Tag: Profile

  • Awaiting Deployment – Private Manus O’Reilly’s Story

    Awaiting Deployment – Private Manus O’Reilly’s Story

     

    “Lig Amach!” This command to the recruits, now fully trained and tested, in the square of Sarsfield Barracks, officially marked the ending of the 6-month training course. Tears, cheers and proud embraces followed as the 120th platoon trained under the 12th Infantry Battalion celebrated their graduation as fully part of the Irish Defence Forces (IDF). 

    “If anyone throws a peaker in the air, I swear to God!” 3 Star Private Manus O’Reilly, 7th Infantry Battalion, recalled his platoon commander lovingly warning him and his comrades. “It was huge for some of them, like there were some lads there who’d like gone for it the first time, got injured during training and are now back, finally finished it. I was in the reserve for six years before getting there.” 

    Ireland has been a member of the United Nations since 1955 and has maintained “a continuous presence on peace support operations” since 1958. 

    Danger has always been present in these over seas missions throughout the years. In 1961 during the siege of Jadotville, a 156 man contingent of the Irish Army’s 35th battalion, serving a UN peace mission in the Congo (ONUC), was surrounded by hundreds of Katangese forces, and put into a 5 day siege, which only ended once the 35th ran out of ammo and surrendered after repelling several assaults and inflicting hundreds of casualties.

    This danger continued to exist throughout 70’s 80’s and 90’s with UN Peace Enforcement missions in the Somalian Civil war between 1993 and 95 (This civil war, depicted in Black Hawk Down, is still ongoing). However, as global geopolitical situations break down and become more complex and dangerous in themselves, so too has the danger and risk in over seas missions throughout the 2020s.

    Lebanon has become a particular flashpoint. In 2022, 23 year old Pte Sean Rooney, was shot and killed after the armoured vehicle he was driving was reportedly surrounded by an angry mob. After being separated from a two car convoy, and ending up in the town of Al-Aqbiya, he and fellow soldier Shane Kearney 22, were hit by small arms fire which penetrated the vehicle. The risk in this mission has grown so much over the last 5 years,  Irish troops being forced into bunkers because of regular artillery bombardments has become common place. 

     

    O’Reilly, awaiting to go overseas for his first deployment, described how, through simply training for every position, he was able to apply for a number of different roles. 

    “You do more courses; you get more qualified on different things; those are more vacancies on the overseas trip that you can possibly fill. In the past year and few months, I’ve done four weapons courses, so the 81-mortar, the javelin, the HMG and now the GPMG SF; I’ve done regimental signallers course, so operating the radios, I’ve done a boxing competition, a shooting competition, a 30km Norwegian foot match, fitness challenge kind of thing, a 30 km rook with all your equipment, brilliant event, I was amazed well the whole company managed that, on the day just with proper fuelling and the fitness I had built up and training.” 

    “It’s so interesting to just do these various things. Instructors will always say, there’s civvies out there who’d pay thousands for this sort of training and your being paid to do it. One of the big reasons I joined the army is for the skills that you can learn in the army that you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere else.”  

    Expanding on this O’Reilly would go on to talk about what keeps him motivated as he continues his career in the army. “For me, I want to be in a job, where I’m in a professional environment, learning and using various sets of skills, in a physically demanding and stressful environment, as part of an actually working team; and the adventure. Going overseas and being in an operational environment, is that incarnate.” 

    “Along with protecting people, even from a historical point of view, I’d be really interested in military stuff, so I see it as, being a soldier in today’s world and feeling the connection historically is a really important part of the job that I really enjoy.” 

    The history of the Irish army, given the neutral stance of this country, is extremely interesting. Possibly due to conflicts fought in the country, i.e. the several rebellions and the Civil War, Irish fighters have historically been known to be excellent guerrilla fighters and shock troops.

    From the approximate 38% of Irish making up Washington’s armies in the American War of Independence and the Irish Brigade armed with makeshift buck and ball rounds in the American Civil War, the San Patricio Brigade in the Mexican-American war and the Connolly column in the Spanish Civil War; it’s clear to see the Irish have fought many wars, even internationally; punching well above their weight with whatever little the people were given if the fight was deemed necessary. Even the most famous guerrilla of all, Che Guevara claimed Irish Heritage.

     

    Today this still rings true for O’Reilly.  “We have the M2 Browning .5 machine gun, that’s been used for over 100 years and it’s still good enough, the Americans use it, the Brits use it; same with the GPMG, the M240 Bravo for the Americans from the 50s, the Javelin, from the 80s or 90s. We don’t have tanks but from Ukraine we’ve seen a couple javelins even the field.” 

    The story of Ireland’s standard issue military rifle, is a funny anecdote in itself. The rifle is the STEYR AUG A1 Mod 14, a modernised version from 2014 of the STEYR AUG A1 which O’Reilly told me he had used in training. These rifles were first adopted and obtained in 1988 from Austria through “a multi-million pound goods for guns deal”. This led eventually to another member of the IDF telling me, as I squatted in a muddy hole, playing airsoft, that he and others he knew had always called it “the butter gun”. 

     

    Manus would go on to explain that the only apprehension or worry he would have, going overseas would be “are we equipped enough?”.  This bears a eery similarity to details surrounding the investigation into outdated holsters provided to members of Gardaí as seen in the recent RTE Investigates on An Garda Síochána.

    “There’s a lot of missions that the Irish army can’t go on because we don’t have the vehicles for it.” He said before adding in the upbeat attitude someone would need to have if they slept in a hole in the rain and cold, “When we do get modern body armour, helmets, radios, everything like that, it’s like I’ve been operating with training weights this whole time and now they will be taken off.” He added that the standard issue flak jackets are built more for shrapnel and are overly heavyweight. 

    O’Reilly is now thinking about his next deployment, which he hopes will be in one of the ongoing missions in the Middle East or Africa.  “The idea of being in such a historic place to so many people and cultures and religions, in an operational environment… I think that would just be really meaningful. Though that’s over fairly soon so… I’d love to go to Africa, just as a continent it’s so fascinating to me, culture-wise, environment-wise, just in thinking about past missions like Chad and Mali and Liberia, the environment is just all so wild.” 

    Photos provided by Manus O’Reilly

  • The Man Who Sold The Moon: Artist Rhiannon Adam On dearMoon Mission

    The Man Who Sold The Moon: Artist Rhiannon Adam On dearMoon Mission

    Upon descending the stairs of the International Centre for the Image, beneath Dublin’s Docklands, one can now experience the cosmos of “Rhi-Entry”, a new exhibition by Rhiannon Adam. 

    Over 781 people have been to space. 28 have travelled to the moon. 12 men have set foot on its surface. 

    Until November 2021, when Irish artist Rhiannon Adam was selected by Japanese billionaire Yusaku Maezawa to board the first civilian circumlunar mission, making her the second woman selected to complete a lunar flyby.  

    Adam was selected as part of the dearMoon project. In collaboration with SpaceX, the project was the first of its kind to send a group of eight artists on a mission mirroring the 1968 Apollo 8 trajectory. Bill Anders, a member of the Apollo 8 crew remarked on return that “they should have sent poets”, reflecting how astronauts did not have the capacity to communicate the grandeur of what they saw. This quote became the genesis of dearMoon.  

    Originally from County Cork, Adam had an unconventional upbringing sailing around the world with her parents. She can see the connection to her fascination with space flight, “Travelling on a boat is about as close on earth as you can get to go into space…..And there is this sense of, that you’re very much at the whims of nature or you know, you’re not completely in control of your own destiny. There is something very powerful about relinquishing that.” 

    Photograph: Sorcha Murray 

    Living in her family’s own existence, on a boat in the middle of the ocean erased all senses of borders and superiority, “I have no sense of, you know, one country’s better than another or like one group of people’s better than another… So there’s something beautiful about the universality of it and interconnectedness….you look out at space and it’s the same sky that we were looking at, like millennia ago wondering what the hell it was.” We are reminded of the interconnectedness every time we look up,  “the lights that we see in the sky and half of them are dead stars, you know, and like we’re looking at death and life all at once.” 

    dearMoon’s application process tracks back to March 2nd 2021, when benefactor Maezawa posted an open call on X for artists to join him. Over one million hopefuls clicked apply. Adam was the only woman chosen on the main crew. Representation on a platform as monumental as space travel proved to be a double-edged sword. “Because I was the only woman, that carried with it a certain, like, weight of responsibility, which I was carrying personally, which was like, I cannot mess this up, because if I mess it up, I’m messing up for my entire gender,” Adam remembers.  

    However, this was also the largest platform an artist could get “very few things capture the human imagination like spaceflight. So, if I could capture any sense of that and even translate five percent of that feeling and even one percent of the people that hear about the flight would have connected to it in any meaningful way. It would have probably had a much bigger reach than any of my work will ever have.” 

     Photograph: Sorcha Murray 

    In the coming years, Adam would eat sleep and breathe preparation for dearMoon “it took the air from every room that I was in”. Telling Dazed, “We were in it for the long haul. All of us had decided that this was going to be our life’s mission, so we planned our lives accordingly.”  

    On the run up to dearMoon, Adam was contacted by the Fotografiska museum in Stockholm. Global director, Johan Vikner and co-curator Sofia Lind wanted Adam to contribute to a show they were curating entitled “Space: A Visual Journey”.  

    Then, on June 1st 2024, after nearly three years since Adam was first selected, benefactor Yusaka Maezawa took to X to announce that after numerous delays with the Starship spacecraft, dearMoon was cancelled. 

    Now, there was a blank five metre stretch of wall for Adam at Fotografiska, “[it had to] encapsulate the experience in some way, like, the joy, the excitement, the sadness, like all of it, and, the sense of responsibility.”  

    From this, “Rhi-Entry” was born, a play on Adam’s forename and the most dangerous element to space travel, re-entry with the Earth’s atmosphere. Exploring broken dreams and the politics of space travel, we are taken on an immersive journey through the grief of the dearMoon cancellation through archive materials and Adam’s photography.  

    On its debut in Stockholm, Adam had found herself suddenly facing the reality of the dearMoon ending up in public, in front of a gallery of onlookers. “I hadn’t ever really talked about the cancellation, like in a really public way….I just burst into tears.”  

    “Rhi-Entry” has now been shown in Photo Vogue Milan, Fotografiska Tallinn and Copenhagen Photo Festival. On its journey, where does Rhiannon hope to find closure? “I don’t think there’ll ever be closure for me, you know, that’s the saddest part. For me, the reality of it is that it gets dark. And I go outside. And I look up. And the moon is right there. And I can never get away from it.” 


    Photograph: Sorcha Murray 

    Bill Anders, who died the week of the dearMoon cancellation in an eerie coincidence, is featured throughout the exhibition with newspaper cutouts from the day of his passing. Another stand-out from the exhibition features a lenticular image of Adam and Anders, which Adam remarks was “such a drama” to realise. New York Fashion Week 2024 saw Adam racing around the city desperately stitching on the exact right mission patches and sourcing the specific shade of blue hoodie necessary to restage the image. 

    Photograph: Sorcha Murray

    While circling the exhibition, echoes of Rhiannon’s own voice, a news anchor’s and a scene from Interstellar (2014) orbit their way around my head. Nearing closer, these sounds are revealed as the Rhi-Entry film. The film is playing on loop, as if it is waiting for you to decipher the perfect re-entry point, to view from the beginning. 

    Entering the darkness of a soft padded enclosure, I am illuminated by footage of Adam sitting across from a zoom call, informing her that dearMoon has been cancelled. Adam stifles her disappointments and hastily ends the call. As the voice on the other end fades out, so too does Adam’s composure. Bending at the will of years of delays, I watch as Adam bursts into tears.   

    Adam intertwines the reality of the harrowing grief with fiction elements, using film footage exploring space travel including Interstellar (2014), Fly Me to the Moon (2024) and Contact (1997).  

    Blending fact and fiction is central to Adam’s work, two themes she does not find to be mutually exclusive “a documentary is aways like a little form of fiction right? As a photographer I’m making a selection of what I think is worth shooting. I’m still curating a version of existence. I’m leaving certain things out the frame.” 

    Adam charts the inescapable line of dialogue between fact and fiction a step further, referencing the design of the SpaceX astronaut suits. Hollywood costume designer, Jose Fernandez believed he was getting a brief to construct costumes for a film about space.  

    Fact and fiction found another thorough line in Adam’s life, outside of her own work. In the fallout of dearMoon, she worried: “there’s always this doubt, like, was [the dearMoon mission] real? Was it not? Like, was it a big publicity stunt and I will never know.”  

    The film also connects the ending of the dearMoon project with America’s far-right motivations with space travel. On the possibility of a future similar project, “I think that there was a brief moment when dearMoon could have existed, had real impact and I think that moment has passed, because Elon Musk, at the time when we were selected, was not involved in American politics. SpaceX was not a political plaything in the middle of this landscape.”  

    Founder of SpaceX, Elon Musk has become increasingly involved in politics since Maezawa first bought a trip on SpaceX’s Starship in 2018. Adam remarks “you know, it’s not just a race for the moon. It’s a race for which ideology gets to run things. That’s really the crux of it. It is like an ideological war.”  

    “Rhi-Entry” is now showing at the International Centre for the Image in Dublin until December 23rd. 

  • Chloe Michelle Howarth on Uplifting Queer Narratives Through Modern Irish Literature

    Chloe Michelle Howarth on Uplifting Queer Narratives Through Modern Irish Literature

    COVID-19 arrives in March of 2020 with a peculiar pause as society closes its doors. In Dublin, IADT student Chloe Michelle Howarth begins to pack her bags to head back to her family home in West Cork to quarantine. Somewhere within that still isolation, Howarth began to write a queer coming-of-age novel which will go on to sell 70,000 copies to date.

    Now, from her home in Brighton, Chloe Michelle Howarth tells me a familiar story of her daily lockdown strolls within the 2-kilometre limits of her home. She remembers the cows, the rabbits, the hedgerows, how the sun hit the grass in a twinkling light. Howarth photographed the things she found alluring and typed up fragments detailing the most beautiful corners of the county that she loved so much. What began as excerpts in the notes app of her iPhone would soon become an integral part of her debut novel Sunburn.  

    “My parents’ house in the country is truly in the most beautiful 2 kilometre radius, I wouldn’t ever want to leave. The Irish countryside is just so gorgeous. I was so lucky because it’s just very vast, very rural”. 

    Eventually, these descriptions inspired Crossmore, a fictional rural Irish town and the roots of her acclaimed debut novel Sunburn. “Crossmore is kind of tapestry of the most beautiful parts of West Cork,” said Howarth, “I essentially just got to describe the nature of Ireland and put the beauty down on a page, which I could do forever.”

    With two published novels and another set to release next summer, Howarth originally never expected to even pursue publication. Sunburn was initially a passion project without any pressures of publication.  

    “The story just kind of spiralled away from me as I was writing it, and I think that’s the beauty of not having any audience at all in mind when you’re writing something because you can just be so creative. And then, eventually, you kind of look at it and you go, oh, this is all starting to form its own narrative!” 

    Writing nuanced novels with sapphic themes comes quite easy to Howarth. But if the summer landscape gave Sunburn its setting, it was Howarth’s own familiarity with the theme that provided the story its emotional core. Queerness, she says, was never something that had to be intentionally inserted into her writing. It was simply there. 

    They say to write what you know, and for this Cork-born queer author, “I knew I wanted to write a queer story, and I knew it was going to be set in the Irish countryside. It just wouldn’t feel natural to me to write a story that wasn’t centred around queer characters,” said Howarth. 

    Photo credit: Emma Jones

    Howarth’s bibliography moves backwards through Ireland’s queer history with Sunburn being set primarily in the 1990s, and her second novel Heap Earth Upon It retreating even further back to the 1960s. Howarth flourishes in rewriting sapphic romances into eras of criminalised homosexuality in Ireland.  

    “The 90s was such a turbulent time for queer people but also such a hopeful time,” said Howarth, “I decided to start the real narrative of Sunburn during that time as homosexuality was only decriminalised in ’93.” 

    Howarth suggests that in a small, rural town like Crossmore, the law doesn’t necessarily reflect social attitudes in such a confined community. Howarth “wanted to create this little village so far away from the rest of the world where these major things were happening globally for the queer community that weren’t really touching this conservative little place”. 

    Take it back to the 60s and Howarth tells a story of gothic sapphic obsession and an elusive past in the fictional Irish town of Ballycrea. For Howarth, her debut novel had quite a sun-soaked and “nostalgic visual identity tied to the 90s”. In her second book, she moves further back in history to an alternative, darker, and more claustrophobic scene of religious repression and desire forced into the shadows of a heavily Catholic Ireland. 

    Heap Earth Upon It explores the complexities of same sex attraction and the shame that accompanies it in a period of forbidden queerness. Particularly in historically conservative spaces, Howarth said she doesn’t “think there will ever be enough different forms of representation, we certainly do need a lot more queer media”.  

    Queer people existed in Ireland all along, even when history left them on the sidelines in whispers and secrecy. In writing sapphic romance in historically Irish contexts, Howarth provides those erased lives somewhere to exist on a page. The now 30-year-old said that she “didn’t really search for queer media” in her youth. In West Cork, “such things didn’t exist at the time. I was just very sheltered, you know, it wasn’t out there. I wish there had just been more queerness, and I wish it had been more accessible,” said Howarth on the lack of queer fiction in her teenage years. 

    Looking into the future of queer literature, Howarth “would like to see more gender, non-conforming characters, more transgender characters, and also the nuance of gender and sexuality as a whole”. 

    “I want someone to explore the fact that it’s not such a black and white experience. There are a lot of fantastic trans writers in Ireland, and I want them to get more opportunities to tell their stories,” said Howarth. 

    On her upcoming novel Aftertaste, which releases in June 2027, Howarth speaks about the aesthetics and themes featured in her third publication. “I’m glad you asked, I haven’t got to answer a lot of questions about the new book yet!” 

    “I feel like this story isn’t as stuck into a specific visual, whereas I think my last two books were certainly very seasonal and visually tangible,” said Howarth, “I think it’s actually a very hopeful book in comparison to the others, the characters, regardless of what happens to them remain very hopeful. And that is all I can say for now”. 

    From the quiet fields of West Cork to the fictional paths of Crossmore and Ballycrea, Howarth’s work to date has always merged Ireland, queerness, and history. For some, that is what makes the arrival of Aftertaste so intriguing. After two stories saturated in nostalgia, inhibition, and buried desire, Howarth simply describes her newest novel as hopeful. Although the details remain confidential, the message is clear: there are still queer stories waiting to be written and told, and Howarth holds a space for them to be heard. 

  • From TU Dublin to Amnesia Ibiza: The College Society That Transformed LIA’s Life

    From TU Dublin to Amnesia Ibiza: The College Society That Transformed LIA’s Life

    You’re a 20-year-old third-year film student who has decided to walk alone into a TU Dublin DJ Society event on a whim. You don’t know anyone there, and you don’t know what to expect. You hope you might make a friend or two, or that you’ll get some fun nights out of it.

    What you don’t know is that you have just made what you will describe later as one of the most important decisions of your life.

    Learning to DJ doesn’t come easy to you, and the technical side is difficult, but your love for music prevails, and you keep coming back. You learn from the people around you, practice, and when you don’t understand something, you go home and teach yourself on YouTube.

    Three years later, you’re playing in Amnesia Ibiza, one of the world’s most famous clubs.

    That student was Dublin native Leah O’Riordan, better known as LIA, whose unexpected hobby would change the course of her life.

    Now 23, the Irish DJ has spent the last three summers holding residencies in Ibiza, while her career has taken her far beyond the island. This summer alone brought her debuts in Portugal, Tenerife, Greece, and the UK, a reality her 20-year-old self could hardly have imagined.

    Pictured: Leah O’Riordan playing in Amnesia Ibiza.

    Just a year after she began DJing, O’Riordan was living in Ibiza for a working holiday when she and fellow DJ Society member Viki Dos Santos were offered the chance to play a B2B (back-to-back) set at Eden.

    Pictured: Emmie Finnegan (left), Leah O’Riordan (centre), Viki Dos Santos (right), at TUD DJ Society.

    “I really couldn’t believe my luck,” she said. Still relatively new to DJing, the pair practiced relentlessly, determined to make the most out of an unexpected opportunity, and it paid off. “We practiced and practiced our set so it would be perfect and we would make a good impression, and afterwards we got offered several more gigs at the club.”

    Not long after, Leah was given a residency at Itaca Ibiza, where her skills strengthened considerably.

    “It feels like the place I truly learned how to DJ,” she said. Playing for over five hours multiple times a week gave her the experience and confidence she needed. “It was that winter that things snowballed for me back at home in Ireland.”

    Pictured: Leah O’Riordan playing in Limelight, Belfast.

    Snowball they did. O’Riordan soon found herself playing opening and support slots for major artists such as Kettama before reaching another milestone this summer, when she closed the Smirnoff Stage alongside Viki Dos Santos at Electric Picnic, Ireland’s largest music festival.

    Pictured: Viki Dos Santos (left) & Leah O’Riordan (right) playing at the Smirnoff Stage at Electric Picnic.

    This was particularly poignant for Leah; the pair who began their journey together at TU Dublin were now sharing one of the biggest stages of their careers. “Being trusted to close a massive stage at a festival that big is a whole different ball game and felt like an incredible honour,” she said.

    As her notoriety grows, O’Riordan has become increasingly aware of the different experience that comes with being a young female DJ.

    Leah feels she receives different treatment in the booth due to her gender. “Sometimes in the form of a guy that’s playing after you trying to hop on five minutes early, or in more intimate settings where the dancers are up closer to you, men just coming up too close to me or nearly knock off the music,” she said.

    O’Riordan has also faced suggestions that her success has less to do with her ability and more to do with her being a woman.

    “I have experienced people trying to insinuate that the opportunities I’m receiving are because I’m a woman, and in a way where they didn’t even think that was an outrageous thing to say at all,” she said.

    Leah’s experiences have left her with mixed feelings about being labelled a “female DJ” rather than simply a “DJ”.

    “I understand that historically it has been a male-dominated industry,” she said. “But then I also think, why? Is it a subtle jab of some sort, or is it trying to draw some sort of novelty or spectacle out of the fact that it’s a woman DJing and not a man? I can’t help but feel sometimes it is.”

    Away from the booth, however, the person behind LIA is somewhat quieter.

    “When I am Leah and not LIA, I am a bit more reserved and quiet than I might come across online or playing gigs,” said O’Riordan. “But when I’m comfortable with you, I’m fun, loud and adventurous.”

    Before DJing became her full-time career, Leah already had a passion for creating. O’Riordan holds a first-class honours degree in filmmaking and has written and directed four short films, including award-nominated Water Weight.

    Despite her success, Leah admits that it has not come without pressures.

    “I think the hardest part that people don’t always see is the self-doubt and comparison,” she said. “I really try hard not to compare myself to others because we are all on our own journeys, but it can be tough at times, truthfully.”

    With new music to find, production to learn, sets to prepare, and an online presence to maintain, Leah struggles to switch off. “It can be tough to let yourself rest as it feels like you can always be doing something to better your career.”

    “The goal post is always moving,” she said. “I don’t always get the time to appreciate how far I’ve come because I’m always looking forward.”

    Although much has changed for Leah, she has not forgotten where it all began: TU Dublin’s DJ Society, where she credits the community of friends who pushed her to improve.

    “The community within the DJ society drove me to want to get better every week, and seeing the people around me play inspired me,” she said.

    Pictured: Leah O’Riordan playing in Café Mambo, Ibiza.

    Three years on, the 20-year-old who walked into that first session alone is almost unrecognisable from the DJ now touring Europe and playing some of the world’s most renowned clubs.

    When asked what she would say to her younger self if she could return to that day, she said, “I would tell myself that this moment is ultimately going to change your life.”

     

    All photo credits go to Leah O’Riordan.

     

  • “I Think I’ve Cracked The Code”: How Sophie McQuade Is Keeping Temple Bar Runway Ready

    “I Think I’ve Cracked The Code”: How Sophie McQuade Is Keeping Temple Bar Runway Ready

    Along the cobbled pathway of Fownes Street Upper, tucked into the terraced buildings that face the all-too-tall and modern One Central Plaza, is an array of vintage shops, a product of the McQuade family. The historic building that houses these shops has maintained its roots, still looking unchanged since the sixties, creating a striking contrast with the wannabe Rockefeller Centre opposite. Up the apparel-adorned stairs inside the shop Flip, you will find the vintage haven Sacred Heart of Vintage. Owned and run by twenty-five-year-old Sophie McQuade, Sacred Heart of Vintage is a time capsule where decades of fashion collide, and micro trends are left at the door. Sophie opened the doors of Sacred Heart of Vintage in 2022, and has since turned the shop into a hotspot for vintage fashion enthusiasts and those curious to see what vintage has to offer.

    Sacred Heart of Vintage: Sophie McQuade

    I sat with Sophie in the warmly lit shop embellished with Virgin Mary statues and deer antlers decorating the walls. Just after 6 pm, when she closed the doors and moved mannequins aside, she began to tell me her story.  Sophie was never a stranger to buying and selling vintage fashion; she began her vintage fashion ventures working with her father, who planted his roots in Temple Bar in 1987. She then moved on to be his buyer until finally opening Sacred Heart of Vintage three years ago. Sophie likes to run her show a little differently to her father. “I like to involve my staff a lot; it’s always a team effort. I ask for their advice on clothes or what stock to buy,” she said.

    Sophie also places a major focus on women’s vintage fashion, “like 80% of my stuff is women’s, because there was such a gap in all the other vintage shops, they were selling both men and women’s, but mostly men. Whereas there was no one really selling just women’s, I did kind of take that from my dad, so I think I’ve cracked the code,” Sophie explained with a giggle.

    Growing up in Temple Bar is as unique an experience as any. Before it was the tourist hotspot it is now, Temple Bar was a central hub for the arts, gathering aspiring actors, singers, artists and all those in between with the attraction of cheap rent due to the neglect the area faced prior. In the early 2000’s when Sophie was growing up, Temple Bar had begun its rebrand as the cultural focal point of the city, home to punks, skaters and many other subcultures. “It was such a community, like a meeting point for people who didn’t really fit in. We want to keep that alive between all these mega pubs and big conglomerate restaurants.”

    Her frustration with these changes is tangible. The community was serviced by Flip vintage store along with its accompanying shops by providing fashion that was conducive to each individual’s stylistic desires. Sophie strongly expresses how she wants to continue this. “It’s a shop where people can go, ‘Oh well, I don’t really like that shop’, but this shop, my shop, it kind of has something to suit everyone.”

    Sacred Heart of Vintage: Sophie McQuade

    Sophie is no stranger to the limelight; Sacred Heart of Vintage is a staple in Dublin vintage shopping, and the proof is in the many articles that make this point. In 2025, Sacred Heart of Vintage was named by Vogue magazine as one of Dublin’s best vintage stores, with news editor Anna Cafolla hailing its unique decor and varied collection of attire. I asked Sophie how it felt to be trophied in the fashion bible; her face lit up as she explained, “it kind of reinforced this thing of like I’m doing something right. Which was really a really nice feeling, but it’s one of my like greatest accomplishments.”

    Sophie is a major advocate for supporting local. She mentioned it many times throughout our conversation, and the recent rise in demand for vintage and sustainable fashion has accelerated this. As fashion fanatics become more educated on the environmental impact of fast fashion and start to despise the cyclical nature of micro-trends, more people are turning to vintage fashion for an answer. “I think it definitely has created a new kind of lease of life. It’s more popular with, you know, people that when I was younger would have thought it was really strange to wear old clothes, and because it’s gotten so popular, it’s seen as a really cool kind of trendy thing. I really like it.” She’s not worried about the future of vintage fashion, but is passionate about the motivation behind it: “at the minute, it’s very kind of environmental. I think there will be a bit of a push towards shopping small and shopping local. I hope.”

    Sacred Heart of Vintage: Sophie McQuade

    At the age of 25, Sophie is single-handedly running and managing her own business, a role she took on at 22. Without having studied business or been taught how to build and run one, Sophie was thrown into the deep end when she took over Sacred Heart of Vintage from her father. The inner workings of running the business that go unnoticed by most are often the most rigorous tasks. Sophie explained to me the ins and outs of her buying trips. “I go over to our lovely suppliers who I have an amazing relationship with, who are also a small family business, and I’ll look through hundreds of tons of clothes in the space of maybe three days. I’m looking for quality, I’m looking if there’s rips in it, I’m looking to see if it’s missing buttons, broken zippers, all those details.” Counting on her fingers, she details the quantities she’s picking up: “I’m buying between 800 and 1000, sometimes 1500 kilos at a time.” Sacred Heart of Vintage is a curated vintage shop, meaning each and every item you see in the shop has been handpicked by Sophie and her staff on buying trips.

    Before we said our goodbyes, Sophie added that she is “beyond grateful” for her business. “I have met the most amazing people in this industry. Every day there is something new, whether it’s a challenge or triumph. Either way, I think me and my team we all are so lucky to get to continue learning new lessons every day.” Sacred Heart of Vintage is a testament to Sophie’s passion for vintage fashion and relentless courage to run a business at such a young age.

  • ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’: Emily O’Donnell on fashion, TV, and her rise to the spotlight  

    ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’: Emily O’Donnell on fashion, TV, and her rise to the spotlight  

    Award-winning stylist and fashion broadcaster Emily O’Donnell reflects on the hard work, persistence, and passion that shaped her path in fashion and Irish television.  

    By Peace Okolo

    When Emily O’Donnell was announced as Best Celebrity Stylist at the Gossies 2026 award show, her reaction was anything but rehearsed. 

    “I was genuinely speechless,” she said. “I rarely am.” 

    For someone who has spent over a decade in front of the camera, that moment was refreshingly human. 

    “I think this award meant so much because it was unexpected,” she said. 

    “I was just really grateful to win it and to stand there on the stage in the RDS is just a moment I’ll never forget.” 

    This was an unfiltered moment in a career that mostly looks effortless from the outside, but is built on years of uncertainty, persistence, and behind-the-scenes work that most people never see. 

    “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she said.  

    Emily O’Donnell at the Gossies 2026 Award. Photo credit: Instagram 

    Now a familiar face on Irish television, Emily’s journey did not start in front of the camera, but in lecture halls and corporate offices. 

    “I started off doing a business degree and then a master’s in PR,” she said.

    “But even then, I always gravitated towards fashion, but I didn’t know how to turn that into a career at the time.” 

    Armed with a business degree and a master’s degree in public relations, she initially followed what she describes as the “predictable” route into corporate PR.  

    But it didn’t take long for her to realize it wasn’t where she belonged. 

    “I was using the degree and the master’s that I had, you know, worked really hard for, but I just felt I wasn’t creatively fulfilled,” she said.  

    “I didn’t want to spend the next 40 years of my life staring at a computer.” 

    This realisation marked a turning point in her career, where she decided to explore styling, a role that wasn’t widely understood in Ireland at the time.  

    “At that stage, people didn’t really know what a stylist was,” she said. “This was many years ago in Ireland, where there wasn’t as much opportunity in the creative fields for women to a certain extent.” 

    Emily O’Donnell in a live television studio. Photo credit: Instagram 

    Emily’s early career was defined by taking every opportunity she could find.

    From writing for emerging online fashion platforms to working behind the scenes on shoots, she slowly combined her interests in fashion, media, and storytelling. 

    Instead of waiting for the perfect opportunity, she started where she could – assisting stylists, taking courses, and saying yes to anything that gave her experience.  

    “I don’t know anyone who works in television who just walked in and sat down on the stool or the couch and started presenting at, like, top level,” she said.  

    “Everyone has made coffee, carried equipment, or assisted in shoots. You learn every part of the business from the ground up.” 

    Then came the opportunity that would eventually change everything.  

    Emily got a call from a producer and was asked to take part in a television pilot, to which she said yes, even though she wasn’t fully sure what to expect. 

    “It was a pilot show for RTE about a cultural exchange between two generations. That show ended up winning an IFTA (Irish Film & Television Award) in 2008 for Best Reality Program,” she said.  

    “That’s when a producer told me I had the ‘gift of the gab’,” she said. 

    “But she said, to become a presenter, you need to be a presenter of something.” 

    For her, that “something” was always going to be fashion.  

    What followed was another pivot in her journey. She went back to education, this time to study television production and presentation, while friends around her settled into more traditional life paths. 

    “At the time, I was wondering, is this ever going to pay off?” she said.

    “But now that I look back, I feel I was being guided in the right direction all the time, even though it was a longer road, it was the road to where I was meant to be.”  

    That moment marked the beginning of her transition into live television and broadcasting. 

    After completing professional training in TV production and presentation, Emily began combining freelance styling with media work, eventually landing a role on a regional TV show that would run weekly for over two years. 

    “I got a call from someone in the business about a new station called Irish TV. They were looking for presenters and asked if I could meet them at Johnny Fox’s,” she said.  

    “Now, my mom, I think, thought I was on my way to get murdered at this point.” 

    But determined to chase her passion, she went anyway.

    Paired with a cameraman and director, she was tasked with producing and presenting a pilot about County Wicklow.   

    “They basically said, if the pilot is good, you’ve got the gig. If not, that’s it.” 

    The pilot was a huge success.  

    “For the next two and a half years, we had a weekly show at seven o’clock every Sunday,” she said.

    “That was the moment I realized I could actually do this full time.”  

    She created, produced, and presented “The Hat Show Fashion Series” and co-produced “Wicklow County Matters,” both of which aired on Sky Channel 191 from 2014-2017.  

    The Hat show series was so well-received that the Irish Times named it one of their Top TV Shows of the Year in 2016. 

    Emily’s persistence eventually paid off when she secured another role as a Fashion Broadcaster with Virgin Media Television, a milestone she had been working towards for years. 

    “I had sent in so many showreels before that,” she laughed. “Some of them were so bad. But I was determined.” 

    Throughout her career, Emily has remained a strong advocate for Irish designers by using her platform to spotlight emerging talent. 

    “Some designers don’t get seen unless someone gives them that opportunity,” she said.

    “One post or one TV feature can completely change their career.” 

    She recalls working with a Ukrainian designer whose work gained major attention after being featured on television. 

    “Her bags ended up in Vogue,” she said. “That’s the impact visibility can have.”  

    “Any time I get the chance to help or promote an Irish brand, I always try to do it because I want to give something back and help, particularly women in the fashion industry.” 

    While her job may appear glamorous on screen, Emily highlighted the realities behind working in the industry, particularly its instability. 

    “It’s not a career where you just walk into a permanent job,” she said. “You have to be comfortable with uncertainty.” 

    She talked about one of the most challenging periods of her career during the COVID-19 pandemic, when retailers were closed and productions halted, forcing her to adapt quickly.  

    “I would say that was the most terrifying time because before that, I felt I was sort of getting to the peak of my career, and things were so busy, and for all that work to just drop off was terrifying and challenging,” she said. 

    For those hoping to follow a similar path, Emily’s advice is simple: be patient, consistent, and self-aware. 

    “Every single thing you do leads to the next thing,” she said. “Even the small opportunities matter.” 

    She also stresses the importance of self-promotion: “If people don’t know what you can do, they can’t give you opportunities,” she said.

    “Blow your own trumpet, essentially.” 

    Looking back, Emily sees her journey not as a linear path, but as a series of stepping stones that led her exactly where she needed to be. 

    “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she said. “But if you keep going, you’ll get there.” 

    More than a decade into her career, Emily O’Donnell’s journey is still evolving, but if there’s one thing her story makes clear, it’s that success in creative industries rarely happens overnight. 

    Instead, it’s built in layers; through resilience, perseverance, and the willingness to keep going, even when the path isn’t clear.  

  • Far from home, Poojan Mahajan builds Sui Dhaghaa

    Far from home, Poojan Mahajan builds Sui Dhaghaa

    The clothing brand Sui Dhaghaa is the story of Poojan Mahajan’s journey of creativity and resilience. When Mahajan moved from India to Ireland for her studies, she never imagined she would build a clothing brand that blends South Asian traditions with a new country.

    Poojan Mahajan in a Sui Dhaghaa outfit. Photo Credit: Poojan Mahajan

    “I was having an Indian Masala Tea and thought I needed to do something to feel more confident, not lost in life. I wanted a pathway to success,” she said


    With ambitions in her suitcase and uncertainty in her heart, she arrived in the unfamiliar streets of Ireland in 2018 and navigated emotional challenges. “I did not have a plan to start a business here. I finished my master’s in international business at the University of Limerick, landed a new job, and once you have a job, it feels like you have a stable career, but I was not happy. I was doing marketing in a construction company,” she said.


    Thousands of miles from home, Poojan Mahajan was often shadowed by the sense of not belonging. “I was in a foreign land, but still missed home. I missed the feeling of belongingness,” Mahajan said, “I realised I need to build something for myself; I am the one who will be recognised. This is how I thought of starting the Sui Dhaghaa.”


    Mahajan’s Sui Dhaghaa- meaning needle and thread – symbolises connection and simple tools that stitch pieces of fabric together. “I want to connect it back to my origin. And if you tell someone in English that it means needle and thread, they will connect as well. To me, needle and thread stress the meaning of boutique,” she said.


    For Poojan Mahajan, it has become a way of bridging cultures in Ireland, keeping traditional roots alive. “I noticed the local community wanted to find out about Indian wear. People could not travel back to India that often, so that’s where I see a huge demand, but there was no supply,” she said. “I do stitch here; get dresses altered, but get my raw materials from India because you cannot get that clothing in Ireland.”


    Mahajan believes that not every passion is taught; some are passed through inheritance. “It is not always what you studied; sometimes it is what you inherited from your parents. In India, my mother and my father run a clothing business. I have seen my parents since childhood working on it, so I know how to do it. I know the basics; I need to upskill and learn how to do business.”


    Turning the idea into reality comes with a set of emotions, doubts, and determination. “I first started to build Sui Dhaghaa in 2023, but at the beginning, I feared judgment and how the public would respond. That was the first question,” Mahajan said, “and the second was how I would even start. I did not have a team. I had to do everything on my own. I have experience in International Business, and I know tricks and ways that I could facilitate building a brand.”


    Despite her doubts, Mahajan’s idea began to take shape in Lucan, Dublin. “In a foreign land, it was challenging to start; how to comply, how to really start. I just took a leap of faith and opened an Instagram page. I come from marketing; I know that social media would help reach a mass audience and could save huge amounts on advertising.”


    The challenge, she says, was straightforward. Building something from scratch comes with some hurdles. “Operating a business in a foreign land is very different,” she said, “I face the challenges in the supply chain, with logistics proving the complicated part. If you ship something from India, it takes much longer. The expected time could be 10 to 15 days; realistically, it could take a month.”


    For Mahajan, some challenges are unavoidable and are a part of the process. “In this situation, there is not much you can control; you must give it time.”


    With hard work and dedication, Mahajan began to earn customers’ trust. “I now have more than 500 clients, and we are currently delivering all over Ireland. It’s not only the Indian diaspora. But now Indian and Irish weddings are becoming more popular. The people were delighted that they didn’t have to travel to the UK to buy dresses for such events now.”


    “I remember the milestone in this journey when I prepared dresses for 11 bridesmaids, and it was a life-changing experience and gave me confidence to do a job for someone,” she said


    Through Sui Dhaghaa, Mahajan created a space for women to bring their own vision of clothing to life. “I realised it was a means for women to customise dresses as they like. It gives women the freedom to bring their own fashion ideas to life,” she said.

    Photo Credit: Poojan Mahajan

    Mahajan’s little wins and passion aim to expand her business. “I am trying to make efforts to extend it to larger audiences. I am also trying to get on Amazon.”


    Looking back on her journey of Sui Dhaga, she carries a simple message, “Until you don’t try, you don’t realise your potential. Initially, it does not have to be perfect. At least put yourself out there, be vulnerable, and have a zeal to learn. It is only about taking a leap of faith in yourself because if you don’t, no one else will.”

  • You’re having a laugh!  

    You’re having a laugh!  

    TheCity caught up with up-and-coming comedian Darren Gaffney to chat about his first solo gig, the high and lows of live performance, and why getting barred from a place isn’t always permanent. 

    By Rebecca Reilly 

    Originally from the small village of Kilnaleck in County Cavan, which, according to Darren, had the record for most pubs per capita in Ireland, his upbringing was typical of rural Ireland. His mum is a nurse and dad a plumber, Darren was influenced heavily by the two f’s of country living – farming and football. “My uncle had a farm, so I spent a lot of time with him, playing football and going to mass – all that crack,” he laughs. A childhood that would be familiar to many rural inhabitants of Ireland, Darren maintains, is why his comedy hits. “People get it!”  

    Having been bitten by the performance bug early in life, Darren performed at Scór and Réadóirí competitions, both of which focused heavily on Irish culture. Participants would showcase the likes of Irish dancing, poetry, and music. “I remember there was a segment called recitations. I dressed up as a farmer and recited a funny poem. I always loved being on stage.” 

    Darren Gaffney. Photo credit:  Sinéad Murphy and Zoe Sanford 

    One would be forgiven for thinking Darren might have dived right into performing arts, but a more serious route came calling. “I did politics, economics and law in college. I thought it might become a TD for the craic!” But after a year’s Erasmus in Poland, Darren decided to bite the bullet and try to crack comedy on his return home. “I never thought about being a comedian. But I had a lot of friends who kept telling me I should do it. When I came back to Ireland, I signed up for an open mic on the Ha’penny Bridge.”  

    It was a daunting experience. “You don’t have a clue when you start, so I didn’t tell anyone. I kept it a secret and just drove up to Dublin,” he recalls. “The first gig went well, but I think on the second gig, I got drunk, and I was so nervous. And it went awful! I don’t drink at all now before going on stage.”  

    In 2020, COVID hit and like so many, Darren had to put his career on pause. It didn’t deter him; he was adamant he was going to succeed, a slog that was going to be much harder than he was prepared for. “You must have thick skin. Nobody cares about you at the start; you must fight for everything. If I knew how much work it was going to be, I don’t know if I would have done it!”  

    Darren Gaffney. Photo credit: Sinéad Murphy and Zoe Sanford. 

    A tenacious attitude led Darren to forge his own path, not to be dependent on others for his success. “That’s why I started a comedy club, Bite the Bullet, in the Cat and Cage in Drumcondra. Trying to book gigs at the start – you’re just another comedian; there are loads of them. Not everyone wants to help; you’re on your own, really. You get a bit of respect if you have some get-up-and-go.” Bite the Bullet comedy also runs in the Chelsea Drugstore in Dublin city centre, The Tap House in Ranelagh and an ad hoc show in the Imperial in Cavan – where, ironically, Darren was once barred from. 

    With his first solo gig in Dublin just around the corner (two sold-out nights in Little Whelans on the 12th and 13th of April and a third night added on the 14th), Darren says his comedy sets are very reflective of his genuine self. “I try to really like myself on stage. In real life, I’m always messing around. It’s high energy and unpredictable as hell,” he laughs. With a big emphasis on Irish life and growing up in rural Ireland, the 28-year-old draws his inspiration from observing life and interacting with the audience. “A lot of comedians look down on that audience interaction, but it was something I was good at from the outset.”   

    Observational and genuine comedy is something that has granted Darren success on TikTok, social media almost being a prerequisite for comedy now. Living a dual life online and on stage can come with its difficulties. “Stuff that works on TikTok might not work on stage and vice versa,” he said. “The stuff that comes out of nowhere is usually better. I was trying to think of content before a gig the last day, and I just came up with a video about how nobody puts children in the back of vans or cars anymore – and it blew up! I took it in one take. Other content I take a long time thinking of, maybe comes across a bit forced? It’s weird.”   

    Darren Gaffney. Photo credit: Sinéad Murphy and Zoe Sanford. 

    As the old saying goes, what goes up must come down, and being on stage has become something of an addiction to Darren.  “It’s such a rollercoaster of emotion; you come from the highs of your life to crushing lows,” he reveals. “You get home after being mental on stage for an hour – you can’t sleep. I was chatting to a comedian who was doing a small gig in London once, and he went walking around London and ran into Ricky Gervais, who was on his way to Wembley on a post-gig walk as well.”   

    “One time after a good gig in Mullingar, I was driving home, and the guards started following me. They stopped me and asked me if I was on drugs. I drove the whole way out of the road with no lights on! Since that moment, I’ll always chill for half an hour after a gig.”   

    Darren is hoping to do a tour of Ireland, and all going well, across the water in the UK. Like his comedy hero, Tommy Tiernan, Vicar Street or the Olympia is the primary objective. “Selling out either of those would be class. Although if I did that, I’d probably be thinking of the next thing. That happens to me a lot. But if I sold out either of those, that would be the dream.” 

  • Where silence stops, the truth begins: The Roisin Boyd story   

    Where silence stops, the truth begins: The Roisin Boyd story   

    A deep look at a woman whose journalism, feminism, and anti-colonial solidarity shaped both her career and the students she inspired along the way. 

    “It’s my DNA… I have to do it.” 

    These words are spoken with absolute certainty by a journalist who has spent decades challenging power structures. Roisin Boyd’s journalistic journey and ethical and moral compass is shown through her courageous storytelling.  

    Boyd’s path to journalism began in the politically charged atmosphere of 1980s Ireland, a place held in a political chokehold by profound social constraints. “I was interested in becoming a journalist from the age of 14,” she recalls. “My family was quite political, and my mom was a feminist. There were meetings in our house, feminist women’s liberation meetings.” 

    These weren’t just your average family gatherings; they were revolutionary assemblies. In an Ireland where contraception was restricted, divorce was forbidden, and women’s voices were systematically marginalized, these meetings were acts of radical resistance. 

    Photo by Derek Speirs. Cleaners protest at UCD in 1985

    A common misconception when talking about the issues above, and many others, is that nothing was being done about the unjustness of it all, but many voices like Boyd’s spoke out against them even when that was maybe not the norm.  

    “We were not all lying down, taking it,” Boyd said. “There was resistance, and people were protesting.” 

    From the get-go Boyd stood up and wrote about what she believed in. Her early journalistic experiences were rooted in feminist publications. At a time when many young women were confined to traditional roles, Boyd was writing for Wicca, a feminist magazine that challenged societal norms. Later, at Trinity College, she worked on Bell Jar, named after Sylvia Plath – another important symbol of women breaking through systemic silences.  

    A defining moment of her early career came with Spare Rib, a radical London-based feminist magazine. Boyd became the first ever Irish woman on its collective, a position that would reshape her understanding of journalism and activism. 

    “When I was in London, it was really tense,” she explains. The time that Boyd made this move was during the height of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, a period of intense political conflict. Being Irish in England meant navigating difficult political landscapes. For Boyd, this meant that every story was potentially considered controversial. 

    One of Boyd’s most difficult and controversial articles, “Why You Can’t Be a Zionist and a Feminist,” shows her fearless approach to journalism. She interviewed an Israeli Jewish woman, a Lebanese woman, and a Palestinian woman in the aftermath of the Sabra and Shatila massacres. This was one of the most harrowing massacres committed in the Lebanese civil war, a conflict known for its violence. 

    “All hell broke loose,” she remembers. Shops in New York refused to sell Spare Rib, and she faced accusations of anti-Semitism. “It was so painful and so difficult to be accused of being anti-Semitic when I was trying to amplify voices of resistance and solidarity. And to highlight the horror of what had happened in the camps.” 
     
    Looking back, what Boyd did is somehow even more impressive today. Decades before it became more “acceptable” to speak openly about these topics, she was amplifying the voices that were ignored, showing how journalism really can challenge silence. Now, with more people speaking out, even the younger generation, it’s clear how necessary that courage was. 

    Boyd says that “the slur of anti-semitism is frequently weaponised to silence critics of Zionism and the Israeli state’s aggression against Palestinians.” 

    Returning to Ireland, Boyd joined RTÉ, where she encountered another form of censorship through Section 31, a law restricting media coverage of the Northern Ireland conflict. “This had a disastrous effect on RTÉ’s coverage of the north and human rights issues,” she explains. 

    Yet Boyd was not easily silenced. She found innovative ways to tell important stories, working alongside colleagues who shared her commitment to truth. Her reporting spanned international landscapes from conflicts in Somalia to highlighting the struggles of cleaners at University College Dublin, all with the same goal: to have voices heard and make a difference.  

    “Even with censorship, there were always ways, if you’re a good journalist and you’ve got supportive colleagues, to do the story,” she said. “But you have to work a lot harder to make sure your story gets out.”  

    Boyd has always balanced journalism and activism and never backed down from what she believes in. She was Head of Communications for the Irish Refugee Council from 2007 to 2010 and, when working with refugees in Ireland, she used and shared her skills by training refugee women so that their voices could be heard. 

    Her involvement with the Ireland Palestine Solidarity Campaign also demonstrates her belief in using your voice for the right reasons, whether that is in your career or day to day life. 

    Boyd’s dedication to speaking out is not just in a journalistic sense but in everything she does.  

    “Journalism always will matter,” she said, “the truth obviously really matters, and finding the truth often takes a lot of time and energy.”  

    Her approach to journalism is very layered. “I would have aligned a lot with women from the Global South,” Boyd said. “I interviewed Nawal el Saadawi, a very well-known Egyptian feminist who had been campaigning against FGM in the 80s.”  

    Her work never just skimmed the surface or the news agenda: Boyd dug deep, connecting human’s personal experiences to broader social and political struggles and issues.  

    In recent years, Boyd has been increasingly vocal about emerging challenges in Irish media and society. The rise of far-right narratives, the treatment of immigrants, and the systematic marginalization of people of colour are not just news stories for her, they are urgent calls to action. 

    “I think there’s an amazing opportunity for good journalism today in Ireland,” she said. “How do we communicate with each other on these topics? Because a lot of it’s just shouting. There’s no real communication.” 

    Her advice to young journalists is both valuable and inspirational. “If you’re going to be a journalist, you need to be engaged. You can’t just switch off from the realities happening around you.”  

    Boyd retired from her role as a lecturer in TU Dublin last year, but in her time there she inspired and taught a generation of journalists by showing them that their work is not just a profession, but a responsibility.  

    Boyd’s students had firsthand accounts in something invaluable, especially because it was reporting at times that some were not around for.  

    “I always like to say to people who weren’t around then, to remember that there was huge resistance in Ireland at that time.” 

    Boyd highlights this important fact because the students were the next generation at the sidelines of history unfolding.  

    Her motivation remains unchanged, even after retirement, as Boyd still speaks out in what she believes in, “It’s my DNA… I have to do it.”  

    In a world where the tensions rise higher every day Róisín Boyd continues to use her voice. 

    Her legacy is not just in the stories she’s told, but in the countless journalists she has inspired to see their work as a form of resistance. 

    In the words of Boyd, “Journalism is about finding the truth, no matter how difficult the journey.” 

  • Barry Heneghan discusses his political journey and plans for remaining government tenure 

    Barry Heneghan discusses his political journey and plans for remaining government tenure 

    Barry Heneghan is a 27-year-old independent TD for Dublin Bay North, elected in the 2024 Irish general election on his first attempt.  

    A graduate from both Belvedere college and DCU, Heneghan graduated with a master’s in mechanical engineering focusing on sustainable energy systems.  

    In an interview with The City, Heneghan discussed his political journey, his aspirations for the rest of his current tenure and his decision to support the Government as an independent. 

    “I saw how slow things could be in politics and I thought that I could speed up this process. My friend’s mother was diagnosed with cancer, and I made a portrait of Che Guevara in the style of Jim Fitzpatrick. When I brought it to her, by chance Finian McGrath was visiting and asked who made the portrait as he wanted one. This was around a month before the local elections (2024), and we just got to chatting, he mentioned that Damien O’Farrell was thinking of retiring, so there was the option of getting both their backing (McGrath and O’Farrell), we talked on key points of focus and he asked if I was willing to run with his help,” said Heneghan.  

    “-I always thought that I would be good for it, and then we ran a 4-week campaign ending up getting 2,450 votes (2,452), the highest that any independent got in the Dublin local election at that time. The general election was also looming, so there was an option there. Some people did say it was a bit cheeky to go straight for it, but if you think that you can represent the people the best, then you give them that option. I was hoping I could get the fifth seat and I ended up getting the fourth, but it will be a different game the next time if you look at the transfers I got.”

    (Barry Heneghan, middle right, outside of Leinster House. Provided by: Barry Heneghan) 

    Discussing his first year in office, Heneghan offered insights into the juggling act between working and speaking in the Dáil, as well as working with and for his constituents in the sprawling Dublin Bay North area.  

    “The days and weeks are jam packed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays we’re in here (Dáil Éireann) and then Mondays and Fridays were doing a lot of stuff in the constituency. I’m launching my clinics, were trying to get 7 locations in north Dublin. Initially I had an office for my first 8 months, but it had no signage, didn’t have my name you know compared to down the country, TDs would have their name for their constituency office.” 

    “For my constituency I want to have clinics in Baldoyle, Howth, Darndale, Coolock, Artane, Clontarf, Sutton, Kilbarrack, and Marino. If I can rotate clinics Mondays and Fridays and maybe a Saturday every so often up in Belmayne, it’s good to get people to meet you one on one. One thing I would not like in four years’ time when I’m going for re-election is for someone to say, “oh I never seen you”, so I want to be more visible. Social media is one thing (for visibility), but there’s an elderly cohort that wouldn’t see that, some people don’t have that access, and that’s what these clinics are for.”  

    Dublin Bay North’s demographical profile shows that Heneghan is correct in his aim for more visibility for older people, as 17.1% of voters are over 65, compared to the state average of 13.4%. Heneghan also named all of Dublin Bay North’s major settlements (Except Fairview) in his list for future clinics in the area, a sign of his knowledge of the area and his commitment to inclusion for the entire community. 

    “As long as I can continue to help people and think that my office and my team would offer people in north Dublin the best option to represent them, then I would seek re-election, or renewing my contract. I like to say that politics is like a contract, so you can see what I’m trying to do, be it climate change, energy, housing, childcare, disabilities, gaeilge, Dublin Bay itself, and if I can go back to people and say ‘well I done this, I helped with this’, if you don’t break your contract of the things you set out to do then people will be happy with you. In turn, hopefully they don’t break the contract for you.”- 

    “It’s always risky as a Government-supporting independent, people won’t always be happy with it, but when you see key issues that I wanted done being done, for example Gaelcholáiste Reachrann’s permanent building just went to tender, and while every TD will claim ownership, it was a joint achievement in the chamber and one of my key priorities. People elected me to get as much as possible done, this is how you get as much as possible done.” 

    “There are some issues that the Government do that I don’t agree with, but, I would rather have an ear to the ministers, have access to their offices, and be able to work with them. We had a meeting with the housing minister, before the housing plan that was just announced, where I expressed my key issues for disabilities, for the accessibility officer for Dublin City Council, and for the modular homes and flats. If I had of went in with the opposition, I wouldn’t have had that meeting, I wouldn’t be able to help people who get on to me. I had a decision, ‘do I want a long political career, sounding good, but getting nothing done, or the possibility of not getting re-elected, but being as affective as possible and having a short political career’ and I preferred the latter.”- 

    “The social economics of the constituency vary a lot, we have areas that are severely under pressure in terms of service, and people are looking for those services. One of the things I would love to see would be better support for youth who have left school, the crown paints site which as we know now is not going to be used as an IPAS centre, I would want even half of that to be for mental health and disabilities and also to have maybe the other half as a trade school, people who aren’t suited for school, can be the perfect mind for trades, these young people who may leave school early, then fall into the wrong side of life, but if you give the them support at the start of their life and say ‘hey there’s two roads you can go down, either the wrong road or you can go down a road where you can really make a good life for yourself’, you know the country already has a lack of tradesmen and women, if we can show people that they can go into these trades, this would be something I’d love to see for North Dublin.”-