Something Borrowed

When I was a child at Jewish day school in my hometown of Melbourne, Australia, in the early 2000s, Tu B’Av was not one of the big holidays we celebrated. Occasionally, to mark this ancient festival—which falls on the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Av, this year starting the evening of Aug. 18—we would make papier-mâché flowers, paint a picture of a bride and groom, or otherwise dance in pairs at school assembly. But in general, the day would pass without much fanfare.

When I moved to Jerusalem in 2021, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Tu B’Av in Israel is a pretty big deal, essentially the Jewish equivalent of Valentine’s Day. Restaurants advertise special menus, bars serve love-themed fruity cocktails, and Tu B’Av greeting cards fly off the shelves. Florists and chocolate shops also embrace the holiday, with beautiful bouquets of red roses, heart-shaped balloons, and boxes of chocolate becoming bestsellers. All of this helps Israelis feel and experience the true spirit of Tu B’Av, this unique Jewish holiday of love—which has traditionally been considered an auspicious day to get married.

The origins of Tu B’Av are somewhat obscure. It is briefly mentioned in the Talmud in Tractate Ta’anit (26b-31a), which discusses various reasons why Tu B’Av is considered a festive day and the customs associated with it. Specifically, Tu B’Av was celebrated for several centuries during the Second Temple period, marked by young maidens who would dance in the vineyards wearing identical, borrowed, white dresses to find prospective husbands. The Talmud notes that the dresses were borrowed to prevent any embarrassment for those who couldn’t afford their own. As the women danced, eligible bachelors would come to watch and choose a wife.

When I got married in Jerusalem this past January, I like to think that I took inspiration from the Tu B’Av story. In preparation for my wedding, I knew that I wanted to wear a borrowed dress, or otherwise buy a secondhand vintage one. This is because, first, I was (and still am) living through a time of war and it felt wrong to spend thousands of dollars on a dress for what is essentially a six-hour party. Second, I also wanted to be mindful of the environment. Since 2016, the vast majority of my wardrobe has been curated from secondhand and vintage shops.

Many people harbor misconceptions about borrowing an older wedding dress, thinking that it might be ugly or outdated. However, from the Tu B’Av story, I know that for thousands of years, it has been customary for Jewish brides to wear a borrowed wedding dress for their nuptials. We’re basically the originals when it comes to avoiding fast fashion and upcycling old pieces from our wardrobes!

With my wedding date set, I racked my brain for a wedding dress I could borrow, but none came to mind. I searched for vintage wedding dresses on Etsy and eBay but I kept running into issues: Either the dresses weren’t my size, or no longer retained the original pizzazz and vibe I was seeking.

One day, during this intense online search for a vintage wedding dress, karma must have been on my side, because a memory popped up on my iPhone. It was a picture of me trying on my aunt’s wedding dress during one of my trips to her house in Sydney back in 2015, when I had spent a fun afternoon dressing up in her old clothes.

When my aunt got married in 1983, her wedding dress represented the height of 1980s fashion, complete with puffy sleeves, lacy frills on the collar and arms, and embroidered flowers on the bodice, as well as lace details with white polka dots.

Now that I needed a dress, I intently studied the memory on my phone, and I couldn’t help noticing just how unique and beautiful the dress was. With a rush of excitement, I called my aunt and asked her if by any chance she would consider letting me wear her wedding gown? She instantly agreed, thrilled by the prospect of it getting another walk down the aisle. After 41 years of sitting in a box, she was very glad for me to update her dress, and without hesitation permitted me to make any necessary changes or alterations.

When my aunt’s vacuum-sealed 1983 wedding dress was delivered to my apartment in Jerusalem after its long trek across the world, I felt elated. In the four decades it had been in a box, its beauty had been retained, but I still wanted to make a few updates for my wedding. My local dressmaker worked her magic, removing some of the 1980s frills but retaining most of the iconic features, including the beautiful puffy sleeves and the high lace neckline.

After the dry cleaning and alterations, the total cost of my wedding gown was $192. I had acquired a beautiful, handmade, and unique wedding dress. On my wedding day, I was struck with emotion by the sentimentality of wearing a borrowed gown from my beloved and fashionable aunt, who proved that decades on, her wedding dress still retained its original elegance and style.

My wedding dress not only made me feel beautiful but also served as a reminder to everyone that borrowed, preloved dresses can and do withstand the test of time. It’s an idea that has always been present in Tu B’Av: that sharing and lending out your wedding dress or donating it to a gemach—free loan society for bridal gowns—allows everyone to have a gorgeous dress to help the bride feel beautiful and enhance the overall experience.

Since moving to Israel, Tu B’Av has become one of my favorite Jewish festivals in a way that Valentine’s Day never was. So this year on Tu B’Av, in addition to the fun date my husband and I have planned, I’m going to do something extra special. Another recently married friend and I are going to donate our wedding dresses to a local gemach so that the tradition of giving and wearing borrowed dresses can continue, just as Tu B’Av’s tradition teaches us.