative.” For Stein, the process of creation allows her to enter into a different spiritual space, one where “the world of spirit or God feels the most accessible.” Across her Instagram, there are illustrations of pomegranates, long-haired women surrounded by Hamentashen, and other pieces both sensual and captivating.

Stein says she is drawn to the concept of Hiddur Mitzvah, or the ‘beautification of the commandment.’ She loves Jewish material culture, she told me, and “helping people find the Jewish objects that help facilitate their Jewish life.” In one video, Stein talks through the preparation of a mezuzah.

“I hope to one day work on a project where we are making real Judaic objects in a serious, fine art way,” she said.

Stein also finds a creative outlet through fashion. Her shoe collection has been the subject of several videos and inspired an article in Vogue last November. Her selections are eclectic, yet tasteful and religiously meaningful: a shoe for a Bris with an egg-like heel to symbolize the circle of life, Tory Burch shoes clad with a toe ring for weddings. She sees fashion as a conversation starter, one that humanizes her.

“It also helps people feel like they can have these interests and still be Jewish,” she told me.

As a rabbi today, Stein believes it’s important “to integrate all the parts of yourself,” and for her, fashion is “an important piece that can have spiritual significance and creativity.” With the help of her friend, Rabbi Rafi Ellenson, Stein has established a “Rabbinic Fit Check” Instagram account, which showcases the diverse style of rabbis across the country.

Stein stumbled upon content creation when she met a woman who previously worked for TikTok, who suggested that Stein share about her career — it was a “niche that isn’t really being filled outside of the Orthodox world.” Initially, she wasn’t interested, but after the woman followed up a few times, she decided to try it out.

Stein’s videos showcase her “freaky” shoe collection, but also delve into lessons on scripture and Jewish things she finds incredibly boring or chic (boring: a fixed idea on how rabbis should dress; chic: intentionality about eating). Recently, she’s been working on a “Two Minutes of Torah” series with the Reform Judaism Instagram. Stein describes her account as a “vehicle” that allows people to “stumble upon Jewish knowledge and Jewish content and Jewish culture in a way that you don’t necessarily need to be looking for it.”

Stein told me that her content has been especially helpful for Jews interested in progressive Judaism, who might not have a welcoming synagogue accessible to them. “It’s a way for people to find community and learn,” she said. According to Stein, many viewers have “followed the rabbit hole” and ended up attending services at her congregation or contacting Stein to officiate life cycle events.

Her content has also been met with confusion from some non-Jews and those of other denominations. Though most people ask questions with “positive curiosity,” some viewers have responded negatively to Stein being a female rabbi and not dressing particularly tsnius, or modest. Stein believes this is because “they had actually never encountered a rabbi that was different from their childhood rabbi or the images they had been taught.” In response, she likes to draw on the example of Osnat Barzani, a woman from 16th century Kurdistan who is often said to be the first female rabbi.

“She’s an amazing character for people to learn about, to say, yes this has not been the norm for most of our history, but it is actually not solely a 20th, 21st century phenomenon,” Stein said.

For Stein, teaching has become a deeply meaningful activity, whether that be adult Jewish education or guest classes at universities. She recalls a memorable moment at a class she taught at Colby College on the Song of Songs. The course was open to Jewish students and non-Jews alike, and explored the text through visual art.

What makes the college classes especially worthwhile for Stein is the ability to shape the next generation of rabbinical leaders. The rabbinate isn’t a career that often comes to mind, and Stein told me that she loved “being able to suggest it to students.” She believes that, through her content and practice, a new generation might see themselves reflected in the rabbinical field — realizing not only that it’s “a job, but it’s maybe a job that I could do.”

The post For this fashion-forward rabbi, shoes and scripture are intertwined appeared first on The Forward.

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French Jewish DJ Barbara Butch is defiant after concert disrupted by pro-Palestinian protesters

(JTA) — The popular French Jewish DJ Barbara Butch is striking a defiant tone after pro-Palestinian activists disrupted her concert in Grenoble, France, vowing not to be cowed from performing.

Butch has also drawn support from Jewish activists who demonstrated outside the office of the far-left party whose top Grenoble official called for her performance to be canceled and has since doubled down, drawing support from anti-Zionist French Jews in the process.

Butch, who came to prominence after appearing at the opening ceremony of the 2024 summer Olympics in Paris, had to be escorted off the stage at the Cabaret Frappé festival on Saturday, barely 20 minutes into her set.

The City of Grenoble filed a complaint against what it called “persons unknown” following the incident. Mayor Laurence Ruffin said authorities had evidence of violence and sabotage of electrical equipment. She rejected arguments that the protest was peaceful.

“There were actions that are unacceptable,” Ruffin said, adding that while Grenoble has consistently supported the Palestinian people, demonstrations “must be peaceful and democratic.”

According to Butch, protesters shouted insults and threw objects, including glass bottles that shattered near her DJ console. In a video statement posted to social media on Monday, she said she had been frightened and described the attack as “the next stage in a campaign” that, she said, had sought for months to exclude her from artistic and public life. She added that legal complaints had been prepared and she vowed: “I will return to the stage.”

The attack on Butch came after pro-Palestinian activists called to boycott or cancel her appearance, citing her support for legislation widely viewed as pro-Israel and her travel to Tel Aviv.

A leader of the effort was Allan Brunson, the Grenoble chair of the far-left party France Unbowed, which has a pro-Palestinian platform. (Its leader, Jean-Luc Melenchon, has been accused of echoing antisemitic stereotypes and dismissing the threat of antisemitism.) After politicians from other parties called for him to be sanctioned over his calls, Brunon tweeted ahead of the concert, “What a pleasure it would be for me to be sanctioned for calling on activists supportive of the Palestinian people to organize against the arrival of B. Butch.”

After its disruption, he posted a video of pro-Palestinian activists rallying in Grenoble and said he would next take aim at the city’s formal relationship with the Israeli city of Rehovot.

The legislation, known as Yadan after the French lawmaker, Caroline Yadan, who proposed it in 2024, aimed to combat “new forms of antisemitism” by expanding terrorism-related offenses and criminalizing calls for the destruction of a state recognized by France — a provision widely understood to be aimed at calls for Israel’s destruction, although the bill did not explicitly name Israel.

Supporters argued the legislation was a necessary response to the rising antisemitism following Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel. Critics said the bill risked restricting freedom of expression by blurring the line between anti-Zionism and antisemitism.

The proposal divided public opinion and the bill was withdrawn in April, a month after a group of artists signed a March 2026 essay in Le Point supporting it. Butch, who has cited her participation in the French Jewish scouting movement as formative, was among the signatories.

Following the Grenoble incident, Butch and her lawyer, Audrey Msellati, co-authored an op-ed in Le Monde arguing that the protest had crossed the line from political disagreement into intimidation and violence — “the one separating protest from coercion, disagreement from intimidation, speech from violence. We were no longer responding to an artist: we were chasing her off the stage.”

They wrote that while people are free to criticize an artist or disagree with Butch’s views, “one cannot organize her disappearance,” arguing that campaigns to pressure venues into canceling performances threaten artistic freedom and democratic principles.

Yonathan Arfi, the president of CRIF, France’s communal Jewish body, said in a statement that the demonstration against Butch is part of a worrying pattern, which he attributed to France Unbowed, of intimidation of Jewish artists that he said was “turning cultural stages into political tribunals.” He called on the French government to “urgently” create a plan to combat boycotts in the arts.

The European Jewish Congress, too, expressed support for Butch, saying, “We stand in full solidarity with Barbara Butch. No one should be intimidated, threatened or targeted for being Jewish or for speaking out against antisemitism.”

The Union of French Jewish Students, along with a handful of other liberal Jewish groups, rallied near France Unbowed’s Paris headquarters on Monday in support of Butch. Brunon has drawn support, on the other hand, from anti-Zionist French Jews who say the Yadan bill represents an exploitation of antisemitism concerns to silence criticism of Israel.

The Grenoble incident is the latest in a series of controversies involving Butch, who became internationally known after performing in drag during the opening ceremony of the Paris 2024 Olympic Games.

She filed criminal complaints after receiving death threats and online abuse after the ceremony. Four men were later convicted in connection with the online harassment campaign against her.

The latest incident has also drawn attention from abroad, eliciting support for her from fellow artists and followers on social media.

One widely shared Instagram post by @YiddishFeminist described Butch as “a proud, loud queer Jewish woman” who had faced “antisemitism, homophobia and fatphobia.”

“No one should ever be forced to leave a stage because a hateful crowd resorts to intimidation and violence,” the poster said. “Today, we are all Barbara Butch.”

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post French Jewish DJ Barbara Butch is defiant after concert disrupted by pro-Palestinian protesters appeared first on The Forward.

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