Jess 4.0 Glitter & Grapes
Presented by The Valley Edit Atelier
A new era doesn’t just begin —
it kicks the door open in heels.
You’re not just invited.
Your name is inked on the list,
underlined, and circled in lipstick.
Cue the decadence.
Cue the diamond dice.
Cue the champagne-fueled chaos
and stories you definitely can’t repeat
This is a 40th rewritten in
sequins and stemware.
The brief?
Go bigger. Stay later. Sparkle harder.
Weekend Line-up
Friday 27 to Sunday 29 March 2026
Beginning with dinner Friday and
finishing with brunch Sunday.
Further details to be released soon.
The Glitter & Grapes Climax
Saturday 28 March 2026
5pm ‘til late · Pokolbin
And the attire?
Red. Black. Sparkle.
If it doesn’t catch the light, it stays home.
#glitterngrapes
The journey begins
She doesn’t walk in—she makes an entrance. Glitter still clings from the night before (or was it this morning?), and the villa seems to straighten its posture as she passes. Stone walls blush in the sun, and somewhere, a champagne cocktail fizzes in approval.
She’s not alone, of course. This weekend isn’t just hers—it’s yours, too. You, the inner circle. The co-conspirators. The beautiful band of ring-side confidants who know how to toast, tease, and turn a moment into a memory.
The stage is set. The glasses are chilled.
The stories are waiting to be written.
She can’t wait to welcome you, darlings.
To the estate. To the celebration.
To this showgirl’s eras weekend—and your starring role in it.
Permission to Misbehave
...Tell me you’re coming—so we can plan the drama appropriately
The spotlight’s hot, the heels are higher, and the night’s dressed in sequins and secrets.
This isn’t just an invitation—it’s a glitter-drenched dare. A cabaret of chaos, curated for the bold, the beautiful, and the heartbreakers who dance like they’ve got a vendetta.
Slide your name onto the list below.
We’ll handle the feathers, the flair, and the fallout.
“I’m the problem, it’s me.” And baby, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because this celebration isn’t complete without you.
Every era, every encore, every unforgettable moment — you were there. You remember it all too well.
You’re not just on the guest list. You’re part of the story.
And this chapter? It’s written in rhinestones, lipstick, and love.
Resting Bitch Face
...Ready to fall into something soft
This isn’t just a birthday — it’s a love letter to every version of Jess: visionary, mentor, agent of chaos, and muse. Whether you’re joining for the full weekend or just one glittering night, expect sequins, soul, and stories stitched into every detail. Cheeky elegance, poetic indulgence, and a celebration edited to be as unforgettable as the woman herself.
Naturally, the accommodations have attitude.
Come for the party, stay for the plush pillows and Pinot.
These handpicked stays are so close to Tower Lodge, you could stumble home in heels. Whether your vibe is “champagne in the clawfoot tub” or “cottagecore with a twist,” each one is glam-squad approved and ready to spoil you silly.
Because even showgirls need a soft place to land—and a clawfoot tub to cry in (or toast in).
So choose your sanctuary. Whether you’re crashing in couture or sipping Pinot in pajamas, your afterparty awaits.
Want to Spoil Me?
...if you insist
Welcome to the backstage boudoir of my birthday bash. I’m the showgirl, the sparkle, the main event—and this is where fantasy flirts with reality.
Gifts aren’t expected — your presence is the present. Everything else is just sequins. This showgirl collects memories, not merchandise. Spoil me with stories, sparkle, and shared secrets — not shopping bags. But if you’re feeling generous (or just a little naughty), I won’t say no to a touch of indulgence.
Whether it’s a glittery gesture or a playful surprise, your love is the real luxury. I like shiny things… but I’ve also been known to swoon over the sentimental. Think rhinestones and paper rings.
So go ahead. Pick something fabulous. I’ll be over here practicing my thank-you shimmy and pretending not to peek.
She danced like she knew the ending — and rewrote it anyway.
She wakes in a villa kissed by morning light, vines curling like secrets around stone walls. The air tastes of last night’s laughter and prosecco promises. Glitter still clings to her skin — a constellation of memories. A champagne cocktail waits on the windowsill, fizzing like applause. Barefoot on cool stone, she watches the vineyard exhale. No lover, no expectation. Just her, the sparkle of the glass, and a golden day that stretches like a bridge between chapters.
She didn’t disappear. She dissolved into legend. And the legend was hers to write.
