Dress for Less

I’m still 20 feet away, but I’m already in conversation with Yossi like we’re old friends. “We didn’t name the store,” he says, waving a power drill in his hand around for emphasis. “When my wife opened it, I dunno how many years ago, she advertised costumes at closeout prices. The first customer called and said, ‘Hi, is this Costume Closeouts?’ and I guess we were.”

Mrs. Rivka Hirschman never planned on being the Purim lady for a city of hundreds of thousands of people, but she fell into the role almost 30 years ago. At a pre-Yom Tov seasonal mall put on by the Lakewood Cheder to raise funds, she noticed an enormous response to some costumes offered for sale. People were buying everything out. Realizing there was a large untapped market here, she began selling bargain costumes from home the next year.

“I got home a few minutes later than the time I had advertised we would open on day one,” she says, “and there was a line at my door.” It seems even she had underestimated the insatiable appetite locals have for Purim costumes and supplies.

Since that humble beginning, the store has grown by leaps and bounds, and today takes up all the floor space in the biggest box stores the Hirschmans can find.

“Purim is a very kid-friendly Yom Tov,” Mrs. Hirschman explains. “What won’t frum parents do for their kids?”

Pesach to Purim

“MY

wife is the driving force behind the business,” Yossi tells me, now resting his bearded chin comfortably on the end of the drill bit, distracting me slightly. “I just work here evenings a few weeks per year, guiding the perplexed among beards and canes.” The rest of the time, he’s an administrator in a Monsey girls’ school.

For Rivka, the shop is no pop-up. Her Purim season starts right after Pesach, when secular costume manufacturers are clearing out their old stock in advance of the billion-dollar holiday costume season, and she’s busy ordering costumes right up through October. There’s also one frum costume manufacturer that she orders from extensively, purchasing classic costumes from clowns to cops, alongside rebbes, Kohein Gadol getups, and sefer Torah suits.

She also designs and builds many of her own costumes, working with factories in China to get the specifications and sizing exactly right before production and delivery.

“It’s endless back-and-forth to get those beketshes right,” she sighs. “We send them a picture, they send back a sample, and we’re, like, ‘Perfect, if I’m a child with adult-size arms….’ ”

Several months before Purim, it’s time to secure a store for the season. Costume Closeouts doesn’t fit in an average storefront; it needs empty big-box stores like the Walgreens it’s in now. Its historical traipse around town includes notable landmarks, everything from the early years in the family home to an accounting firm, an old NAPA Auto Parts, a clothing store, a Barnes and Noble, even an autobody shop. (Yossi shakes his head, and the drill, at the memory. “Scrubbing and grease… so much scrubbing!”)

Once the contract is signed, permits need to be issued. It then takes four weeks to set the place up, installing shelving, racks, displays, registers, and moving tens of thousands of items from rented storage to the building.

The actual shop is open for about six weeks, from about Rosh Chodesh Shevat through Purim. Then there are a few weeks of cleanup and moving, inevitably followed by the fun of filing taxes.

It’s all over for Rivka about a week before Pesach. Of course, Pesach is a full-time job… and then the cycle begins again.

Insider Trading

We scheduled our interview for closing time, 8 p.m. on most nights, but you wouldn’t know. The store is packed, with people showing no signs of leaving. The Hirschmans are just nice people like that — instead of the doom and gloom “We are closing in X minutes. Please make your final selections…” announcements, they keep helping people puzzling over, “Do you think my Yanky would rather be a Lakewood policeman, or just a regular policeman?”

They’ve been on their feet all day, but the family members in this family-run shop are still smiling and helping nervous mothers nearly an hour after closing. My interview recording is a useless jumble of information interspersed with Yossi’s jovial, “Yes, young man, how can I help you? Ah, you want a hamantasch hat….”

Finally, almost an hour after closing time, when one young mother keeps politely interrupting us to ask if the clown suit she’s holding will fit her son, who’s about this tall, Mrs. Hirschman says, “We’re actually closed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” the shopper says, but then she spots ten-year-old Menachem Hirschman, who was helping out behind the polka-dot bow tie display. In a flash of brilliance that only Shmuel Kunda could aptly describe in rhyme, she says something like

“I’m buying a clown suit for my little bochur

He’s ten years old and his name is Yissachar

But by the time I got out to your parents’ shop

He was too tired and ready to drop

Now how will I know if it

Is really gonna fit?

But since you’re ten years old, too

Maybe I could try it out on you!”

Menachem smiles and complies with her request to try it on for size.

Costume Closeouts is the ultimate family business, like a Costume Nostra of sorts. As the cost of paid help for a seasonal concern would be prohibitive, Rabbi and Mrs. Hirschman are assisted throughout the season by most of their large family, including several married children. Nieces and nephews pitch in, too, coming over after school to have some fun helping out.

Shlomo Zalman Hirschman is behind the counter when I arrive. He’s a bespectacled, serious-looking, going-on bar mitzvah boy who takes his responsibility helping customers check out very seriously. Menachem appears a bit more impish. When I ask what his job in the store is, he answers immediately. “I’m the macher,” he says. Between all the work and late hours, I wonder aloud how many times they’ve had pizza or noodle soups for supper this week. A broad grin gives it all away.

But the two clearly enjoy their positions. It also gives them lots of social cred, come Adar time. Classmates are all trying to leverage their protektziya with insiders in the costume market, making them everybody’s rich uncle for a while.

The fact that the store offers a warm and family-friendly environment lends itself to some regrettable liberties on the part of its visitors, who immediately feel right at home. I can see it as I visit, but the Hirschmans don’t want to talk about it.

The store is neat as a pin when I first check it out, early in the season. After a few days or weeks, it shows signs of wear and tear. Customers feel right at home, opening dozens of packages to check fit… and sometimes leaving the merchandise on the floor or worse. Many disregard closing times and even personal space, marching comfortably into storage rooms and the back office ich bin du, as if they were visiting their brother-in-law. There are not enough staff members or hours in the day to pick up after people, and thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise is ruined each year.

It’s a byproduct of the kind of vibe the family atmosphere encourages, inspired by the unassuming manner and jovial approach of the store, the merchandise, and the proprietors. Yossi squirms a little when I ask about it, insisting, “That’s part of our job, to smile and say thank you and pick up after people and put it away and say baruch Hashem they’re here.”

Eventually, he does admit he wishes people would respect the facility as much as their own homes, or a full-time store.

A while later, I circle back to Menachem and ask again what he considers his contribution toward the success of Costume Closeouts.

“I told you, I’m the macher.”

No Clowning Around

The Hirschmans disagree with the premise that people are playing pretend. “I’ve never had a fifteen-year-old girl want to be a kallah,” Rivka says. Yes, the little girls all want to be kallahs and princesses and the little boys all want to be policemen and firemen. But the older girls love to be creative and make their own costumes. Older boys are creative as well, mixing and matching (or clashing) various items.

If you would expect a costume superstore to be driving up prices, pushing the bar higher, setting new heights in standards, you might be right, but not here. It’s just not who the Hirschmans are. “If I didn’t have a store, I would go to a gemach,” Rivka says. “I can’t believe the things people want to buy and the prices they are willing to pay.

“Years ago, we prided ourselves on keeping the price of all costumes under $25. Now we bring in higher-priced items to keep up with the demand, but still have the basics for basic prices.”

“It takes all types,” Yossi says. “Some people buy kallah gowns like they’re going to the chuppah in it. And then there was the customer that came in asking for a doggie costume. Not for kids to dress up as a dog, but for the family dog to dress up.”

But the nature of the store is one that celebrates the purity of simpler times. Even though there is a demand for higher-end outfits, they won’t sell even elite units like full-body adult mascot suits for more than $65.

“My favorite ‘sale’ was a person who came in years ago, all embarrassed, asking for a cardboard box,” Mrs. Hirschman remembers. “She was making a costume out of it. My husband couldn’t get enough nachas. He said, ‘Look, you don’t have to buy a costume. You can create it out of a box!’ He made the customer feel so good!”

Yossi’s favorite costume was a shirt he made for himself that said, “World’s Best Zeidy,” with candies stuck on. See what I mean?

Age-Appropriate

It’s all fun and games, until someone gets serious.

You would think costumes, shtick, and Purim fun would be free of hashkafic hock and partisan politics. You’d be laughably wrong, but the Hirschman family has done a fascinating job of staying above and out of it.

Costuming is an intensely personal experience, driving people’s individual expression, creativity, and competition. But for all that individualism, there’s always a group standard in the frum world, and people get nervous that they might be stepping outside of the bounds of their peer class.

Many try to get their sense of the in-vogue groupthink from the store. As the Purim experts, the family is consulted by people looking for advice on a wide range of Purim questions, from, “What does my kid want to be for Purim?” (well, tell me a little about him) to, “Say I want to dress up like the olden days, what did people wear three hundred years ago?” (can you be more specific), and “Can we use your store for a photo shoot to make Purim labels?”

“We’re not your poskim or rav,” the Hirschmans say. “Ask your moreh hora’ah if you have questions about the type of costume or accessories that are appropriate for you or the age of your children. Don’t assume that if we sell it, there’s a crowdsourced hechsher based on ‘that’s what the oilam is doing.’ ”

It might be what some of the oilam is doing — but not necessarily your oilam. “We cater to everyone,” Yossi quips. “We sell beketshes to the Litvaks and frocks to the chassidim.”

It sounds like a lot of complexity for something meant to be simple and fun, but with his easy manner, Yossi restores the simplicity. “It’s a fun store to hang out in,” he grins. “Kids, parents, teens… there’s a jolly atmosphere here all day. It’s a great place to be.” As much as they might deny it, that vibe is generated by the infectiously relaxed, cheerful imprint Yossi and his family bring to work every day.

Mix and Match

One of the Hirschmans’ married sons, having concluded his participation in the operation for the day, is relaxing on, and in the shadow of, several towers of cardboard cartons. Like his parents, he takes a cheerful side glance at the whole business, enjoying the fun parts and shrugging off any stress.

One design they were sure would be a hit sold almost nothing at all the year it was introduced. But Purim teaches us to have emunah in Hashem’s long-term plan, right? Mrs. Hirschman planned to just give them away for cheap or free the following year, but come next season and everyone was asking for it! Apparently, people came to shop the first year with a specific idea in mind, noticed the new costume, and said, “Oh, that’s cute. Maybe for next year.”

Some people come to the shop looking for quick solutions, an all-in-one complete costume that spares them time and effort. But most customers bring their own creative flair. They’ll have half-formed ideas, looking for pieces to make it come together. Or they have no ideas at all, but leave full.

“Many people mix and match, picking up little bits here and there for their own designs,” Mrs. Hirschman says. “I have a neighbor that I knew shopped only in my store, but I didn’t recognize anything her kids were wearing on Purim. She later told me she had put it together from pieces she found on our two-dollar rack.”

“I’m always amazed at what people come up with,” Mrs. Hirschman reflects. “I love to watch people create costumes I can’t recognize from various parts of the store. Did you know that a colonial girl’s dress with a braided wig can become a shtetl girl matching the theme of her brothers wearing ivy caps, knickers, and vests?”

The Hirschmans don’t have a favorite costume. There are so many expressions to Jewish creativity, making it impossible to pick. From kids dressed up as accurate representations of famous gadol pictures to impossibly large creations involving hoops, wire frames, and inflatables, entire scenes you can wear, and abstract concepts made on Cricut machines, there’s no end to the ideas.

Everyone has their own special part of Purim. What is it for the Purim People themselves? They love driving around Lakewood, spotting their costumes in action. A whole class of bunnies charging as if straight from the rabbit aisle to their teacher’s house, a car full of clowns, or a little boy in their firefighter outfit. This is their nachas.

If You Don’t Want It, Don’t Buy It

Shtick versus bombs: How much explosive, loud, smelly shtick is too much? Costume Closeouts will sell shtick and noisemakers that don’t need a flame. Come get your string-pulls, disappearing ink, bomb bags, and mega-snappers, but don’t expect M-150s.

Tzniyus: Costumes are limited to those that follow tzniyus themes or concepts. Of course, actual tzniyus depends on the fit for the person wearing it. “Ask your rav until what age your daughter can wear a costume with pants.”

Packaging: The Hirschmans go to great lengths to cover and edit images on packaging. Innocent items like gloves, wigs, or hats manufactured by secular companies can have surprising images on the packaging. Some inserts need to be removed completely; others can be managed with labels or strategically placed price tags.

Israel and the Arabs: The most blowback has been triggered by seemingly innocuous items like IDF uniforms, and conversely, Arab costumes. There was also a tumult over fake cigarettes. Everyone has their own sensitivities. “If you don’t want your kids wearing it or using it, don’t buy it,” says Mrs. Hirschman. “We sell cap guns, but my kids know we don’t use them.”

Shatnez: The family has become somewhat expert on shatnez, having asked many sh’eilos over the years about various costume parts or accessories that may contain a mix of wool and linen. “Some costumes have a decorative fuzz derived from wool,” Rivka explains. “Others have crushed fibers. There’s a range of shitos — ask your sh’eilos.”

Tzitzis: Some costumes, like the sefer Torah outfit, or a Mexican poncho, may sneak four corners on you. The Hirschmans will let you know that there may be a sh’eilah — ask your own rav.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1101)