Carl O'Brien: ‘Jonathan Anderson shows passion - not CAO points - is what matters'

Growing up, says Jonathan Anderson, the idea of becoming a fashion designer seemed far-fetched.
'I remember at school the list of careers was a doctor, a dentist or a lawyer. Becoming an actor or a designer felt like you would be going into a line of poverty,' he told the Gloss a few years ago.
His scenic route into fashion took him via the National Youth Theatre, into drama school in Washington until he returned home and got a job at Brown Thomas in Dublin as a merchandiser for Prada.
Irish designer Jonathan Anderson appears on the catwalk during the Paris Fashion Week.
The Derryman was recently named as creative director of both men's and women's couture at Christian Dior, one of the world's most prestigious fashion houses. He is the first person since Dior himself to steer both couture lines at the same time.
READ MORE
As Leaving Certs complete their final exams, it can be a powerful and sometimes overwhelming moment of transition.
Anderson shows you don't need to have it all figured out. Choosing passion over pressure to conform is a useful life lesson. CAO courses do not have to be the be-all and end-all. A passion for what make you tick and gives you a sense of purpose is key.
This week, we'll be exploring the various pathways for schools leavers – PLCs, apprenticeships, traineeships, tertiary degrees and the CAO; there are genuinely are more pathways than ever for students to explore.
Further education
Learning styles at third level are very different from those associated with the traditional Leaving Cert. One in five students do not progress to second year of college – and the numbers dropping out are on the rise.
Yet, students who opt to apply for a one year further education level five programme in their local Education Training Board (ETB) college in the area are, in many ways, doubly advantaged.
If they secure sufficiently high grades in their Post Leaving Cert (PLC) course, they may well be offered a place in their preferred CAO course irrespective of the Leaving Cert points score they previously secured.
Secondly, their experience of acquiring self-directed learning skills in small class groups can help them successfully make the transition to the learning style required to succeed at our third level. (In fact, dropout rates among college students who completed PLC courses are lower than students entering via the traditional CAO round one route.)
Check the
Further Education Course Hub
(Fetch courses) to expand students' horizons.
Places are allocated by each individual college and applications are available online on each of their websites. There is no deadline, but all places are allocated on a first come first served basis, based on suitability.
Exams
It was a quiet day on the Leaving Cert front with
Mandarin Chinese
and
agricultural science
among the subjects examined on Monday.
Both had challenging moments, say teachers, but provided a fair test overall.
Up tomorrow for Leaving Certs it's Spanish (9.30-12.30pm) and Chemistry (2-5pm).
Meanwhile, we'll be back tomorrow with a look at one of the best-kept secrets of the education world: tertiary degrees.

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Irish Times

2 hours ago

• Irish Times

Zach Bryan in Phoenix Park: Plenty of welly as yeehaw comes to Dublin

Zach Bryan Phoenix Park, Dublin ★★★★☆ Yeehaw arrived in the Phoenix Park on Friday night for the first of Zach Bryan 's three shows this weekend and there was plenty of welly given from all involved. The American country singer-songwriter and rock musician played to a sold-out crowd of 60,000, with a lot of cowboy hats and boots, lace, denim and fringes in attendance. In fact, the vibe was perfectly summed up by two people behind us on the 50-ish minute walk in from the Heuston Luas stop: 'If you look out, you just see a crowd of people,' the woman says, 'and they all look the same.' A man replies: 'Even the lads – all in T-shirts and shorts – and there's always someone too drunk to get in.' In fairness, the scorching weather certainly called for shorts and the boho-cowboy look many of the women were going for, combined with the sticky heat, gave the lengthy stroll down Chesterfield Avenue a feeling of the US music festival Coachella, which takes place in the desert. READ MORE Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times Days after the death of Henry Mount Charles , one can't help but be reminded of the long trek through Slane for the many legendary concerts there and, inside, the queues for most food and drink merchants are similar to those of the Meath venue – long, winding and feel as if they are ever-growing. Indeed, one concertgoer remarked that they were in the queue for the bar for an hour. A ticket for Bryan does not come cheap – upwards of €120 at the time of the initial sale and much more now for resale – so spending a lot of that time waiting isn't ideal. Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times That being said, Bryan himself certainly gave fans their money's worth, coming on stage just after 8pm and playing until the 10.30pm curfew. Those at Charli XCX this week in Malahide unfortunately couldn't say the same . His onstage band include trumpets, fiddles, piano, double bass and a multitude of others – most wearing western-style outfits and cowboy hats, which all tied in the howdy vibes perfectly next to Bryan's more subdued short-sleeved shirt and trousers. Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times The Oklahoma man has a real southern charm to him and comes across incredibly endearing as he repeatedly thanks the audience and smiling when they are audibly singing along with the likes of Pink Skies – which some may recognise from TikTok – and Something in the Orange, in particular. He offers some titbits from his life between the songs while sipping on a can of Budweiser. Bryan's songs also carry a deep romance to them, reflected in the crowd with couples hugging and swaying together. There is swinging and dancing during the livelier ones too, such as Nine Ball and the encore's Revival. The show's visuals are effective, too, and change throughout the set. Expect all the bells and whistles at the end in the form of fireworks. Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times Overall, it's a charming performance filled with references to good old American culture, without all of the politics. Bryan really feels like the Garth Brooks of the next generation – though he'd probably qualify for a cooler comparison of Bruce Springsteen. If you're heading to the show tonight or tomorrow, make sure to drink a lot of water – as Bryan himself had to stop the show to make sure a fan was okay after an incident reminding the crowd of the very same message. And maybe leave the cowboy boots at home as there were many soiled socks on the way home as the footwear became too unbearable for the long journey in and out.

The Journal

4 hours ago

• The Journal

It's a busy weekend of sport and music in Dublin - here's what's on, and how to get there

IT LOOKS SET to be a warm and sunny weekend in Dublin – so it's a good thing that there's lots to do across the city. Between a range of concerts, GAA, rugby and even some protests, here's all that's going on across Dublin today and tomorrow. Any good concerts on? US country music star Zach Bryan graced the stage at the Phoenix Park last night, and is set to played two more busy gigs today and tomorrow. The concert today is completely sold out, but at the time of writing, there are a limited number of tickets available for the Sunday show. Those looking to head to the gig are best off getting a bus, as parking is extremely limited. All of the following Dublin Bus routes serve the park: 26, 38b, 39, and 70. Across the city, the hit Irish band Kingfishr will play a sold-out show at Fairview Park this evening. Those heading to the gig can get the train from Pearse, Tara or Connolly stations to Clontarf Road. A number of Dublin bus routes also serve the park, including the 15, 27, 42, 123 and H lines. Rolling road closures and traffic delays are expected near the Phoenix Park and Fairview Park for the concerts, gardaí have said. What about sport? Gaelic football fans are in for a treat this weekend with an important double header is scheduled for Croke Park on Sunday. Advertisement Both of the Tailteann Cup semi-finals will take place – Wicklow will face off against Limerick at 2pm, while Fermanagh clash with Kildare at 4pm. Tickets are still available for the fixtures. Those planning on heading to Croker can do so by train (to Drumcondra or Clontarf Road) or Dublin Bus. Drivers, be advised that gardaí will close a number of roads around Croke Park on Sunday afternoon. (We're well aware that there's a lot more sporting events on across the country, including the highly anticipated Donegal rally, and this is a very Dublin-centric article – but it's a particularly busy weekend in Dublin!) Protests Sunday will also see rolling closures across the city centre, due to two major public gatherings – including an anti-immigration demostration and a counter-protest. Both demonstrations are due to take place on Sunday afternoon, and those travelling to or through Dublin tomorrow are advised to anticipate rolling road closures, which will have a likely effect on public transport such as LUAS and Dublin Bus services. Gardaí and Dublin City Council will provide live traffic updates via social media. As more people are expected into the city this weekend, the public transport network as well as roads in and around the city centre will be busy - gardaí and Dublin City Council have also urged the public plan journeys in advance. Irish Rail will run extra services, including late-night trains from Heuston to Cork, Limerick, Galway, and Belfast after each Phoenix Park concert. Additional commuter trains will serve the Maynooth and Drogheda lines. Dublin Bus is diverting multiple routes (including 11, 26, 37, 38, 69) due to concert traffic and roadworks — check @dublinbusnews for live updates. Luas users should plan ahead - Heuston and Museum (Red Line) are closest to the park, though Heuston will close post-concert. Broombridge on the Green Line is also nearby. Readers like you are keeping these stories free for everyone... A mix of advertising and supporting contributions helps keep paywalls away from valuable information like this article. Over 5,000 readers like you have already stepped up and support us with a monthly payment or a once-off donation. Learn More Support The Journal

Irish Times

5 hours ago

• Irish Times

Living with a top chef: ‘We don't have a dishwasher. It's me. I am the dishwasher'

Living with a chef sounds like it should come with perfectly torched mackerel, a fridge full of jarred ferments, and someone whispering 'umami' over your Tuesday lunch. In reality? It's a lifetime as an unpaid kitchen porter, avoiding knives that come with rules, and knowing exactly when to leave the room. But, yes – the food is excellent. 'He's always giving out to me for not using enough butter' Catherine Dundon on Kevin Dundon, executive chef at Dunbrody House Hotel Kevin and Catherine Dundon 'If you're foostering around and taking too long, or maybe on the phone while you're getting dinner, it will be, 'Oh Jesus, just get out of the way and I'll do it myself,'' says Catherine Dundon, who runs Dunbrody House Hotel with her husband, Kevin. 'He's the same with the kids. He'd be nearly over their shoulder going, 'Would you not do it this way?' And they're like, 'I'm 25. I don't need you over my shoulder.' And then we just say, 'Okay, well do it yourself.' He knows he could have it done in 10 minutes flat, and it's taken us half an hour. He often just loses patience and says, 'No, no, no. Just give it to me here.' And I've absolutely no problem with that, I'll just pour myself a glass of wine,' she laughs. It may sound like a dictatorship, but the domestic arrangement is a collaboration, albeit one with battlefield rules. They both cook – Kevin in full chef mode, with butter and cream, using every pot in the kitchen, Catherine with a one-pot shepherd's pie. 'He's always giving out to me for not using enough butter,' she says. 'He'd be turning his nose up at my mashed potatoes.' READ MORE When Kevin cooks for the family, it's not tweezers and dots of sauce. It's big hitters: 'amazing carbonara,' passed on to the kids who now make it for their friends, legendary Yorkshire puddings, and roast pork with crackling. Christmas Day is a solo performance. 'He will do the entire thing, but always, it's: 'Would everybody please leave the kitchen and leave me alone?'' No one's complaining – everyone sits down, every night, and Sundays are sacred. 'Does he let me touch his knives? No' JoJo Sun on Barry Sun, chef/patron of Volpe Nera Ian, Jojo, Barry and Emma Sun. Photograph Nick Bradshaw People assume it's fine dining on demand. 'You're so lucky,' the school mums say. And I say 'No. He doesn't cook that often,'' says JoJo. It's not nightly haute cuisine, but JoJo knows how to work the system. 'If I want something, I ask the kids to ask him. And every time the kids ask him, he will do it,' she says. Especially their youngest – a nine-year-old fish fanatic who eats every type of fish and seafood. 'He thinks his dad's tastes better. Even if I cook the same thing.' When Barry cooks, it's not about theatre. 'He doesn't follow recipes. He can just make it work,' says JoJo. 'He'll clean a little bit. Then disappear.' Offers to take the bins out are made while backing out of the kitchen. He's not a tyrant, though. 'He likes the chat. If he's cooking, he likes people around.' But like most chefs, his kitchen kit is off-limits. 'Does he let me touch his knives? No. But they look scary. They're so sharp,' she says. She's fine with her own cheaper set. Living with a chef is all about balance, she says. 'Barry works 10 or 12 hours a day in the restaurant so I don't expect him to come home and start scrubbing. You marry a chef – you just need to be real.' 'She says I'm always in the way' Dave Murphy on Jess Murphy, executive chef at Kai Dave Murphy and Jess Murphy of Kai in Galway. Photograph: Nathalie Marquez Courtney Jess Murphy doesn't just cook at home – she takes over. She occupies the kitchen like it's a war zone and the utensils are under siege. She may run one of Ireland's best kitchens, but at home, she leaves a trail like a one-woman catering bomb. Jess uses every pot in the kitchen. Dave washes them. He's been a kitchen porter for 25 years. He does the chef whites – washed, dried, folded. He cooks breakfast. He makes jacket potatoes and beans. He also knows when to quietly exit the kitchen. He's not allowed to help. 'She says I'm always in the way.' So he loiters. Offers moral support. Holds a peeler if asked. The knives are completely off-limits. There are two racks – serious stuff, including a pair of Fingal Fergusons and a Damascus steel blade he once dared to wash after a glass of wine or two. He sliced his finger open. Lesson learned. He hasn't touched it since. When Jess cooks at home, it's not just dinner – it's a continuation of service. There are no shortcuts, no half-measures, and certainly no recipes. The pantry is rammed with jars that have long since lost their labels, yuzu paste, fermented black bean sauce, and a rotating cast of odd condiments picked up over the years. One night it's lasagne. The next, donburi. Or maybe she's in the kitchen for hours making bagels from scratch. He doesn't complain. This is the rhythm of their life – Kai by day, chaos by night. Jess doesn't let up just because she's off duty. She never really is. 'There are definitely perks to being married to a chef,' Dave says. 'Jess could be doing a photo shoot at home and I could be eating a turkey and ham dinner in August.' 'It all works out,' he says. Or, as he puts it: 'I wash the knives, I shut up, and I eat well.' 'She cooks, I do the dishes' Arielle Agusto on Daniela Dullius, sous chef at Mae Daniela Dullius and Arielle Agusto. Photograph: Chris Maddaloni She may be married to a chef, but most nights, it's Agusto at the stove. She makes enough for both of them – so there's food ready when Dani gets home late from the restaurant. Her go-to is a curry she learned how to make from an Indian colleague. When Dullius is off, the energy shifts. She might cook two or three times a week. And when she does, she goes all in. They're both from Brazil, but left in their early 20s. Now, in their 30s and living in Dublin, dinner is a mix of Brazilian staples, the food they grew up with, and things picked up along the way, in the US and Ireland. 'She likes to do it all herself,' says Agusto. 'She just says, 'I got it.' I'll occasionally help. I didn't work as a professional chef like her, but I did work in kitchens before. So sometimes I'll cut something, you know, to contribute somehow.' Agusto says Dullius is a tidy chef, who cleans as she goes and the mess is minimal. But she doesn't stick around. 'Whatever she cooks, I do the dishes. We don't have a dishwasher, so it's me. I am the dishwasher.' And then there are the nights where none of it happens. When Dullius walks in the door, drops her bag, and doesn't want to look at a pan. That's when the takeaway routine kicks in. Deliveroo on speed dial – spice bags, Chinese, Indian – anything that shows up fast and doesn't require effort. 'I am the kitchen porter' Ciara Donnelly on Eric Matthews, executive chef and co-owner of Kicky's Ciara Donnelly and Eric Matthews. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill 'He told me early on, 'I'm going to cook for you because it's just going to taste better,'' says Ciara Donnelly. Her mother, a former chef, was delighted. 'You'll never have to cook again.' And she was right – Donnelly hasn't lifted a spatula since. What she does lift is every pot in the kitchen. 'He forgets he doesn't have a kitchen porter – I am the kitchen porter.' He trashes the place, then gets annoyed it's messy. 'He's militant at work, clean-as-you-go. But at home it's mess everywhere and he's the one who made it.' Technology winds him up. He hates induction hobs. 'He just can't use them.' Same goes for ovens, especially when he's baking. 'If something's not right, it's always, 'It's not me – it's the oven.'' He's particular. Very. If she buys dried herbs, she's in trouble. 'He's all about fresh, fresh, fresh. We go foraging for wild garlic. Normal people go to the shop.' There are no tantrums, but he does need total control. 'Even if it's just a Sunday roast, he becomes the most important person in the room. You just get out of the way.' He's made her eat some questionable things. 'Sea urchin pasta – neither of us liked it.' She's drawn the line at kangaroo, which Eric's had on his travels. 'I'm not fussy, but I don't want to be freaked out.' Once he brought home live spider crabs, then left to get ingredients. 'They tried to escape while I was on a team call.' When he cooks, it's slow stuff – roasts, ragù, Thai. 'Things he doesn't make at work.' Sometimes he preps the sauce at the restaurant and brings it home. If he's too tired, they order takeaway from Sam Sab Thai. It's a relaxed dinner. 'We eat in front of the TV. We talk to people all day. We just want to sit down.' 'I clean as she goes. It's a full-time job' Michael Giolla Mhuire on Gráinne Mullins, pastry chef and owner of Grá Chocolates Gráinne Mullins and Michael Giolla Mhuire 'She wants to control the entire kitchen, everything that's going on,' says Giolla Mhuire. 'If I try to get involved too much or suggest something – like how she's cooking a steak or charring broccoli – I'm told to go sit in the livingroom.' This isn't a one-off performance – it's every night. 'She rings me every morning on the way to work to ask what cuisine I fancy. Asian? Right. She'll spend all day thinking about it. Maybe pop into the Asian store on her lunch break. It could be noodles. Duck and gratin. Sweet and sour with rice. Lentil curry with home-made chutney, coriander, yoghurt sauce – and she bakes the naan herself.' He loves it. But sometimes he just wants goujons and chips. 'She's like, 'No. That's unhealthy.'' Takeaway? Doesn't happen. 'I'm from the city – I love a Chinese, a proper Indian. If she's away on a work trip, I go all out. Six dishes. She says, 'But Mikey, mine would be nicer.' And I'm like, 'I want it in a silver foil container, in a brown paper bag, and I want to eat it on the couch.'' There are no shortcuts. 'It's extravagant. The amount of food she buys, the quality, the prep. All of it from scratch. Honestly, it's like being in a fine dining restaurant every night. Sometimes it's too much – because we never get to sit down. She's still cooking.' And it's not just the food. It's the mess. 'The amount of utensils, jars, sauces, condiments, microplanes – it's all over the place. I clean as she goes, constantly. It's a full-time job. I'm the KP. Just not officially.'