From Father Ted to Riverdance to slow sets at the disco, and all of it pre-social media, author Caragh Bell pays homage to the golden era of her childhood as she prepares to relive it all over again in Skibbereen...
When I heard that the theme of this year’s Skibbereen Arts Festival was the 90s, it was like someone pressed play on a long-lost mixtape in my brain.
Memories flooded back: Ace of Base blasting on my Walkman as I cycled to Tragumna for a swim, Welcome Home Week in Skibbereen with the Dome and Maid of the Isles, and playing Tetris in the games room of the Busy Bee.
For those of us who were teenagers then, it wasn’t just a decade. It was our era. Italia ‘90 was a patriotic beginning.
That summer, I was ten years old. We were camping in the south of France when all the Irish congregated in the campsite bar, cheering ‘Olé, Olé, Olé’ when Packie Bonner saved the penalty.
Strangers hugged, people wept. I didn’t really understand it then, but I soaked up the feeling of national pride and brandished my flag of green, white and gold.
Jack Charlton’s team gave Ireland a sense of unity that transcended class, age, and politics. It anchored us as a nation, bonded by passion and hope.
Riverdance in 1994 created a similar national sentiment. When Michael Flatley and Jean Butler leapt onto the stage in Millstreet, it was bold, breath-taking and, frankly, awesome.
The world took notice and the rest is history.
Where Italia 90 instilled pride, Riverdance gave us power. It showcased all the beauty and mysticism of our country, casting aside the quaint image of leprechauns and pots of gold.
The message was clear: Irish culture was noble and ancient, proud and triumphant. Something that was world-class.
MTV was the pulsing neon heart of everything cool in the 90s.
Music videos were dramatic narratives that were often more memorable than the song itself.
Remember Macaulay Culkin in Michael Jackson’s Black and White video? Or the Spice Girls singing into the camera in one take, telling us how they want to zig-a-zig-ah?
MTV showed us that we belonged to something bigger. It was the voice of a generation who wanted to change things up and make their own mark.
Teenager Caragh Bell back in the 90s.
Music wise, the 90s saw the rise in popularity of grunge, Britpop, girl power and boybands.
Nirvana burst onto the scene bringing music that mattered, giving a voice to the frustrations and disillusionment of Generation X.
Kurt Cobain was the voice for the misfits: those who didn’t quite belong. When he tragically died, it was our loss.
Kurt and his teen spirit belonged to us.
The local town hall discos were legendary with DJ Disc Drive (Billy Flaherty) playing the popular tunes of the time.
Rhythm really was a dancer as we jumped around, headbanged to Metallica, sang Hallelujah, all dressed in our jeans, flannel shirts and Doc Marten boots.
Tinder didn’t exist so we had a different courtship ritual.
The boys and the girls would stand at opposite sides of the hall until the famous slow set: three love songs ranging from Bryan Adams to Céline Dion.
If you didn’t get asked to dance during those ballads, romance was not on the cards. Everyone understood the code.
Going to the cinema was a day out in those days as there was no streaming or dodgy boxes.
The only way to see a new release was to travel to The Capitol Cinema in Cork. Movies like Goodfellas, The Shawshank Redemption, Forrest Gump, Home Alone, Titanic, and Pulp Fiction defined an era.
Who didn’t fall in love with a young Leonardo di Caprio as a broody Romeo? I remember moshing to Bohemian Rhapsody in the back of the car like Wayne and Garth, and gasping at the plot twist in The Sixth Sense.
Television was also iconic in the 90s. Binge watching didn’t exist so you had to wait a whole week for the next episode of your favourite show.
I was 14 when Friends hit our screens. I jumped up and down when Ross and Rachel kissed for the first time.
I groaned when she found ‘The List’. I screamed when Monica’s head popped up from under the duvet in London.
Father Ted was another classic. The lovely girls, the Holy Stone of Clonrichert, My Lovely Horse.
Controversial and brilliant. The teenage TV show My So-Called Life left a particular mark on me: Jordan Catalano was my teenage crush and I wish brilliantly written shows like that could be replicated for teenagers in our current context.
The greatest aspect of the 90s was the absence of social media. No likes or followers, no tagging and, crucially, no evidence.
Instead, we passed notes in class, made friendship bracelets, and called to each other’s houses to hang out without texting first.
If you arranged to meet someone at a certain time, you were there.
If you had to ring home, you’d insert 20p into a payphone on the street.
There was a freedom that doesn’t exist today. An authenticity to it all – pre-internet, pre-filters, pre-expectation.
We made mistakes in relative privacy and didn’t need to prove our fun by posting about it. We lived fully in the moment even if we didn’t realise it at the time.
To say that I can’t wait for the 90s street party is an understatement. I’ll be there, decked out in a costume, revisiting my adolescence. As long as I can still rap the theme tune of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, I’ll be fine.
That’s a life skill I’ll never lose.
Caragh Bell, is a teacher and author from Skibbereen who has published seven novels. She teaches English and French at Sacred Heart in Clonakilty. She contributes regularly to magazines and newspapers and produces the SHSS Podcast. Caragh has been praised by Jilly Cooper as ‘a beautiful writer’. Skibbereen Arts Festival runs from July 25th to August 3rd. See www.skibbereenartsfestival.com for more details.
