In Nobody Needs This, a series for The Journal, Emer McLysaght focuses her eagle eye on the trends, products and notions we can do without. It’s not all giving out, however. She’ll also be keeping up with what’s catching her attention, keeping people interested and, quite frankly, driving her mad.

‘SURE, WHO’LL BE looking at you?’

and

‘You’re not a snowman, you won’t melt’

These are two of my mother’s most enduring and spine-forming pieces of advice. The first is efficient at tearing you down and reminding you that nobody cares a jot what you’re doing and especially what you look like. In the same breath, ‘sure, who’ll be looking at you?’ is the ultimate confidence builder, giving you the courage to do whatever you’ve set your mind to without the fear that anyone might be judging.

‘You won’t melt’ is an essential mantra for anybody living in a climate as damp and humid as Ireland. Okay, so we got a bit of a summer (the hottest since records began in fact) in July and August, but it’s hard to believe this is the same island that was forced to implement a hosepipe ban 53 days ago. Difficult as it may be to believe, given the appalling turn the weather has taken in recent weeks, Ireland is nowhere near the wettest country on Earth. We tend to hover somewhere in the low 80s in the worldwide rankings by mm of precipitation, alongside the likes of Paraguay, Croatia and Bolivia. However, what we lack in centimetres and inches we make up for in frequency, drizzle and the infernal ‘showers’.

You would think, with such a propensity for rain, that we Irish would be on top of our game when it comes to outerwear. When tourists come to visit they are often rigged out in Gore-Tex and horrifically sensible footwear, ready for the deluge. The Italians especially love to besmirch our sunny days by wearing winter coats and scarves while ebullient Dubs swan around topless.

I’m of the belief though that in a country so dominated by the ‘four seasons in a day’ phenomenon, fancy raingear is a waste of time. It can claim to be as breathable as it wants, but I have yet to meet a raincoat that isn’t a swizz. Ireland is simply too changeable and humid (thanks to our island status and our old friend, the North Atlantic Drift*) to endure the sweatiness that comes with encasing oneself in waterproof gear. Sure, you can carry a nice raincoat around with you, but by the time you have it on the shower has probably stopped. Anyway, in the same way you might get called Abraham Lincoln or Slash by a stranger for wearing a hat on a sunny day, an ostentatious raincoat might draw accusations of an Everest summit attempt.

At Electric Picnic last weekend, the weather was one of the main topics of conversation. It rained so much that my pal asked for a refund on the weather spell she’d purchased from a witch on Etsy. The prevailing cover-up of choice was the old reliable: the plastic poncho. Far be it from me to be encouraging the use of plastic but any Irish person worth their salt knows they can get longevity out of a ‘disposable’ poncho if they treat it well. My pal had to ban her husband from packing his old reliable Emerald Park poncho for fear of making a show of us. I have a Childline poncho that I purchased at a CMAT concert in 2024 that’s still going strong. I paid €10 for it but can’t call it out as a swizz because it was for charity. Gone are the days when you’d get a radio station or mobile phone branded poncho for free.

It was wet at Electric Picnic, but it wasn’t cold. When Gorillaz took to the stage on Saturday night Damon Albarn complained that his melodica keys were sticking because of the humidity. You couldn’t have been going round like Roald Amundsen, you’d have been sweltering. On the Sunday I did pull out my decent raincoat (a Helly Hansen fishing jacket, thank you very much) and endured an evening of sensory nightmare as the bare skin on my arms created a sweaty soup against the lining of the coat. I should never have forsaken my trusty poncho.

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Look, if you’re climbing Carrauntoohil or spend most of your time outdoors or need a full rain set for cycling, that’s all well and good. However, nobody needs a dedicated fancy raincoat in Ireland despite it being the 81st wettest place in the world. You won’t melt. And don’t get me started on umbrellas. The greatest swizz of them all.

Currently reading:

• This Elle article about women leaving their husbands over Heated Rivalry
• Among the Thugs by Bill Buford (1991), an American journalism who embedded himself in English football gangs in the eighties and wrote an incredible account of crowd violence and soccer hooliganism
• *Is the Atlantic Ocean’s ‘wobble’ a warning for Ireland? and Maynooth University study finds overstated ocean climate risks to Ireland disrupt future planning

Currently enjoying:

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• The Practical Magic 2 press tour. Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock are quite the double act.
• Eamon Speaks Irish on Instagram, a young man on a mission to get people more confident with their Gaeilge. He’s currently on a Drury Street side quest to get people to order their drinks in Irish. Crucially, he’s not cold-calling takeaways and pestering them to understand his order as Gaeilge. Less of that, please.
• These Texas teachers who’ve become obsessed with Michael D Higgins

Currently listening … to my top acts from Electric Picnic

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• Geese
• Mik Pyro
• Sorcha Richardson
• The Mary Wallopers

Emer will be back next Friday morning with more recommendations.