Wicklow woman opens new nail salon in Wexford
Loren wanted to ensure everyone felt welcome to come to her studio. 'The amount of people that have said to me: 'Oh you're opening a salon' and assume pink and glitter, but I'm not into all that.'
The nail studio is situated above The Wine Buff on Gorey Main Street and is open from 10am to 5pm Monday to Saturday. Loren spoke about her journey as a nail artist starting in during the COVID pandemic. 'I've always been quite artsy. I started off in my house, believe it or not in my sitting room doing little nails on people and just taking in a few clients' she said.
Loren shared that she started working in a nail salon in October 2024 but felt the urge to have her own studio, which led to her grand venture to Gorey Main Street. Discussing the grand opening of the mysterious salon, Loren said: 'It might not suit everyone, but I think a lot of people are quite excited about it.'
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Irish Independent
12 hours ago
- Irish Independent
Wicklow woman opens new nail salon in Wexford
The studio offers clients with a variety of services including nail, eyelash and eyebrow treatments. Loren said she wants to offer something 'different than other salons - that's a bit more inclusive to an alternative style'. She said she wanted to cater her business to those who were interested in more gothic and dark styles, as she feels the alternative style is often forgotten about. Loren wanted to ensure everyone felt welcome to come to her studio. 'The amount of people that have said to me: 'Oh you're opening a salon' and assume pink and glitter, but I'm not into all that.' The nail studio is situated above The Wine Buff on Gorey Main Street and is open from 10am to 5pm Monday to Saturday. Loren spoke about her journey as a nail artist starting in during the COVID pandemic. 'I've always been quite artsy. I started off in my house, believe it or not in my sitting room doing little nails on people and just taking in a few clients' she said. Loren shared that she started working in a nail salon in October 2024 but felt the urge to have her own studio, which led to her grand venture to Gorey Main Street. Discussing the grand opening of the mysterious salon, Loren said: 'It might not suit everyone, but I think a lot of people are quite excited about it.'
The Journal
2 days ago
- The Journal
Neighbour of Street 66 loses second high court action over noise levels at gay bar
A NEIGHBOUR OF one of Dublin's best-known gay bars has lost his second court action aimed at taking away its music, singing, and dancing licences, claiming the venue's loud tunes kept him awake at night. Tommy Bergin, who lives above the popular Street 66 bar on Parliament Street, brought the objection to the permits before Judge Máire Conneely at Dublin District Court. However, she dismissed the action on several grounds, among them the location and character of the area, in a part of the city centre known for entertainment. 'I believe that in a location such as this on a busy street, it is not reasonable to expect that the music would be completely inaudible,' she ruled as she held that the bar was a suitable premises to keep the licences. Council worker Bergin complained about the noise levels when music was played late on Friday and Saturdays, leaving him with sleepless nights, and he could make out not only the songs but also the lyrics of each tune. Last year, the late Judge Marie Quirke had ordered that the maximum music volume be limited to the levels recommended by a sound expert witness. She had ordered the bar to implement a ten-point drop in the music levels: 78 decibels in the front and 86 decibels in the back of the premises, which was undertaken. However, Mr Bergin claimed today that the problem had not changed. He said last year the songs he used to be able to hear mainly included Celine Dion and Whitney Houston tunes, but now it was Florence and the Machine or Britney Spears numbers, and 'clap along, stomp along' tracks. He told the court it had been an issue for three years, and after the lifting of COVID restrictions, the sound level 'went bonkers', the music went through the roof, and his apartment 'was shaking'. He stated that the noise level covenant with the building management company stipulated that music should not be audible in the adjoining premises. Cross-examined by Dorothy Collins BL, for the bar, he was told invoices showed the works carried out by her client, who claimed she spent €50,000 on sound insulation measures. Advertisement However, he maintained the bills did not show a special outline of the work, and he could not be sure it was sound insulation. Visibly upset, the bar owner, Siobhan Conmy, said she would do everything possible to resolve the issue with her neighbour. Conor Duff BL, for Mr Bergin, told the court that based on the evidence, all roads lead back to the premises not being suited for the services and activities it offered. The court heard that a speaker had been removed, sound limiters were used, and air conditioning was installed, which reduced noise because the venue did not have to leave doors or windows open. Dismissing the action on several grounds, the judge held that little weight could be attributed to evidence of a building management company witness who supported the objection. That witness maintained there had been several complaints, but the judge said those complainants had not come to court to be questioned. She also found that it was not a matter for the court to get involved in enforcing a covenant in a private lease. The sound insulation value of the concrete floor was insufficient, and a higher standard may be required between domestic and communal spaces. The expert used by Mr Bergin was of the view that the efforts by the bar had not worked, and it was not suitable for music or singing. Other evidence from a Dublin City Council inspector's tests was regarded as having little weight. Judge Conneely stated that this testing was subjective, which may have been sufficient as a starting point, but no further scientific testing was conducted by the official. She held that it was not independent evidence. Regarding Mr Bergin's claim that he could hear the lyrics which had been offset by turning on appliances like his washing machine, she noted his own engineer stated that if he opened his windows, external noises would further assist in mitigating the sound of the music. She also noted that he had not engaged directly with the owner for three years, and the bar's expert suggested that the discovery of a leak problem could be an opportunity to enhance insulation. She noted that the bar had been licensed for several years. The experts agreed it was in line with building regulations, but domestic and commercial premises may require different standards. Therein lies the problem, she said, as there were no specific standards to act as a reference point, 'It is a dispute between the experts as to what is acceptable for a domestic and commercial premises side by side, and there was no EU law surrounding the appropriate levels.'
Irish Examiner
2 days ago
- Irish Examiner
'It's a new awakening in Ireland': Manchán Magan on his new TV series
There's a moment towards the start of Manchán Magan's inspiring two-part documentary, Listen to the Land Speak, in which – great etymologist that he is – he addresses his name, Manchán, which means 'little monk'. By his own admission, he reeks of the priesthood. 'Just take one look at me,' he says, 'I was obviously a priest in every single incarnation until this one. I will always find a little cell, the smallest hole that I can be in to write or to live in. Manchán was originally a pagan name, Mongán. He was the son of Manannán mac Lir. It had been a pagan deity, which was taken over during Christianity.' Magan's latest gospel, which underpins the documentary, and the award-winning book its based on, examines the ancient, binding ties the Irish landscape, including its rivers, mountains and caves, has with the stories and myths we tell ourselves; and what he argues is a yearning at large – perhaps accelerated during the Covid pandemic lockdowns – to reconnect with nature. 'Is it true to say that our myths and stories are linked to the land?' wonders Magan. 'If we go out into the land, do we get to understand the stories? Can we unpack the insights and wisdom in them in a more meaningful way? I was aware of that as a concept from the songlines in Australia, from reading about Apache elders in New Mexico, or the work I'm doing with Cree elders in Edmonton and the Tsleil-Waututh in Vancouver, Canada. 'They've great tales and legends. When they go out on the land, they tell them in place. The land becomes alive. You suddenly see deeper levels of wisdom contained in the stories. A great example in Ireland is the Keash Caves. When I went up there with Marion Dowd, the expert on caves from University of Sligo, she unpacked it, and it wasn't academic anymore. 'Suddenly, you see these caves as an entrance way to the other world and hown, say, the goddess Anu, or Áine, is this land sovereignty; she's a representative of pregnancy and the fruitfulness of the land. She's this abundant, life-giving force. Lough Gur is the classic example, how her pregnant belly is there, rising up from the lake in Lough Gur. Her breasts are down the road in the Paps of Anu. It's all there." Manchán Magan on Listen To The Land Speak. Magan recalls his days as a backpacker in Peru or Bolivia, where he was shown goddesses in the landscape, etched out. "I didn't think I would find the same in this modern island on the edge of Europe,' he says. Magan's own personal journey, bubbling away in the background of the documentary, puts a different hue on the story he tells. Towards the start of filming in 2023, he was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. In his own words, it's 'a beautiful irony' that he has spent years as a writer and storyteller focused on healing, convincing people that ancient Irish culture and the Irish language can be saved, that it's not dying, while at the same time his oncologist is telling him that his cancer is, ultimately, incurable. He's finished a year of hormone treatment and radiation and feels 'brilliant' now, but awareness of his mortality is addressed in the documentary. 'I talked about my cancer a few times in the documentary, but the place that really got me was on Inis Mór,' he says. 'I'm standing in the middle of a graveyard beside a church and the church is being swallowed up by the sands and the land. It was hard not to be aware, 'Oh, wait, we are all here for the shortest possible time.' 'I've always had that connection with the spirit world since I was a young child. That's always meant more to me, it's been more real to me than reality. I could slip away from this earth at any time, all too easy. I don't have kids depending on me so it's easy for me to say that.' Listen to the Land Speak is stunning to watch, full of dramatic, star-soaked cinematography. Ireland has rarely looked so beautiful. Filmed over four seasons, it concludes with a raucous Samhain parade in Clonakilty, Co Cork, a time to celebrate the wildness in us, as winter creeps in. Magan ends on a hopeful note. Even though darkness is looming, and people will die over winter, there's always a glimmer ahead. At some point, the days will get longer, and the grass will grow again. 'The land in Ireland is alive,' he says. 'It wants to teach us things. They call the Burren 'the learning landscape'. The landscape is a manuscript of old knowledge about how to connect with woodlands, rivers and animals, and how all of those are important. They're connected with the rising of the sun, the seasons, the equinox, and the solstice. All of that is everywhere you look – in the place names, in the landscape itself and the stories. It wants to communicate with us. I feel that strongly. 'When I speak with elders from other cultures, they say the same. They say we've lost so much of our old songs, our stories, our knowledge, but it's still in the landscape. All we need to do is go out and walk it, and redo the old rituals, even in an awkward way. It somehow sparks ancestral resonance inside of us and makes us feel better. Even if that's just walking, cycling, hiking or swimming, going back out into the landscape somehow nourishes us.' The first episode of Listen to the Land Speak is on RTÉ One, Thursday, July 17 at 10.10pm Ireland is a woman Manchán Magan presenter of Listen to the Land Speak. Picture: INPHO/James Crombie One of the striking aspects of Listen to the Land Speak is the prominent role that women – goddesses rivalling the best of Greek or Norse mythology – play in Irish identity. There's St Brigid, of course, patron saint of childbirth and brewing – she once brewed a lake of beer; the Cailleach, a hag who shaped Ireland's mountains, rivers and landscape; and Áine, a goddess of fertility, invoked by farmers hungry for a good harvest, who, it was said in the nineteenth century, used to lure the best musicians from around the county to her palace underwater in Lough Gur, Co Limerick. 'It's a new awakening in Ireland,' says Magan. 'For a long time, we thought Ireland was about Cú Chulainn and Finn McCool. Pádraig Pearse was very keen on that – the only way to keep [ancient Irish] culture alive was by fighting, by blood sacrifice. His time emphasised the male warrior – to go out and fight for freedom. Once we had that, then we were able to look deeper into our stories and that's what myths do. A myth is not a single narrative at a particular place. That's the beauty of myths – they change for each year. 'So, around the world, this idea of a more sensitive consciousness, a more Earth-based idea, if you were using naff language you'd call it the age of Aquarius, is rising again. It is only natural cultures will remember that they did once have a more female-centric, matriarchal culture. It's happening in Ireland, and it's happening in indigenous cultures around the world.'
