LEGGINGS, chunky low-slung belts, slogan tees and skirts with bubble hemlinesf apparently we Irish have come a long way in the sartorial stakes since the '80s, but to peer inside any fashion savvy girl's wardrobe today, one would be hard-pressed to make the point. I guess the difference comes in the way things are worn. These days, it's all pared-down, monochrome deconstruction, back then, and with the exuberance of 'first time around', we all really did look like an explosion in a paint factory.

I spent the '80s dressed in Bodymap clothes, with white 'Boy George' dreadlocks and a goth-white face of heavy pan-stick make-up. Is it any wonder that I never had an '80s boyfriend. At any rate, I was too busy dreaming about lads with eyeliner and billowing white blouses who really only appeared in Adam Ant videos (or at Flikrs gay disco).

The fashionable '80s in Ireland were the naive times of Tukka boots, sticky hair mousse and distinctly matte glossy magazines that involved blocks of typography and very few photographs . . . just as well the 'graphic' look was de rigueur.

Thankfully the era was so new, and so exciting, we got creative.

New chain stores appeared . . . Mirror Mirror and A/Wear (morphed from its previous existence as Gaywear) appeared. Those with a few more quid to spend splashed out in The Design Centre, situated in the basement of where Topshop resides on St Stephen's Green. Lainey Keogh, Louise Kennedy and John Hegarty (of the infamous dropped-waist sailor dresses) all had stalls, as did NCAD students Philip Treacy and Helen Cody.

For lunch or coffee, it was over to Bill Hughes' . . . now of TV producer fame . . . restaurant at The William Elliot Centre on Wicklow Street (currently the site of Tower Records), where a short-haired John Rocha opened his first boutique in 1983.

Down the road, you could find Quin and Donnelly in their first incarnation . . . a boutique called Ritzy, stocked with the store's own-label clothes.

My first job was working for Sharon Hoey . . . a fashion designer who's superceded the test of time and now makes stunning wedding dresses for Ireland's luckiest brides. In those days, Sharon also did quirky daywear and dreamy ballgowns and by working in her shop in my 'gap year' between college and moving to London to work in fashion PR, I got first look (and generous discount) on all that would come into the shop.

Simultaneously, I produced fashion shows with my college mates . . . for the newly opened Powerscourt Townhouse Centre and Alias Tom, already 15 years in business by 1985. I also did the PR for Otokio, the cutting-edge boutique owned by literary agent Marianne GunneO'Connor in a previous lifetime and the first place in Ireland to find Katharine Hamnett's sexy gear and Paul Smith's sharp suiting.

As Irish fashionistas, we certainly gave it that extra 10%, even if it did involve wearing everything we possessed at once. But somehow it worked, because everyone else was at it too. My most enduring '80s image is that of me trying to replicate Whitney Houston's (pictured right) kaleidoscopic eye make-up in her video for 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody'. Thankfully I stopped at the day-glo dress.

Sport
Gerard Siggins
IRISH sport had one of its rare golden periods in the 1980s. The national soccer and rugby teams were winning regularly and individuals such as Stephen Roche and Barry McGuigan were reaching the pinnacle of their sports.

North and south of the border, there was no time like the '80s. Northern Ireland qualified for the 1982 and 1986 World Cups, beating hosts Spain and reaching the quarter-finals in 1982. The arrival of Jack Charlton as manager sparked a revival of the Republic's team, and a first appearance in a major championship was secured for Euro 88.

That the first opponent was England was a dream, that they were beaten 1-0 a fantasy beyond all. The momentum drove the team on to World Cup appearances in 1990 and 1994.

While modern rugby fans can be blase about Triple Crowns, the two wins in 1982 and 1985 were the first for more than 30 years.

Glory was also a frequent delight for cycling fans in the heyday of Sean Kelly (Vuelta d'Espana 1988 and four Tour de France green jerseys), and Stephen Roche (won Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and World Championship in 1987).

Wee Barry McGuigan from Monaghan started the decade at the Moscow Olympics and finished it with a BBC chat show. In between he was WBA world featherweight champion, a title he defended twice before losing it to Steve Cruz in Las Vegas in 1986. Eamonn Coghlan kept the athletics flag flying with a world title in 1983.

In Gaelic games the GAA celebrated its centenary, Kerry won five football All Irelands before a strong Meath team came together at the end of the decade, and Galway reached seven hurling finals, winning three.

Music
Gerard Siggins
THE typical view of popular music in the 1980s was of a desert of soulless pop and bombastic rock where musicians spent more time with their hairstylists than writing songs. But, looking back, there were treasures on the wasteland, and for every Bon Jovi there was a Bunnyman and every Huey Lewis there was a Johnny Marr.

Current leading lights pay homage to the influence of bands such as The Smiths, New Order, Echo and the Bunnymen and Gang of Four that shone among the chart dross of the decade.

It was a decade of superstars, with names such as Madonna, Michael Jackson, Cher and Prince crossing over into the mainstream of culture and making waves in TV and movies.

American stadium rock was in its heyday, with Bono and his boys happily making the mulletfuelled leap across the Atlantic to join Bob Seger and Bon Jovi.

U2 had emerged from a fertile post-punk Irish scene that produced half a dozen groups that would have made the grade with a better infrastructure in place to support their talent.

The Blades from Ringsend in Dublin were the shining lights of the early part of the decade, with the songwriting brilliance of Paul Cleary winning many fans. Their failure to make an impact abroad remains Irish rock's greatest mystery. Bands such as The Atrix, DC Nein, Virgin Prunes and The End briefly won plaudits but fell away.

As the decade progressed, the hairdressers took over and the mediocrity of In Tua Nua, Blue in Heaven and Cactus World News came to the fore before the diaspora came to the rescue with The Pogues.

The only Irish artists to make creative waves overseas in the late '80s were Sinead O'Connor, Something Happens, Micro Disney and the criminally underrated Stars of Heaven.

By the end of the decade U2 were the biggest band in the world and far removed from the city that bred them, and like medieval kings they now think building a tower in their own memory is a welcomed gift to an adoring populace.

Food
Eamonn O Cathain

'WHAT'S a shallot?" was the guaranteed response when enquiring of a greengrocer in the early '80s if he had stock of said allium. Needless to say there weren't any, which made the fundamentals of French cuisine, then the nec plus ultra of restaurant fare in Ireland, difficult to achieve.

Back in the Ireland of the '80s you didn't eat out three times a week and on a Sunday you certainly either ate at home or ate Chinese, unless you were prepared to make the trip to Bray and Akis Courtellas' Tree of Idleness, a mecca for food and wine lovers back in the day.

You might even have spotted Tina Turner, Gay Byrne, Elvis Costello, Bono or other celebrities and back then you might have gawped and had what they were having (although I'm proud to say Bono once had what I was drinking, a 1972 Chateau Latour, then just �32 a bottle).

Sitting around his cosy fire sipping ouzo, we'd muse on the state of dining in Ireland compared to other countries and conclude that it wasn't just a lack of restaurants, knowledge and know-how but equally a lack of diners. It was calculated that there were 6,000 of them, little passing trade to speak of and all those few thousand went round in a very limited circle to the same establishments, the names of which were household: Mirabeau, Le Coq Hardi, Bon Appetit and so on.

If you left Dublin, you'd surely head to Kinsale, then as now a gourmet capital. Oh, there were the big houses in between, on your way down the country, but apart from the grandness of the architecture, they were, 'ow you say, lousy.

I remember the '80s with fondness, a 'grin-and-bear-it' time punctuated with frequent trips to London and Lyon to eat something simply outstanding, which somehow made the mundanity of it sufferable.

Patrick Guilbaud arrived to educate us, all fanned Challans duck breasts and cloches and ceremony, followed by the Falklands war, Haircut 100, Blackadder and long, long nights in the Pink Elephant. Gastronomically speaking, we were born, fumbling and feeling our way; helping us was a new phenomenon in the shape of the restaurant critic, which became indispensable reading on the back page of the paper on a Sunday, as the eating-out scene burgeoned.

I think the moment the sundried tomato arrived circa 1987 we entered gastronomic puberty, with its attendant acne on the face of eating out.

"They're disgusting", one diner grimaced to me, the day I offered them for the very first time. They weren't of course, but two months later, they were all the rage . . . overused, misunderstood and eventually sickening, like pesky pesto today. Nouvelle was the 'in' term but soon gave way to 'fusion'. Confusion, cracked wiseacres like myself.

Establishments proliferated, each one grander than the one before. Like teenagers discovering girls, restaurateurs discovered Rungis, the massive market outside Paris, and suddenly all manner of weird and wonderful fare from poulet de Bresse to Epoisses cheese was gracing Irish tables and it was no longer necessary to hop over to the River Cafe in London to enjoy similar delicacies.Vegetables were served 'on the side', but potatoes continued not to be classed as a vegetable and remained indispensable if it was to be any class of a meal at all.

Very soon it was all over: the explosion of the '80s in food terms left its mark but the grand establishments met their Waterloo in a very short period . . . though some of the cannier ones survived. The incoming generation knew that they wanted to eat out but now rejected that formality and stiffness. Out went the linen tablecloths (and the laundry bills) to the relief of many a patron; in came informality, cafe and bistro fare, bare tables, Asian food that wasn't just Chinese and the rise and rise of the neighbourhood and suburban restaurant.

That legacy continues today as the country sports umpteen eating-houses(a favourite '80s term), all manner of cheese shops, farmers' markets, covered markets, microbreweries, crazy prices and tables outside.

Last Saturday, I could have had a Vacheron Mont D'Or ('just back in' a sign advised pining customers) and advice on how to serve it warm for your dinner party, at the English market in Cork, while on Monday night, I was turned away from no less than five of my favourite gaffs in Dublin before a sixth pitied me and allowed me a table.

On a Monday night? How I miss the '80s!

Media
Niall Stokes

SOMETIMES it feels like I don't remember the '80s. It's hard to get back to the moment before the floodgates opened, to recall just how enclosed and brutally stifling things were in Ireland. Then it all comes back.

The cudgels had been taken up in the '70s and the process of chipping away at the monolithic powers of church and state had begun. We might have felt we were getting somewhere, but then the pope came. 1979. Yellow flags in the streets.

Bunting in the gardens. The storm troopers of the anti-happiness league taking to the pavements. Triumphalism in the air, on a grand scale. Behind it the eerie whiff of hypocrisy. The youth mass in Galway. Eamon Casey and Michael Cleary as cheerleaders. It felt all wrong. Horribly wrong. Little did we know what was coming down the turnpike.

Flashbacks now. Black clouds gathering.

Politicians conniving, currying support from religious fanatics. An abortion referendum. The terrible sense that the past had been sold, that we were going backwards into the future. A generation disenfranchised. The instinct to cut and run. Not that easy with a young fella and a magazine to worry about.

We fought on. Launched by Vincent Browne in 1977, Magill hammered at the gates. In 1980, the Sunday Tribune arrived.

In 1982, Hot Press turned a corner. Staked its claim to a say in the national agenda with political interviews that dug deeper.

Only two official radio stations . . . but anarchy ruled the airwaves. Pirate radio had given us Dave Fanning, Gerry Ryan, Mark Cagney and a dozen more to last.

Still it flourished, a platform for all sorts of different voices (some of them entirely mad).

1984. Tragedy in spades. Anne Lovett, a 15-year-old girl, discovered in a grotto in Granard with a new-born baby. Dead. The media had turned a corner. No way of crushing the story. Anne died later the same day and we knew: this is what the Ireland that heaps shame on unmarried mothers, that condemns anyone who strays from the straight and narrow of sex only inside marriage does to its children.

A baby found on White Strand in Cahirciveen, Co Kerry, and Joanne Hayes was plunged into a living nightmare, charged with murder. Nell McCafferty came further into her own: these Irish women were the victims of an oppression that was dark and deeply entrenched. In Magill, later, Gene Kerrigan brilliantly told the story of the tragedy, of the bungled garda investigations and of lives irreparably blighted.

1984 still. Hot Press. John Waters.

Charlie Haughey. "There's a few fuckers whose throats I'd like to slit, " he said.

Bedlam. Under a series of editors that included Colm Toibin, Fintan O'Toole and John Waters, In Dublin also stoked the fire.

1985. Live Aid. U2 seize the day. Sales soar. Unforgettable Fire roars. Dawn of a new era. 1987. Joshua Tree. The biggest band in the world. Who'd have imagined it? This didn't feel like the Ireland of old.

In another Hot Press interview, Gerry Adams talks peace. Meets John Hume.

The clouds are beginning to scatter.

Spring is in the air.

Some things won't change till the new decade has dawned but the tide is rising.

1988. Independent radio is established.

The push for gay rights is being taken to the European courts.

1989. The fall of the Berlin wall . . . the collapse of another derelict monolith.

Back home, the media landscape has been transformed. Things have opened up.

Have been opened up. Soon we will know more, much more. About the pope's cheerleaders. About Michael Cleary and Eamon Casey. About Fr Brendan Smyth.

About child sex abuse.

Sometimes it feels like I don't remember the 1980s, but what I can always say for sure is that by the end of the decade, one thing had been agreed. Silence on the part of the media was no longer an option. And Ireland was a better place for it. A far better place.

The deification of U2 saw hungry record scouts descend upon Dublin, chequebooks at the ready, desperate to snap up their heirs apparent. . . By and large, things didn't quite go according to plan. . .

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TOP FIVE '80s BANDS

Hothouse Flowers Raggle-taggle vibemeisters who scored the halftime gig at Eurovision '88. . .

Shiny Pop Moment: 'Don't go, don't leave me now now now. . .'

Did You Know? Singer and actress Maria Doyle Kennedy, most recently seen in The Tudors, was a member of the original Flowers line-up.

Cactus World News The bright shining stars of U2's own Mother Records label.

Shiny Pop Moment: We're torn between 'The Bridge' and 'World's Apart'.

Did You Know? CWN guitarist Frank Kearns later produced and played on Colin Farrell's 'cover' of 'I Fought The Law', recorded for the Intermission soundtrack.

The Golden Horde Power punk outfit fronted by the irrespressible Simon Carmody.

Shiny Pop Moment: Some say 'Friends In Time', for us it's gotta be '100 Boys'.

Did You Know? Horde axe god Des O'Byrne spins reggae and dub records at a monthly club in New York City.

Aslan The soul survivors of Irish rock.

Still rocking out to this very day.

Shiny Pop Moment: Did it ever get better than 'This Is'?

Did You Know? After Christy Dignam left the band in 1988, they briefly continued with a new lead singer, Eamon Doyle.

The original line-up reconvened in the '90s.

The Blades Shiny Pop Moment:

'Ghost Of A Chance' still says it all.

Did You Know? Cleary disowned the 1985 all-star Self Aid debacle, choosing instead to headline an alternative event in Dublin's Underground Bar.

Straight out of Ringsend, fronted by the great Paul Cleary. . . THE great Dublin band?

Nipper Brendan 'Bottler' Grace's VBF . . . acquiring a nipper for oneself involved persuading your dad to buy a LOT of petrol, as they were only avilable through a dubious oil for stamps for Nipper programme.

Massive fuel consumption = ecological disaster = cuddly puppet friend. Free a Nipper!

Roddy Doyle His Barrytown Trilogy . . . The Commitments, The Snapper and The Van . . . still captures the mood of the decade perfectly. Forget the movie, re-read the originals today.

TOP 10 '80s ICONS

The General Mickey Mouse! Everybody's favourite crimelord. . .

His daughter Frances says the late Martin Cahill is a terribly misunderstood figure, and erm, we're not going to disagree.

Charlie Haughey Alright, alright, we didn't have two pennies to rub together and an entire generation was forced to emigrate but look at the quality of those shirts!

AND he gave us the Celtic Tiger! And Bertie Ahern.

Woo-hoo! Geezer!

Bibi Baskin The urban legend goes thus. A caller to the Gerry Ryan show was asked how he'd liked to be buried: 'Up to me b****x in Bibi Baskin, Gerry'. He was speaking on behalf of the nation.

Jack Charlton Before Jack, there was nothing. He got us into the World Cup. He raised the bar for Irish football forever. He gave the nation hope. He got up Eamon Dunphy's nose. And opened a dodgy chipper. God Bless You, Big Jack.

Christy Moore The soundtrack of the decade? At the beginning of the decade, Christy was the only major musician who dared to support the H-Block protesters; by its close he was breaking house records at The Point Depot. Ride on!

Gabriel Byrne Before we had a film industry, The Walkinstown Wonder took La-La Land by storm. By 1990, Gaybo had guaranteed himself cinematic immortality in The Coen Brothers' Miller's Crossing. And you can't argue with that.

Olivia Tracey Move over Glenda Gilson. . . It's the original Irish supermodel! Last seen opposite Robert Duvall in dodgy poker flick Lucky You. No, seriously.

Toni The Exotic Dancer By day a simple Tallaght housewife, by night a onewoman burlesque extravaganza. Devoted Sunday World readers will never forget her pneumatic charms.