Gazing into the polished mirror, happily noting her shapely arms and legs, Dona Elsa was brought back to that Purim Eve when she was still Elkele, the cooper’s “pretty little doll.” That was the Purim when the young folks decided to act “modern” – they held a Purim ball with masks, notes from secret admirers, and the crowning of a Queen Esther.

Spring was in the air, but that day felt like half-winter, half-summer. The dawn still brought a light frost, which would soon be turned into a layer of slush by the morning sun. At dusk, the market square froze again and the paths became icy, but the crowd still flocked to the firefighter’s barn, which had been transformed into a “palace” in just a few hours. Shiny paper hung from the scraped, bare walls and shimmered with many colors. Interwoven paper chains zigzagged along the ceiling, and the light from the rounded cardboard lamps cast a magical mosaic all around.

The shtetl’s music ensemble, in clown hats and Cossack trousers with red lampasses, spent a long time tuning their worn instruments. The trombone blew wildly, the saxophone squeaked and the clarinet whistled – and the massive drum drowned them all out.

The journeymen tailors, most of them in tight pants, close-fitting tailcoats, tall top hats, and a monocle on one eye, made themselves out to be “lords.” The young craftswomen went as princesses, in colorful cretonne and dresses with trains, with crowns on their heads. The wealthier ones were even dressed as beggars and junk dealers – some went so far as to dress up as chimney sweeps. And all of them wore masks.

Only she, Elkele, was dressed as a gypsy. ^{7 7} Palatnik uses the term tsigayner(in), the common Yiddish word for a member of the Romani people (pejoratively referred to as “gypsies” in English). In this translation, “gypsy” is retained to reflect the historical context of early 20th-century Poland, though today in English it is regarded as outdated and offensive. At the time, a costume such as Elke’s evoked a range of associations – wandering, poverty, exotic otherness, and low social status – often projected onto Romani people and, in certain contexts, onto Jews in Eastern Europe as well. See Carol Silverman, “Gypsy/Klezmer Dialectics: Jewish and Romani Traces and Erasures in Contemporary European World Music,” Ethnomusicology Forum 24, no. 2, 2015, 159–180. Romani women, in particular, were often stereotyped in European and Eastern European literature as exotic, alluring, and mysterious, embodying an ambivalent, a kind of idealized yet marginalized beauty. See Rafaela Eulberg, “Doing Gender and Doing Gypsy: Zum Verhältnis der Konstruktion von Geschlecht und Ethnie,” in Antiziganistische Zustände: Zur Kritik eines allgegenwärtigen Ressentiments, ed. Markus End, Kathrin Herold, Yvonne Robel (Münster: Unrast, 2009), 41–66. She’d turned an old red throw into a wide skirt, and her mother’s lashtshene ^{8 8} A Jewish tradition marking the end of a wedding celebration. -dress was now a light blouse. To this were added several beaded necklaces, a deck of cards, and a black mask. Seeing her so tall and full of grace, the crowd broke into thundering applause. “Hurrah! Hurrah!” they cheered, as if a queen had appeared before them.

Elkele, the cooper’s “pretty little doll“ may have been the poorest girl in the town, working hard at the seamstress Hodesl for a meager piece of bread. But she was blessed with natural beauty – that’s why they called her “pretty little doll“.

The mood at the barn was jolly. First the ensemble played Shoshanas Yaakov, ^{9 9}Shoshanat Yaakov is an old, anonymous liturgical poem traditionally sung in Ashkenazi communities after the reading of the Megillat Esther on Purim, both in the evening and during the day. On the evening of Purim, usually only the final lines, beginning with “Shoshanat Yaakov,” are sung. There are multiple traditional melodies and musical interpretations of the text performed as Purim songs; some of these can be found at the National Library of Israel (see “Shoshanat Yaakov,” National Library of Israel, accessed March 12, 2025). then they moved on to folk tunes. Through the open windows, the songs traveled to the fields and meadows, echoing back: “To be a Jew is precious, to be a Jew is good – I will shout it until I die“. People danced to Dos pintele yid, ^{10 10}Dos Pintele Yid is a Yiddish song with lyrics by Louis Gilrod (1879–1930) and music by Arnold Perlmutter (1859–1953) and Herman Wohl (1877–1936). It was published by the Hebrew Publishing Company in New York in 1909. Dos pintele yid is also a play by Tomashevsky, named after the title song, that premiered in 1909. See “Dos Pintele Yid,” Yiddish Songs, accessed March 12, 2025. to Khinke-pinke, ^{11 11}Khinke Pinke, oder Gavriel der Moler was a popular shund play by Joseph Latayner (1853-1935). The sheet music for the overture can be found in the online collections of the Center for Jewish History. to Akeydes-Yitskhok ^{12 12} A popular theme for Purim-shpiln (Purim plays) was Akeydes Yitskhok (The Binding of Isaac), based on the biblical story in Genesis 22:1–19. More information about this play and other popular Purim plays from the collection of Moisei Beregovskii (1892-1961))—gathered during his field research in southern Ukraine between 1936 and 1939—can be found here. Fragments of Purim-shpiln recorded by Beregovskii, including excerpts from Akeydes Yitskhok, are available online at the Institute for Information Recording, Vernadsky National Library of Ukraine. One volume of the Beregovskii collection is dedicated to Purim plays: Moisei Beregovskii, Purim-shpil: Evreiskie narodnye muzykalʹno-teatralʹnye predstavleniia (Kiev: Dukh i litera, 2001). – very Jewishly.

The masked guests whispered amongst themselves, guessing who was who. Secret love letters went around, their recipients announced by the number they were wearing. At the end, the masks came off: a special jury would be choosing the match for Queen Esther’s beauty.

And then – Elkele revealed her face. Her radiant eyes sparkled like amber set in silver. Two long, black braids, twisted into gypsy-style coils, cascaded over her white décolleté like gleaming velvet on pure alabaster. Her legs were long as a doe’s, and her hands like carved ivory. No, no one could compete with Elkele, the poor cooper’s girl. She became the Purim Queen of the shtetl.

But now, looking at herself in the mirror, Elkele could only see her withering beauty, and the difficult, winding, up-and-down paths she had walked in the years since appeared before her eyes…all those wanderings and changes on the way to Brazil. Such a hard, long road. In the end, she’d married here, become rich, and came to be known as Dona Elsa. And today she already had a grown-up daughter preparing for a Purim ball. It was the preparations that had gotten Dona Elsa thinking. Back then, her gypsy costume was ready in just a few hours. Her daughter’s costume, however, had already been two months in the making.

Dona Elsa knew that her dear daughter Leyele, called “Lindina” (beauty), was no linda. The young girl had inherited her watery eyes, an elongated masculine face, with dark, thinning, straw-like hair from her father. She was of unremarkable height, her hands and feet short and sturdy, and a waist that could have been slimmer. But her parents had decided to give it a try. After all, they were in Brazil, where honorable, rich men lived in palaces…and they knew their daughter dreamed in secret, as every girl does… She was desperate to be the “Queen Esther” of the next Purim baile.

During one of these hushed conversations, Dona Elsa whispered in her husband’s ear: “Pedro dear, maybe let’s let it go? If not, well – the child may, God forbid…kill herself.”

Senhor Pedro let out a crude laugh, and with the irony of someone who knows the power of wealth, he said: “Now come on, woman! She won’t need to commit suicide! You get what you pay for!“

First: a dress of the finest lamé gold was commissioned from the most expensive dressmaker. Then: pointed-toe high-heeled shoes of the same golden material. And a little woven bag of pure gold. The master hairdresser styled her brittle, stringy hair into luscious waves. Her small eyes grew large and shiny from special drops. Light-purple accents and dark-silver shades animated her eyes with their sparse lashes, transforming her whole face. Real pearls shone upon her bony chest. Her face, so long and masculine, had been smoothed out and made up in the best beauty parlor: now the beanpole had become a pretty doll.

On Purim night, there was no frost. Instead, a magnificent starry sky shone with a full moon that looked as though it, too, had just left the beauty parlor – a doll herself. The youth club salon was decorated with hundreds of lampshades, candelabras and spotlights, with rays of light dancing on the walls like miniature suns. Brightly polished mirrors amplified the light, making the decked-out hall feel larger and more expansive.

The first-rate orchestra struck up samba waltzes, then rock n’ roll. Young people danced and sang along. The singing carried through the large windows into the flower garden: “Mamãe eu quero! Mamãe eu quero!...” (Mommy, I want it). ^{13 13}Mamãe eu quero is a famous Brazilian song composed by Vicente Paiva and Jararaca in 1937. The song gained international fame in 1940 through the Technicolor film Down Argentine Way, featuring the celebrated Portuguese-Brazilian performer Carmen Miranda. See the following Youtube video.

There was Lindina, in her fine-tuned outfit, elevated on high heels, slimmed by a corset, seeming majestic, graceful – even haughty. Dona Elsa, bedecked in black velvet, hair beautifully coiffed, a narrow waist and impressively large eyes – here was the real competition. And Senhor Pedro, in a black tailcoat, with pomaded hair and a long face, was the spitting image of his daughter.

Lindina’s appearance prompted a stormy ovation, though people could hardly see her; they saw only mounds of gold… gold, gold and even more gold. The wealthiest and most elegant young men immediately asked her to dance. Her lamé dress was a golden balloon, her shoes, handbag and large golden bracelets sparkled all over the salon like artificial flames, spinning like golden wheels, shimmering, glistening, dazzling and blinding. The jury’s decision was quick and unanimous: Senhorita Lindina was this year’s Purim Queen. The attendees applauded: “Hurrah! Hurrah! Bravo, bravissimo!” Just like back then, for her mother in the shtetl.

On the way home, the parents showered their crowned queen with even more affection. Husband and wife beamed at each other. Senhor Pedro’s eyes glittered triumphantly as he turned to his wife.

“Ha! So, Elke dear? What do you say now? You still think she’d do herself in?”