Inspiration and a mini-Holiday...

Photo by Ellen Von Unwerth

Jane's Vanity will be closed this coming Monday & Tuesday, September 12th-13th 2011, for a mini-holiday at the beach... 

A retreat that will revive and rejuvinate us, and prepare us for the avelanche of Fall/Winter shipments winging their way to us!

While the physical shop may be closed, our online boutique is open at any given moment for a little (or a lot!) of luxury lingerie... Shipments ordered Monday or Tuesday will go out promptly Wednesday, heading off around the city - country - or globe, a luscious package for the very lucky which typically arrives anywhere in the US within 3 days. 

If you're a local Portland Oregon shopper, deterred by our short-yet-sweet closure or on a midnight shopping spree, take advantage of free shipping on your order by using the code PORTLANDLOVE ~ your beauties will ship just as quickly, yet free of charge. (Don't be naughty and abuse this code - if you don't live in Portland, you will be charged!)

Our return Wednesday morning should be just in time for a bevvy of shipments from fantastic designers including Cadolle, Fifi Chachnil, Gilda & Pearl and Maria la Rosa... Luxurious lovelies will fill the store, and soon the online boutique! Keep an eye on our twitter & facebook pages for sneak-peeks and updates on their arrivals, and our tumblr for photo inspiration in our absence. 

Thank you ever-so much for all your support, and for making this mini-holiday a possibility... 

In closing, a segment of the sumptuous poem "The Eve of St. Agnes" by John Keats ~ let this glimpse of passion and opulence inspire you until our return.

xo

Emily

The Eve of St. Agnes John Keats XXV.   Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline’s fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven’s grace and boon;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
She seem’d a splendid angel, newly drest,
Save wings, for heaven:—Porphyro grew faint:
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
XXVI.   Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
XXVII.   Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex’d she lay,
Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress’d
Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;
Blissfully haven’d both from joy and pain;
Clasp’d like a missal where swart Paynims pray;
Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.