It seems that everyone who was ever good at playing with her friends’ hair takes a sheitel course. To become a name in this field you need to be honest. I won’t sell a wig just to make a sale — I have to be confident it’s the best fit for the client. If someone tries on a wig and I don’t like the way the scalp fits or how it lays on her head I’ll say “I don’t like this choice for you.” If I don’t like the hair or the texture on a sheitel we get in I’ll send it back.

I sell a bunch of different brands so I paint the picture for the customers — the expectations for how long each company’s wigs last how it holds up. Even if someone wants to buy on the spot if I don’t love how the wig looks or fits I tell her to come back so I can get better options in for her to choose from. That honesty is what keeps my customers happy it gains trust which is what brings people back.

My most important character trait is

patience. Whether it’s working with a kallah to show her how to fit her very thick hair under a wig or a lady who’s trying on the same three wigs ten times in a row — “Let me try this one once more… Now this one… This one again” — I remember that it’s a big purchase it’s your appearance it’s a big decision. You can’t rush people. Patience is a really necessary part of the job.

You also have to be able to manage the crowd — the pickups and drop-offs and trying on and cuts — and the conversations and to take care of your customers to really care about them. I had the privilege of working with my mother Tova Lisker who’s been a name in this business for almost 30 years and because of her I’ve always had what to aspire to not only in the art of the scissor but in the way she treats and interacts with every customer.

The oddest request I ever got

was when my non-Jewish housekeeper asked me for a wig. She told me she thinks they’re pretty.

When the kallah wants one thing but her mother (or mother-in-law!) has a very different idea of what she should be getting I

try to walk away for a few minutes. It gives them time to talk it out without feeling like I’m standing over them putting pressure on them to agree on something. This is one of the hardest parts of my job because I want the kallah to be excited to wear a wig but at the same time the mother or mother-in-law is paying for it so she has to be happy too. I try to help them compromise somewhere in the middle. For example when the kallah wants it long and the mother wants it shorter I explain that when we curl the wig it loses an inch in length. There’s nothing worse than cutting a kallah’s wig too short because it will sit on the shelf and she won’t wear it. The mother is usually right the daughter just has to come to the realization on her own — and she usually does come back to recut.

Something I find myself repeating often is

“Let’s go slow. I’m in no rush to cut.” I’d rather a customer come back a few times to recut, this way I know she’s comfortable with her decision and won’t regret anything.

The sheitelmacher is an amateur therapist, because once women are in that chair, they spill their guts. Agree or disagree?

More of a listening ear than a therapist. People talk about what’s going on in their lives, but not their deepest secrets — more like the basics: who’s going on vacation, whose kid is home sick, upcoming simchahs. There are times women will complain they don't like the way they look or feel about themselves, they need a boost, but that’s not therapy, it’s just the nature of the job —making each client feel pretty.

The most inspiring client I ever had

was a customer who came to cut her wig for tznius reasons. She told me she wouldn’t feel comfortable if Mashiach came and she was wearing that wig. There were tears in her eyes as we cut — it was probably an inch. It was so hard for her, but it was something she wanted to do. When we were done she came over and gave me a hug and kiss. “I just couldn’t greet Mashiach in that wig,” she said.

Shani Greenfield, 39, is the owner of Shani’s Sheitel Gemach in Jerusalem. She’s been working as a sheitelmacher for 20 years.

It seems that everyone who was ever good at playing with their friends’ hair takes a sheitel course. To become a name in this field, you need

happy customers. They’ll spread the word to their friends and advertise for you. It’s important for a sheitelmacher not only to have a fair amount of skill, but also to constantly update hairdressing knowledge. Then again, I may have had an easier time becoming well-known because I sell both new and pre-owned sheitels. My prices are cheaper than average; I wash and set all the secondhand sheitels and the cut is included. I have one main goal as a sheitel gemacher, as my friends like to call me — to make sure the customer is satisfied.

My most important character trait is

it’s important to have loads and loads of patience — I try to be patient with all of my clients —and lots of love for people. I love my job, but it does come with its challenges, and if you don’t love people or you’re impatient, you’ll get frustrated. I’m not sure I always pass the test, but I try! I try to greet every woman who walks through the door with a smile. Even though I’ve done this thousands of times, I always remind myself, “It’s her first time here, it should be a pleasant experience.”

The oddest request I ever got

was from someone who wanted a curly sheitel for her husband’s Purim costume; he had it set at an exclusive haircutting shop at the King David Hotel. I’ve had every type of women come to me — secular women who want to look younger, women who have never covered their hair trying out sheitels to see if they can work for them. I once had a woman who had had a chassidish upbringing but was no longer living that lifestyle. She still wanted to cover her hair; she asked me to cut one side of her sheitel short like a boy and the other side long and choppy.

When the kallah wants one thing, but her mother (or mother-in-law!) has a very different idea of what she should be getting, I

don’t get involved. It doesn’t happen as often as you think, but the few times it’s happened, I calmly told them to work out their differences before making the purchase, and definitely before I start to cut. A tactic I’ve learned is to suggest that I’d be glad to put a few sheitels on hold. This way they can take the time to sort out the best option because there’s no immediate pressure to buy anything.

When asked to get involved, I respond that even if I do have an opinion, since I won’t be wearing the sheitel and I don’t have a mitzvah of kibud eim here, it’s up to them. Once when I saw a kallah was very agitated and crying while her mother was looming over her with a measuring tape, I stopped in the middle of cutting and asked them to come back in a week, when they could work it out more comfortably. They did, and they both seemed pleased with the outcome. But that was unusual. What I usually see is so many mothers and daughters being mevater to each other, there’s so much respect that I’m often the one almost in tears of pride for Klal Yisrael.

Something I find myself repeating often is

how lovely it is to meet people. I’m lucky to get customers of all ages and nationalities from around the world, and I have many special friends that I met only because they needed a wig and came here.

The sheitelmacher is an amateur therapist, because once women are in that chair, they spill their guts. Agree or disagree?

The opposite — I often turn to my customers for advice because many of them have more life experience than I do. I’ve heard my share of people’s pain — newly divorced women, cancer patients, tzaar gidul banim, and women with unusual nisyonos. I’m good at crying with them and taking their names so I can daven for them. If knowing that I care helps, at least I can offer that.

The most inspiring client I ever had

A while ago there was a lady who donated her sheitel a few days before her sister came so she could secretly give her sister her sheitel without causing discomfort. I’m constantly awed by the simchas hachaim I so often witness. There’s no formula for the type of person who’s happy —happiness comes in all shapes and sizes, to people with normal lives or complicated ones. I see people who know Hashem loves them, and that their life is good, and they radiate joy. It’s most inspiring.

Rivkie Schochet, 55, is the owner of Rivkie’s Wig Salon in Toronto. She’s been working as a sheitelmacher for 30 years.

 It seems that everyone who was ever good at playing with their friends’ hair takes a sheitel course. To become a name in this field, you need

to stay current — knowledge about the latest trends, techniques, tools, and products is vital. It’s also a matter of materials — mine are exclusive for professionals. My scissors cost several hundred dollars each. Some products are better with certain sheitels, and you have to know sheitels inside out to know what works with which sheitel lines.

Another important part of being a top sheitelmacher is you’ve got to genuinely love people. It’s not just about making people look good, but also making them feel good about themselves. A sheitel isn’t just another fashion accessory; it’s the crown of a Jewish woman. Like a crown, it has to fit right, it should complement her looks, and be fashionable and chic. I love hearing from a customer that when she came home, her husband and kids told her, “Your sheitel makes you look like a queen,” because she is!

My most important character trait is

lots of energy. I’m energized by what I do, and by the customers in my chair. It’s necessary, because I work a long day. All preparation is done before the customer arrives, so she spends a minimal amount of time with me while the sheitel is being done. What this means for me is my typical day begins at 6:30 am and often goes past 7 pm. My staff — I have four women working for me — is typically in the salon from 8 to 5:30.

The oddest request I ever got

A customer with a large frame wanted a new sheitel for her son’s bar mitzvah, but she wanted it to make her look like she lost a hundred pounds. What could I do? We compromised; I created a sheitel that took off 50. Some people forget that I’m a beautician, not a magician — the comb in my hand isn’t a wand — but I’ll accommodate your request to the best of my ability.

Another memorable and inspiring request was from an older married lady who became frum. She told me her husband said a frum lifestyle wasn’t for him — she can do as she wishes in Yiddishkeit, but his only request is she shouldn’t wear a sheitel because he doesn’t want her looking like “those wigged ladies.” I worked very hard, and made a sheitel exactly like her hair, davening it would work out okay. She wore the sheitel home and her husband didn’t notice.

This went on for eight years, until one day she slipped and told him. He was shocked, obviously, and she said she’d kept it from him because she knew his position and wanted to avoid a confrontation. He told her, “If the sheitel looks like that, I have no problem with it.”

Imagine! For eight years, this woman covertly wore her sheitel, hiding it from her husband for the sake of shalom bayis. This incredible lady was niftar a few years ago; I have no doubt her sheitel is now sitting under the Kisei Hakavod.

 When the kallah wants one thing, but her mother (or mother-in-law!) has a very different idea of what she should be getting, I

deal with it sensitively. This issue comes up often — the seforim say the Satan tries to disrupt a simchah with strife, that’s where it’s coming from —a nd my goal is to keep them focused on the simchah by using chachmah, humor, and life experience. There’s no one-size-fits-all answer, but Hashem helps and we make it work.

I see disagreements all the time — the kallah wants a long sheitel but her mother wants shorter; the number of sheitels needed; getting an expensive second versus a cheaper third sheitel; going for a trendy style versus sticking to traditional. I have married children, so as a mother and mother-in-law, I can understand where each is coming from. I apply collaborative negotiation techniques to get them to an agreement. I’ve had kallahs tell me years later how they learned from the experience, and they applied these solutions to reach an agreement over other issues: where to spend Yom Tov, childrearing, and so on. Different roads might lead to the same castle, I say — just build the bridge between those roads.

Something I find myself repeating often is

“Trust me!” I’ve been doing this for a long time, my customers know I’ll give them the right look, a sheitel that best complements their facial features and coloring.

The sheitelmacher is an amateur therapist, because once women are in that chair, they spill their guts. Agree or disagree?

When the blow-dryer is on, I can’t hear a word, but I’ll nod and smile — it’s just like when she’s talking to her husband. I’m kidding.

Seriously, many customers have shared their emotions and opened their hearts about their aging parents, their children, their friends — all of the above and much more. I don’t claim to be a therapist, but everyone deserves a listening ear and sympathy. Sometimes they mention issues that need a rav’s input, and I’ll advise them to speak to one. My customers feel confident about seeking advice, secure in our friendship because they know I respect their privacy and I care about them.

The most inspiring client I ever had

A non-religious young married woman came to my store because she was in chemotherapy and losing her hair. Her mother came with her, they were both crying during the appointment. I spoke to them about emunah and suggested they start lighting Shabbos candles. They agreed to do it as a zechus for a refuah shelaimah, and I called her every Friday afternoon to remind her and tell her the zman.

At subsequent appointments, we spoke of other mitzvos, which she added. Fast-forward several years: she and her husband are shomer Shabbos, they transferred their children from public school to Jewish day schools. Baruch Hashem, she’s a survivor. Her hair grew back, but she still wears a sheitel, not because of an illness, but for the mitzvah.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 497)