The Pagaent.

September 2016, the month that changed it all.

I had been working as a hairdresser in a little village just outside Galway city, called clarinbridge. It was a really tiny rural village with a strong sense of community. For years every September they had held a festival named The Clarinbridge Oyster Festival. Galway city itself also hosted one a month later but it held no comparison. There were a series of things involved in this which made it the extravaganza it was and pulled every sort of folk from the village to get involved . There were radio and magazine interviews, Market days, promotional nights /days and of course the queens selection night! Each year the festival committee would hold some short interviews with local girls who hoped to be crowned that years Oyster Queen. In 2016 I was crowned that said lucky winner. I had been put forward by my boss in the hair salon. Tracy and I had worked together for four years at this stage and had become the best of friends, I had been having a rough time in my personal life and my confidence was low so she believed by entering me for this title it would boost my confidence, put me back out into the world and help me make new friends and connections whilst also boosting our salon from a buissness point! Once the queen is chosen the committee would pick a beauty salon and a hair salon to style her for the year pro bono! In return the salons would be promoted and given inside access to the festival activities, so to be crowned the queen and work inside the salon that was chosen was a double victory really!

The day I was crowned was a stressful one to say the least. I found out at 3pm I had been chosen but in order to proceed I had to be in a bar in Galway city by 7pm that evening glammed and ready to receive my tiara in front of a crowd of people and newspaper photographers! My workday did not finish untill 7pm as it was that day, I owned not one single dress (being slightly tomboyish I used to repel dresses) no tan no make up and no time. Now asking a young Irish girl to go and take photos that will be in the local newspaper with no tan, fake lashes or a killer outfit is social suicide to say the least, lucky for me I have an amazing family and group of friends who all got involved in making sure I was ready out of work early and in that bar by 7pm!!

The crowning night itself should have given me a brief warning as to what I was in for but I was so fascinated and excited by all the attention and commotion that I ignored all those signs and continued smiling for photos. From photos and videos of that night it looked well organized and fun for all that attended. In reality I was introduced to a handful of people whom I was told would be part of the festival committee, some models, some bloggers and buissness men and then left to stand awkwardly and uncomfortable in the corner awaiting any further instruction. After the photos were taken and I’d been introduced to everyone they deemed important I sat with my family in the corner until we realised they didn’t seem to care or notice if I was still there. The thrill soon worn off as I sat there nervous fidgeting in my best friends dress and worried about getting up for work the next morning so we left.

The next few months flew by in a blur. I worked as usual and here and there inbetween I would be asked to do small things as promotion for the festival, an interview for Galway Nows magazine ( which was one of my favourite achievements of the year) a radio interview on Galway Bay Fm, a salon reopening day etc. As the festival began to near it was very clear to me that the committee were indeed not organized, not friendly and not in it for the right reasons. The festival had been around for 86years at this stage and was renowned for staying local and keeping true to tradition but they had made a massive mistake this year, they had chosen me as their representative. I was not local, I was not involved in any of their traditions, I was the girl who came from another (looked down upon) town who happened to work in the area. The older people from the village strongly disagreed with the committees choosing of me, to the point I even had one elderly woman walk into my salon ask me a series of personal questions then attack me for being appointed even tho “ I was not clarinbridge blood” it was starting to take its toll once again on my confidence.

In 2016 the oyster committee chose Anthony Ryan’s in Galway city to dress the queen. Their job was to find outfits for all the leading occasions and the perfect dress for the main day itself. I was told to make my way into their shop and someone would help me try on different items and choose what suited best. When I arrived I was given four out of season , sale tagged, oversized dresses. Each one worse than the previous, each as unfitted as the next! When I expressed to the woman “ helping” me that none of the dresses fitted and were all at least three times my size I was told that’s all they had for me!! First I tried to call the woman appointed to sort this situation to help me and received no answers and no help. I had no choice but to choose the only dress that somewhat fitted me and leave.

My year as oyster queen ran a little differently too as they had decided instead of three days they were going to run the festival for five instead, this way every buissness in the village would be given the opportunity to host a night in its honor and in return get some buissness for themselves! In theory it was a good idea, but in reality no one wants to come out and celebrate an eighty six year old festival on a Tuesday night in a bar as big as my kitchen!! We kicked it off with a night in Paddy Burke’s marquee to announce the new plans for these years festival. I wore the dress I was given by Anthony Ryan’s, showed up on time , brought all my friends and family, made my speech to the crowd, smiled for photos and shook hands with everyone and their mother! In my head I had done all the right things, yet I was still being bashed, whispers behind my back, backhanded comments to me and my family especially regarding THE DRESS!! It wasn’t mine it wasn’t my choice and it wasn’t even my style yet people still shamed the fact that I had work it to such a sacred event!! This was when I really started to doubt the committee and their loyalty’s to my emotions. They just didn’t care, they were money hungry. They were bored housewives. They were self absorbed and they just didn’t care once it didn’t personally affect them.

The market day was almost as important as the festival day itself, it was held the Saturday before the festival in the old garden in the middle of the village. People would come and set up stalls of food, toys, clothes etc, it was mostly small local buissnesses. It was my favourite day of the whole festival, the atmosphere was always fun , the wether held up, everyone I met was super friendly and gifted me some of their products in return for promotion, it was calm and enjoyable! Once again as soon as they had finished walking me around the garden like a show pony they disappeared and left me to my own devices which for me meant straight back to work out of the glam and into my uniform!!

By the Sunday I still hadn’t recieved any of my so called “ sponsored outfits” in the weeks leading up to this I had to repeatedly ring or text the committee to resolve this for me as I continued to tell them I had no backups, all of which fell on deaf ears. Monday came around and I was in work when one of the PR lady’s arrived with six tent sized dresses!! Straight away I knew they wouldn’t fit and when I tried to state this I was told it was all I was getting and that Anthony Ryan’s had said and I quote “ If they don’t fit her that’s not our problem, mayb tell her next time to try shopping in the kids department it’s not our fault she doesn’t fit into adult clothes”. Wow. I was twenty two years old , a grown woman being told to shop in the kids department because I was too slim! Personally I believe skinny shaming is just as bad as fat shaming someone. I knew my weight had dropped a little in the last year, like I previously said it had been tough personally and I was struggling to battle anxiety and depression throughout this period , so for our PR lady to stand in my salon and judge me along with this clothing company whilst I stood with this huge tent like dress on over my uniform was the deciding factor for me. These people didn’t care, so why should I?

I cried quite a bit after this as I felt I was now being completely judged for what felt like every aspect of my life. I was from the wrong town, I was in the wrong profession, I was too skinny, I wasn’t girly enough I simply just wasn’t enough.

I spent that dreaded festival week in all my own clothes as old and out of place as they were they were all I had on such short notice, my family and friends would each come to an event so I always had someone by my side which was a blessing as once my job for them that night was done I was shrugged off and left usually to the corner.

Once Friday night rolled around I was beside myself with nerves, riddled with anxiety I got ready and drove down to the big marquee where they were kicking off the night with a band. Previous to this I had words with one of the committee members to discuss my impending speeches and jobs and my personal anxiety and how best we should combat it. She told me to call her anytime I needed help, so I did, I called her as I sat frozen to the chair in my car parked outside the gate. I had worked myself up so much in my head to the point I was paralyzed with fear to get out and walk in on my own. I called and called and called her, no answer, I even text her to explain what was happening and why I was late, no answer. Eventually my best friend managed to coax me out of the car over the phone, as I’m walking down the road tears still streaming down my face I’m met with one of the men on the committee, Peter was a quiet man who owned many buissnesses around Galway. He had not spoken to me a huge amount or ever seemed overly eager about any of this but when I met him and broke down explaining what had happened he completely lit up with anger at hearing how the lady’s had been treating me and the fact they had known how badly my anxiety had been affecting and still chose to turn their backs on me! He very generously offered to walk me in and arranged that I always have someone by my side throughout the rest of the weekend . It was a small gesture that meant the world to me. The night quickly grew sour once again as soon as my duties were over I received numerous spiteful drunken comments made my women committee members as did my family. We were not part of their world and they wanted us to know it!

The following day was he last of the big events , I was marched down the road by a marching band in my bridesmaid dress I had worn previously at my dads wedding!! (They still didn’t supply me with clothes) I smiled , posed for photographs , shook hands and then it was time for the main stage ! I was to make a speech in front of everyone with a radio host! All the other people involved had big sit down tables and meals and bottles of champagne, I was given a high top table to stand at by the bar with me family and friends. It was a disrespect to us in my opinion. My nerves were at me and I ended up taking a panic attack not long before I had to go up, not a single soul only peter helped me through it once again, and as soon as my speech was finished I was left to my own devices as they carried on about their night sipping on champagne and discussing next years strageies to reach a larger audience, just like that it was all over.

A year of my life was spent leading up to that weekend, the prepping, promoting, taking days off work, keeping my hair a certain way and dressing in a certain manner all to please people who couldn’t care less if I passed out on the side of the street as long as they got their champagne and networking in!! So when the following crowning rolled around and it was my turn to pass on the tiara I did it my way!

I had never been a girls girl. I enjoyed doing my make up dark and dramatic, loved dying my hair every color ubder the sun and believed wearing anything other than black was insane!! In the time between the festival ending and the crowning of the new queen I had done a lot of work on myself. The mind is the most delicate and important part of the body and without realizing it I had completely let my mental health deteriorate along with my happiness, I had spent time in therapy learning how control my anxiety and prevent future attacks, I got a second job as a bartender where I met so many amazing new friends which in turn grew my confidence, I was happy with my life and the person I had become. So as a little fuck you to those who put me down and thought I was too weak, too naive, too wrong for the role I arrived to the ceremony night dressed in my little off the shoulder, slit up the thigh black dress, skyscraper heels and freshly dyed purple hair!! I returned to Paddy Burke’s walked in with my friends and family once again but with confidence this time. And a whole lot of it. When I smiled for photos or shook peoples hands this time I smiled bright and my handshake firm because I was no longer nervous looking up at this wealthy people, I didn’t envy them or hope they’d like me, in fact they made me feel sorry for them and the fake lives they portrayed, I liked myself enough to not care whether they did or didn’t and that’s all I ever needed.

The Clarinbidge Oyster Festival is many things. True to it’s portrayel is not one of them, but leading me to better myself is , so for that I’m grateful regardless of the circumstances it gave me the push I needed to become the person I am today and without that push I’d never have gained the confidence to move to New York and be writing this story right now...