Keeping up with the Cohens: Would you spend £250,000 on a simchah?

Anna began dreaming of her bat mitzvah when she was seven. “She wanted the works,” her mother Sarah recalls. “A DJ, dancers, her name in lights, branded hoodies, candy stations – everything her cousins had.” But there was one problem: Sarah couldn’t afford it. “I didn’t know how to explain to her that our budget didn’t stretch that far.” And the mum of three knew that if she went big for Anna, the expectation would be there for her other children.

For Jenny, a single working mother, the pressure wasn’t just about planning her son’s bar mitzvah – it was the price of attending everyone else’s. “That year, he was invited to over 30 parties. Thirty gifts. At £20 to £50 a pop, it added up fast.”

Yet both Sarah and Jenny felt the same pull: the desire to give their children bnei mitzvahs to remember and parties that stood up to the expectations of friendship groups. “They’re at such a pivotal age, just starting to form their social circles,” Jenny says. “You don’t want them to miss out, even though by the time they’re 14, those friendships might look completely different.”

Jewish life is marked by milestones that have been celebrated for millennia, but in some circles, the pressure to put on a big simchah can overshadow the occasion. Bruce had to cancel his daughter’s bat mitzvah 17 years ago when he filed for bankruptcy, and now he finds himself having sleepless nights about her wedding next year. “I do not want to spend my retirement savings on a few hours of our life,” he says.

But for others, the memories are priceless. “It’s one day, but the photos will last a lifetime,” says mother of two, Jessica. Her first daughter’s celebration was in her garden. By the time the marquee was up – with lighting, heating, carpets, chairs for 150 guests, kosher catering, music, and outfits, the invoices mounted. “I stopped counting at £50,000,” Jessica admits.

For her second child’s celebration, she opted for a venue in north London. But the result was a similar total. “I thought I’d do it for less, but you have to dress four women for two events, then there are the hairdressers, the nails – because it’s a special occasion – and suddenly the costs pile up. It’s all the little things.”

Even the Shabbat dinner for 40 family members turned out to be pricier than expected. Jessica made everything herself, but a trip to the butcher, high-quality ingredients, and hiring a waitress for the evening added up to over £500.

Despite the expense, “I realise it’s a fortune”, Jessica insists she never spends beyond her means. “I’d never take out a loan. I’d love to spend half of what we did, but I don’t think it would be possible.” And she considers their celebrations modest compared to others. “We went without a dance floor with a personalised logo, no themed tableware, no branded t-shirts. Others have much more extravagant parties.” She notes the pressure to keep up. “There’s definitely some one-upmanship,” she says. “People are trying to outdo each other with bigger and better events.” Her family skipped holidays in their simchah years.

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The politics of invitations can be tricky. Inviting an entire class or year is often unrealistic, but children feel their guest lists can make or break their friendships. Jessica’s daughters struggled with this when starting high school, “We made the guest list in the summer, but by November it was totally different,” she recalls.

It can be easier for those whose celebrations happen a year later, but there are still challenges. Jenny was glad her popular son was invited to many bnei mitzvahs, but the cost added up for the working mother. “Every time he came home with another invite, my heart sank.”

“Gone are the days of fountain pens and books,” says Jenny. “Now, you give the cost of your place at the party, like it’s a wedding.” She would never let people think she could not afford gifts, “the food shop would just have to be less that week.”

For her son’s “budget” party, which cost £5k, he received £5k in gifts. “I told him that he couldn’t spend the money until he was 18 and I would keep it safe. But I needed it to pay for the cost of the party.”

The “best friend speech” is another challenge, Jenny notes, explaining that children asked to give a speech are expected to exchange an additional gift. “It’s time, organisation to get them to write the speeches, and then more money on gifts, and these are kids they might not be friends with for very long.”

Naomi, who threw a themed bar mitzvah in central London with all the trimmings – and would not disclose how much she spent – sees it differently. “I hope that by the time these boys get married, a similar group who did their best friend’s speech are their best men”. The nine personalised hoodies in her son’s cupboard, each collected from a speech, are treasured.

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Naomi reduced her hours at work so she could devote time to planning her son’s simchah. “I spent about three hours a day for the year before the bar mitzvah on the planning,” A keen DIY-er, she says: “I have no idea how someone who works full time can stay on top of the organising. If I hadn’t reduced my hours, we would have spent a lot more because I wouldn’t have had time to find the best deals with different suppliers.”

Although some bnei mitzvahs mount into tens, if not hundreds, of thousands, there are ways of doing it for less. For families like Kimberley’s, doing things on a tighter budget is a necessity. With £2k to spend on her son’s bar mitzvah, she hosted a simple, memorable celebration. “If I had more money, I’d have spent it, but I worked with what I had,” she says. A Syrian refugee catered a vegetarian feast in the (Liberal) synagogue hall, an excellent klezmer band provided music for £600, and she stocked up on Aldi wine. “By all accounts, it was a fantastic party.”

But a word of warning. While Cyndy, another mother of two, spent just a few thousand pounds on her daughter’s simchah, years later she regrets some of her budget decisions. “We went without a photographer, and I wish I had professional pictures,” she says. A few other hiccups – a caterer who left plastic wrap on the food and her decision not to splurge on a new dress – still irk her. “At the time I was focused on saving money, and told myself it’s just a party for a kid. But now, I feel there’s nothing better than throwing a party if you can afford it. We should invest more in joyful memories.”

If the financial stakes of bnei mitzvahs worry parents, keeping up with the Cohens during wedding season can be even more pricey, with some families going into debt to maintain tradition. Mother of two, Coral, saw this coming the moment her second daughter was born. “My husband must have aged a decade when he realised we’d be making two weddings.”

The family opened savings accounts for two separate weddings. “We had our living money, and we had our wedding savings. We weren’t wealthy by any stretch, but we made it work by being careful.” That discipline paid off when Coral’s daughters got engaged just six months apart. “I can’t say we didn’t breathe a sigh of relief that we’d been planning for this moment.”

Still, the reality was more complex than Coral had anticipated. For her eldest daughter’s central London simchah, Coral and her husband laid out their budget on a spreadsheet, determined to stay within their means. But with a venue, caterers, and countless add-ons like a tisch room and a getting-ready suite, the final total came to between £50 and £60k – more than they’d planned.

While the bride and groom were in no position to contribute, Coral felt the weight of making her daughter’s dream a reality. “She wanted to be a princess for the day, and we wanted to give that to her.” Despite the cost, Coral felt their “no frills” wedding paled in comparison to others she has been to. “These days, simchahs push £100k. Ours was nice, but in contrast, it looked stark. We didn’t have balloons, or floral arches or elaborate installations. It was unsophisticated.” The groom’s family, who live in a large home with a significantly higher income than Coral’s, made a “notional” contribution. “The whole dynamic was incredibly tense,” she says, adding that months after the wedding, she’s still waiting for a thank you. For her second daughter’s wedding, Coral is relieved to be splitting the cost with the other family. “It changes everything,” she says.

Coral’s daughter is expecting her first child, and the wedding gifts will go towards decorating the nursery. Alongside the cake mixers and crockery, honeymoon experiences and cash contributions have become increasingly customary. In Israel, it is routine to find an ATM next to the wedding bar with a box of blank envelopes for guests to gift accordingly.

For some, handing over money can feel impersonal. “My aunt thinks it’s disrespectful,” says Coral. “She wants something tangible, but my daughter just wants to build her life.”

Rachel, whose son is about to be engaged, agrees, “Everything is so expensive nowadays, young people just want to start their lives, and money is the most use.” But she still prefers a set of prayer books for her son’s friends.

Rachel, whose son is set to be engaged in January and married within six months, is already having sleepless nights about how she will pay for the celebrations and has started cutting back on the amount she gives at other weddings. “The cost of some of the engagement parties we have been to must be more than we will be able to afford for a wedding,” she says, explaining her son would not want a “flashy event”, “but even a modest wedding doesn’t come cheap.” With no savings to draw on and just £174 in her account, Rachel is scrambling for options. “I’ve already sold my wedding dinner set on eBay for £300 but it’s a drop in the ocean compared to what we’ll need.” She is seeking advice from a financial planner about taking out a loan. “Should I remortgage the house? Take out a loan? Buy a lottery ticket? I’ve never borrowed money before, but I might not have a choice.” She regularly enters the Heart FM Radio “Show Me the Money” jackpot, which, she says, would solve all her problems.

“I should’ve started saving years ago, but there was never enough left to put aside. Now, I’m telling my kids to save, save, save. My parents never had that conversation with me.” Rachel is hopeful that in the end, it will work itself out. “I keep telling myself ani ma’amin – God only gives us what we can handle. By this time next year, my son will be happily married. I’m just not sure of the route to get there.”

The anticipated cost from her side alone is upwards of £30,000, covering a hall large enough for a mechitzah, kosher catering for 150, and clothing for the family. She realises now why so many head to Israel to get married: “the catering would be so much less,” but notes that she could never afford to travel abroad for a friend’s wedding. Indeed, there aren’t many cheap options for Orthodox families, where guest lists are long and kosher catering means price-per-head is high.

But speak to those who had the money to spend, and they are unlikely to regret it. Lisa’s wedding didn’t see much change from £250k. In her late 30s, with a City career, she is proud that she could afford her outer London event for several hundred guests.

“We had a wedding planner who offered up a world of possibilities. They had all the extras, videography, personalised cocktail menus, several different meals, the most amazing flowers, and a suite of bridal accommodation.”

A different wedding planner notes £250k is “quite standard” for a central London event, but it can go much higher. A top venue in London edges above £20k, while kosher catering for 250 guests can easily add up to £70k. Additional costs, like the wedding dress and the band tip the total over £100k and some flower arrangements might cost more than entire wedding budgets.

Despite her “truly spectacular wedding,” Lisa thinks her simchah was less extravagant than others in her circle. She has travelled to America, Israel, Italy and Australia for friends’ weddings and, while she loves the lavish parties, she notes, “I enjoyed the wedding in a field in Somerset just as much as the Californian vineyard.”  Having not had a bat mitzvah, Lisa’s wedding was her first big life event. “Why would I want my parents to pay for that?” she says, adding that her £9k wedding dress from a London designer was worth every penny – although that was one part of the wedding for which her family footed the bill.

Sarah, whose daughter Anna had her bat mitzvah last year in a second-hand dress, notes, “now we’ve done that, we’re off the hook for the wedding.” Anna, however, and others like her, might have other ideas. Yes, simchah traditions are evolving. But when it comes to their Big Day, many brides- and grooms-to-be still expect Mum and Dad to pay.  t