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In Nobody Needs This, a brand-new 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.
I FELT TRUE empathy this week for my friends who are parents. The kids were off school again, for mid-term, apparently.
Mams and dads all around me were trying to hold down their jobs while frisbeeing their children into camps and play dates, shaking their fists at the sky and crying, “Wasn’t it just Easter two minutes ago?”. Certainly to me, a person who is rarely at the mercy of the school calendar, it feels like it was only yesterday, especially since I’m still reeling from the realisation that we’ve allowed yet another daft concept to infiltrate our shores: Easter baskets.
Easter in Ireland used to mean something. Resistance, rebellion, sacrifice.
At the very least it meant summoning the willpower to wait until Easter Sunday to devour your Smarties egg and get your hands on the accompanying and coveted Smarties mug for the very first time.
Over the past few Easters, and indeed around every major observance or occasion, it has become clear that we have gone soft.
Just as we allowed that insidious rat The Elf on the Shelf and the pastel-hued scourge of the baby shower to migrate across the Atlantic, we’re allowing our festivities to become what we once loathed: fierce American.
Easter bunting, summer wreaths, Christmas bin-liners.
At this stage I wouldn’t be surprised to walk into a supermarket and see St Patrick’s Day dishwasher tablets or Palm Sunday tampons.
Maybe the most egregious of all are the doormats.
How have we, as a society, got to a point where we feel the need to rotate the item we wipe dog shite on according to the seasons? Why are people perusing the middle aisles or the euro stores and musing, “Oh, fantastic, I was just thinking I need a ‘Happy June’ mat for the porch”?
Furthermore, where are they keeping all of this tat?
At least the mid-western Americans whose social media feeds are bleeding this consumerism into our brains have vast, beige homes with basements and attics and three-car garages in which to store their various giant tubs of holiday decorations.
Where is Siobhán from Gorey keeping her Halloween garlands and Valentine’s toilet roll? On top of the wardrobe with the nearly full 10-litre tub of magnolia paint and the foot spa?
Not to be too “I remember when all this was fields” about it, but I’m nostalgic for a time when Hallowe’en was a black sack and a mask that smelled of lead paint and trapped a sheen of condensation between itself and the delicate skin of the child wearing it.
I remember when a birthday or BBQ could take place without an appropriately themed napkin or set of plates. I long for the days before Irish parents were putting together Easter baskets to present their children with.
Did our 1916 heroes really die so that little Emily and Hayden could become disinterested in rabbit zogabongs and a baby chick plushie in under three minutes?
The year-round TikTok and Instagram trends are convincing us that in order to create precious memories our children must be constantly celebrating something and Irish retailers have cottoned on to this.
So, we have Christmas boxes and Confirmation napkins and baby cake-smashing videos, all requiring an €86 Penneys dash for landfill-bound junk and 17 videos for the feed.
As we bed into Communion season, I’m already seeing the content which truly – and presumably unintentionally – solidifies the idea that our little girls are marrying God; tabernacle-themed sweet tables, seating plans adorned with body of Christ clipart, cupcakes in the shape of a cross.
Please, if you must partake in the religious rites, do it without a Holy Spirit balloon arch. The Earth is dying.
… is revisiting media from the not-too-distant past.
TikTokker Sammy Sage found a digital camera in a second-hand shop in Connecticut, still with its SD card. She uncovered a treasure trove of photos and videos of Obama campaign events pre-2008 election win, including the night of his first infamous “yes we can” speech in New Hampshire.
Sammy Sage says “this discovery serves as a unique reminder of how objects can hold forgotten stories and how a simple thrift store find can unlock moments of historical significance and personal nostalgia”.
… sticking with photography, the Taylor Wessing Irish Photo Prize 2026 exhibition is now available to view online and in person, while the winners will be in conversation at a live, free event at Photo Museum Ireland in Temple Bar on Tuesday 12 May.
The website of Photo Museum Ireland is a great place for going down a few rabbit holes. I particularly love the Photo Album of the Irish project, which spent several years collecting images from the personal collections of Irish people and the diaspora.
During awards season Heated Rivalry star Hudson Williams strutted the Oscars red carpet in 35-degree temperatures waving a bijou battery powered fan in front of his face to ward off the appearance of a SULA (sweaty upper lip area).
With summer approaching (hopefully) and as a woman of a certain age, I applaud a man in his 20s normalising the use of a little fan in all walks of life. Here’s a breakdown from The Guardian about some of the best ones out there while New York Magazine has pitted the Shark against the Dyson.
Substack posts by great Irish writers, including Naoise Dolan on “hot girl writers” and
IKEA’s betrayal of Bauhaus (shoutout to the title of her newsletter, Naois Content), and Aisling Marron on her final few months living in New York with her young family before moving back to Dublin.
This Reddit thread from r/SipsTea about the practicalities of a four-day work week.
An Esquire long read about life as a sex worker in a Nevada brothel.
Irish users of Vinted, the online marketplace, have a unique connection to French sellers meaning shoppers from both countries can buy and sell from each other.
However, the chic and stylish French would put years on you.
They want you nose to gusset with the jeans you’re trying to flog, measuring to the exact millimetre with a calliper. Then they offer you €4 when the asking price is €18.
If only their items weren’t so French and leather and sublime.
It’s reality TV. It’s produced by the network behind the Housewives franchises. And it’s one of the best things on TV. Summer House is in its 10th season and consistently secures a cast of smart, funny and yes, at times unbearable 20-40-somethings who escape the New York city heat for weekends in The Hamptons. In recent months it’s been caught up in a love-triangle scandal which means when the end-of-season reunion episodes air in the coming weeks, it’s going to be everywhere.
It airs on Hayu in Ireland every Wednesday and if you go back and watch earlier seasons, Des Bishop makes an appearance.
Emer will be back next Friday morning with more recommendations.
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