There has been a noticeable shift in what the cool kids are wearing and doing on our Emerald Isle. Where other trends have been fading in and out at a Shein-like speed, a fixation on cultúr Gaelach has been creeping in slowly but surely, indicating that it will be with us longer than frilly bloomers and biker boots (long may they reign). A surge in Celtic design jewellery and ‘sláinte’ tattoos spotted on Drury Street as of late can be attributed to a melting pot of artists, movements and trends in the media. 

The Irish music scene has produced a variety of exciting new sounds and faces in recent years – and this success is not contained to the homeland. CMAT was recently nominated for the prestigious Mercury Prize, while her beautiful, bum-revealing Brit Awards dress made front page news in the British tabloids. Bambie Thug’s bizarre but brilliant stage presence at Eurovision is an inspiration for the next generation of pagan witchcraft enthusiasts. We have Fontaines D.C. and the hope they give BIMM students. Kojaque, another noteworthy member of the Irish music scene, is also noteworthy in his hotness, says I with journalistic integrity. Kneecap’s provocative rap and hip hop stylings as Gaeilge not only thrill the ket-head Gaelgeoirs of Ireland, but the release of their Oscar-hopeful part-biographical film has also taken hold of the American psyche. Not only have they dramatised what it means to speak Irish in post-Troubles Northern Ireland in a humorous and digestible way for the uninformed viewer, but to the delight of drug dealers nationwide, they have depicted ketamine intake as a worthy pastime.

However, in all seriousness, Kneecap are doing more than promoting drug use, they’re promoting drug use as Gaeilge. The Irish they use in their music and in their film is colloquial and conversational, the Irish that people actually use go laethúil. They’ve disproved the tired rhetoric that Irish is a ‘dead language’ that isn’t used outside of classrooms or in the Gaeltacht, and this is causing a noticeable shift in how Irish is discussed in the media. There is a rise in bilingual musicians, poets, artists, writers and influencers showcasing its versatility without compromising the vigour the language holds. Kneecap and these other prominent Gaelgeoirs have reminded those of us who left Irish behind the moment the Leaving Cert Paper 2 was finished that speaking Irish is a radical anti-colonial act. Referring to it as a “dead” language or the persistent “My Irish teacher in school was really shit” cop-out constitute undeserved dismissals of a rich heritage, one that young people are working to reclaim. Every hand-poked ‘grá’ in a wonky love heart on your forearm is a knife in the side of England and a tribute to our Fenian forefathers. 

Irish patriotism is evident in more than just the exploration of our language as an artistic and political means… and no, I’m not referring to the ‘Ireland is full’ crowd and their fixation with fire. The current devastating war on Gaza and the colonial forces enacting it provokes the Irish conscience and collective memory in a way that it doesn’t for our Western neighbours. Israel’s brutal attack on the Palestinian people supported by overseas funding and enabled by nearly a century of colonial occupation has a familiar ring to Irish ears. The outspoken condemnation of Israel’s actions and wholehearted support for Palestinians and their resistance in Ireland is rooted in our shared cultural experience of occupation. That sense of justice and compassion is a national ideology worth taking pride in.

Now language and patriotism aren’t the only reasons Irish culture is experiencing an aesthetic appreciation as of late. There is, of course, the Paul Mescal and his tiny O’Neills shorts of it all. Ireland in recent years has produced some talented, dare I say it, hotties (see Rhasidat Adeleke at the Paris Olympics as proof). The world thought Jamie Dornan in the Fifty Shades franchise was all we had to give and we, as a nation who hate to disappoint, outdid ourselves. Paul Mescal and Andrew Scott (aka the petite prince of Ireland) won over the hearts of underwhelmed All of Us Strangers audiences with their giddy and infectious press interviews. Nicola Coughlan was undoubtedly the sole heartthrob of the latest season of Bridgerton while her work in Derry Girls is beloved abroad by Americans with subtitles turned on. Barry Keoghan grafted his way to Sabrina Carpenter (?!) while, though arguably less impressively, Cillian Murphy went and won himself an Oscar. Hollywood is so enthralled by our Cillian they manage to interpret his blatant disinterest in interviews as mysterious stoicism. He’ll soon star in the film adaptation of Claire Keegan’s critically acclaimed novella Small Things Like These, following the success of the adaptation of Foster into An Cailín Ciúin. This obsession with Irish actors, such as our beloved Ayo Edebiri, is but one aspect of the focus on Irish storytelling and drama. Martin McDonagh’s award-winning The Banshees of Inisherin and the Booker-nominated novels The Bee Sting by Paul Murray and Prophet Song by Paul Lynch encapsulate the darkness and depth of the Irish imagination but also the humanity and humour with which these themes are conveyed. The Irish psyche is greatly informed by our cultural inheritance, often imparted by the oral tradition and through other storytelling mediums, sean nós songs for instance. 

There is so much cultural and artistic output to celebrate in Ireland and I don’t think it too far-fetched to correlate that with the amount of Claddagh rings on display in Smithfield beer gardens on any given Saturday night. How does one contribute to this moment of Irish celebration in art and media without merely donning a Pellador jumper and inking a wonky harp onto one’s person? It couldn’t hurt to engage with our cultural and historical inheritance or to invest in one’s relationship with ár dteanga dhúchais. To be sure, I plan to take Ayahuasca with Manchán Magan and listen to the land speak the answers to my questions.