At A ‘sinners’ Shabbat’ In Brooklyn, The Faithful Gather For Fire Massages And Human Sushi Platters

When I arrived at the Brooklyn nightclub, a greeter checked my outfit. “Those jeans are black, not blue, right?” she asked. “Right,” I promised. For tonight’s “Sinners’ Shabbat” event, we were instructed to dress in “fetishwear,” but I’m a fuddy-duddy Long Island girl whose only fetish is being attracted to men. Thankfully, the greeter didn’t seem to mind, or notice, my decidedly un-kinky Kate Spade loafers.

I waded into a sea of leather, lace and fishnets. Here, at The House on Locust Street, across the street from a Satmar Hasidic matzah bakery, everyone seemed to be wearing black save for a woman named Jess who told me she bought her blue-and-white tallit on Amazon. People were eating vegan sushi off the scantily clad body of someone named Chelsea who learned about this opportunity on Instagram. “I’ve never been a human platter,” she told me.

Drag queen Alvah Klempt lip-synced various pop songs, throwing in words like “shul,” “Torah,” and “praying to Hashem.” Klempt, whose high heels and ample wig must have put her at well over six feet tall, had the perfect tagline for this whole event, possibly inspired by a fellow Jewish drag queen: “Shabbat sha-BLAM!”

The hundred-or-so people gathered here were observing “Sinners Shabbat,” a bimonthly event boasting burlesque acts and yuppie-friendly cuisine. Tova Sterling, the 27-year-old private chef and Instagram influencer who is the face of this event, wore a full-length fur coat and a black leotard she said belonged to her mom in the 80s. Last month, when I interviewed her for this story, Sterling told me she was inspired to launch Sinners’ Shabbat last year after being rejected from traditional Jewish spaces.

She said she had gone to an event for young professionals. “My only friend who wanted to go was a findom, which is a financial dominatrix,” she said. But, she added, it seemed only some types of “professionals” were welcome at the event. “I got an email afterward being like, ‘we would love for you to respect the boundaries of what this event was supposed to be. You’re no longer welcome.’ I’d already been getting the energy that some of the things I was saying were too edgy.”

Many of the attendees I spoke with said they had watched Sterling’s videos on Instagram, where she appears at turns as a dangerously insecure girlfriend and aspiring trophy wife, and her posts generally fall into one of a few categories: delivering off-kilter New York City dating advice for finding “upper middle-class men,” clapping back at antisemitism and, in one case, hawking her 30-year-old brother Noah off to women who “forget to take their Lexapro.” Noah, who produced the event, was also on the scene, wearing hoop earrings and a sparkly black blazer and walking around authoritatively as if surveying his kingdom. Like many of the people I talked to at Sinners’ Shabbat, both siblings grew up in an Orthodox community before becoming less religious.

Sinners’ Shabbat is just one example in a new trend of what JTA has called “swanky” Shabbat dinners — secular Friday night meals, sometimes organized by social media influencers, that court Jewish New Yorkers. But as far as Jewish events go, Sinners’ Shabbat might have more in common with the annual House of Yes Purim party — where party-goers get “shitfaced” at an event in the same neighborhood — than with anything happening in SoHo or on the Upper West Side. Some of these events are invite-only. Sinners’ Shabbat is open to the public, but an all-inclusive pass will set you back: The most expensive ticket costs $58.

As the self-described “sinners” drank beverages like “Sabbath spice cocktails” ($17) and “l’chaim shots” ($7), most of the people I talked to insisted that I refrain from using their last name or identifying their workplace.

Tzvi, who came here with his wife, said this was the first time he ever wore makeup. “Let me be frank: I’m painfully straight,” Tzvi said. “We’re in the poly community, the identifiably Jewish community, the Brooklyn/Lower Manhattan community — it just came together. Also, my therapist told me to come here, and she’s here.” In what was possibly the biggest mistake of my journalistic career, I failed to track down and interview Tzvi’s therapist.

Some of the people here came with their partners; others came looking for Jews to date. Others yet may have been doing both. Brian,  wearing temporary tattoos and a fishnet shirt he got for this event, told me he was looking for a girl, then introduced me to his friend.

“Are you going to try to do anything fun just to make the story a little spicy?” the friend asked.

“I don’t have anything in mind,” I replied, “but if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”

Performances by Klempt and her peers soon gave way to something kinkier. On the stage, a woman tied up another woman with rope. Though the event’s organizers sent out an email before the event cautioning that “undergarments must stay on,” it was unclear here what constituted an undergarment, and when the rope-tier’s nipples fell out of her deep V-neck — pasty-free — it was a hot minute before she reinserted them.

Still, no performance was hotter than that of the fire performers, who lit what looked like a cotton ball on fire and seemed to massage each other with it, then handed out marshmallows on sticks. In one of too many Sabbath desecrations to count, I took one, roasted it in a fire that had somehow been lit on top of a performer’s chest and ate it. Soon, the fire masseuses took volunteers from the audience and gave them free fire massages. Brian, the guy who told me he was looking for a girl, told me he had identified something I could do to spice up my story —  get a fire massage.

But the black tea with honey I drank before the party was starting to wear off, and eating a charred marshmallow was the spiciest gesture I felt willing to undertake. I told Brian to get his own fire massage instead of me.

A few minutes later, he was dancing with another girl, and I went upstairs to indulge in my own brand of debauchery as I picked at the remainder of the tofu sushi with my fingers.

Just as Hashem intended.

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