Rachel Levy Lesser - Lifes Accessories: A Memoir (and Fashion Guide)

Praise for Lifes Accessories

In Rachel Levy Lessers episodic memoir, worn talismans give her the strength to claim her voice, weather grief, and navigate a rich and full life. With writing reminiscent of Ilene Beckermans classic Love, Loss, and What I Wore, Lesser captures the pressures and pleasures of a new generation of women as her warmth and wisdom shine through.

A NDREA J ARRELL , author of Im the One Who Got Away: A Memoir

Lifes Accessories is a poignant story told through the universal language of stuff. Rachel uses meaningful items from her past to weave together stories that made her into the wife, mother, and daughter she is today. From perms to summer camp, post-baby weight loss to making mom friends, Rachel paints a relatable, compelling picture of her highs and lows, and beautifully writes about the loss of her mother. Lifes Accessories is this seasons must-have accessory for your best girlfriends bedside table.

Z IBBY O WENS , writer and creator/host of the podcast Moms Dont Have Time to Read Books

I literally could not put this book down. I fell in love with Rachel on page one, and by the last chapter I was convinced she was my long lost BFF. She writes with humor and grace, and takes us on her lifes journey with vulnerability and wit. Its a winning combo! Rachel is as real and authentic as it comes. Wish we could be mom friends in real life!

A LI K ATZ , author of One Minute to Zen

Lifes Accessories is a charming and deeply relatable exploration of the power inanimate objectsclothing and accessorieshave to remind us of who we are and of where we came from. Lesser imbues each anecdote, centered on a piece of clothing, jewelry, or accessory, with humor, wisdom, and memory. She excavates her own personal history through particular objects in her closet, and makes the personal universal. I laughed, I cried, I nodded vigorously in agreement as I read. I loved this book.

L INDSEY M EAD , writer and editor of On Being 40(ish)

Often our memories of those we have lost are mere glimpses and images of the past and our time with that person. In Lifes Accessories, Rachel Levy Lesser honors us with the privilege of those glimpses and images through the beautiful window of her words. You will laugh, cry, and sit with the words of wisdom that Rachel shares. Her gift of storytelling will find you reflecting on the accessories you carry with the memories of those you have loved and lost.

D ARCY W ALKER K RAUSE , Director, Uplift Center for Grieving Children

Lifes Accessories cleverly uses articles of clothing and jewelry to shape the story of the authors life. Lessers stories are relatable and accessible. Reading her memoir is like sifting through a closet with a friend, stopping to pause over certain items and remembering why they meant so much in the first place. She artfully reminds us how even just thinking about an object can immediately transport us right back to a moment in time.

B ETH R ICANATI , physician and author of Braided: A Journey of a Thousand Challahs

A thoroughly enjoyable read from an author who immediately feels like your best friend as she grabs your arm and reveals stories equally lighthearted and tender about motherhood, family, love, loss, and friendship.

M ARISA B ARDACH R AMEL , author of The Goodbye Diaries: A Mother-Daughter Memoir

In fluid, engaging prose, Rachel Levy Lesser draws readers into her episodic coming-of-age story, from prep school student to mature mother and writeraccessorized charmingly throughout by symbolic talismans. Though grieving for her lost mother, she exudes a palpable joie de vivre, attracting a lively coterie, including us who read, as Best Friends Forever.

P AULA D EITZ , editor of The Hudson Review

Lifes Accessories

Copyright 2019, Rachel Levy Lesser

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

Published 2019

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-1-63152-622-0

ISBN:. 978-1-63152-623-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019906554

For information, address:

She Writes Press

1569 Solano Ave #546

Berkeley, CA 94707

Interior design by Tabitha Lahr

She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

Names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of certain individuals.

For Neil. Ive loved growing together with you.

E ighth grade really sucked. I know it probably sucked a little bit for a lot of people, but Im going to say for me, it sucked more. I was perfectly content in my seventh-grade existence at my little Quaker school, Newtown Friends School, in suburban Philadelphia. I had been at the little school since kindergarten. When my mothers friends asked her about her decision to send her two Jewish kids to a Quaker school in the farmlands part of suburban Philadelphia, she used to say, They just feel good about themselves when they go to school every day.

Although this sounded super Kumbaya-ish and maybe a bit hard to believe, it was true. I liked going to Newtown Friends School. I did feel good about myself and comfortable in my own skin there. The school was so small that you had to be friends with everyone in your grade, and they had to be friends with you too. As the song goes (kind of), I dont know much about history or biology or the French I took, but I do know that I was happyuntil eighth grade, that is.

My father, uncle, brother, and older cousins had all attended the Lawrenceville School, a traditional all-boys prep school in New Jersey, just five miles down the road from Princeton University. Lawrenceville was exactly like youd imagine any school called the [insert name of East Coast small town] School would be. It was Dead Poets Society, A Separate Peace, and School Ties all wrapped into one. Lawrenceville broke its 177-year-old tradition of accepting only boys in 1987, which just happened to be the year I was entering eighth grade.

I dont remember the application process. I dont remember a conversation with my parents about whether I should stay or leave my small, utopian Quaker school for the big, unknown prep school. I just remember feeling like an alien from the very first day I stepped onto Lawrencevilles campus. All of the other newly admitted girls looked alike and appeared to know what they were doing. They had been prepped for prep school. Most of them had blond hair, all of them had straight hair, and they wore long skirts from Laura Ashley and turtlenecks from J.Crew every day to class. A decent percentage of them went by nicknamed versions of Elizabeth, Katherine, or Marylots of Lizzies, Kates, and Mollys, and also a few Betsys, Kats, and Mimis. The boys had names like Hunter, Trevor, and Tripp. The Tripps were actually triples, as in the IIIs, as in Thurston Howell the third.