Dressing Up for Life: Clothing, Identity, and the Spirit of Purim

In our family, clothing was never just fabric—it was a statement, a story, a way of reclaiming dignity. My parents, both Holocaust survivors, taught my sisters and me that what we wore was more than appearance; it was an expression of who we were, where we came from, and how we chose to move forward. Every new garment was met with excitement, admiration, and a family fashion show, where we celebrated the simple but profound joy of dressing ourselves with pride and purpose.

This tradition reminds me of Purim, a holiday where clothing takes center stage. On Purim, we wear costumes, disguises, and masks, playing with identity while retelling the story of survival against all odds. Just as Queen Esther concealed and then revealed her true self to save her people, my parents’ relationship with clothing carried layers of meaning—first as something that had been stripped from them, then as something they reclaimed with love and intention.

For my parents, dressing well wasn’t about vanity; it was about resilience. It was about saying, “We are still here.” The forced wearing of the yellow star had once labeled them as less than human. But in our home, clothing was an act of defiance, a way to present ourselves as whole, dignified, and unbroken. Much like the Purim story, where hidden truths and reversals of fortune define the holiday, my family’s relationship with clothing was also one of transformation—of taking something once associated with suffering and turning it into a source of joy.

Purim teaches us to find light in darkness, to celebrate survival, and to embrace our identities, even when they are challenged. In our family, clothing did the same. Whether it was a new dress twirled in our living room or a carefully chosen outfit for a special occasion, what we wore was never just about fashion—it was about history, resilience, and the bright inner light that, no matter what, could never be extinguished.