Bernard O'Shea: 5 things I learned about viral 'Irish' weddings

Irish Examiner

a day ago

Let's start with the wedding that had everyone from Enniskerry to Ennis glued to their phones: Ally Rice and Sean Fernando — a New York couple with a taste for grandeur — descended on Adare Manor with 100 of their nearest and dearest and a budget rumoured to have more zeros than your average Lotto win.
What followed was less a wedding and more an immersive experience, complete with a gifting lounge, falconry, topiary chess, a horse-led pub crawl, and, naturally, a petting zoo.
TikTok melted. Instagram wept. And somewhere in real Ireland, the father of the bride cried into a receipt for three trays of cocktail sausages.
But to really appreciate the mad splendour of this wedding, you have to contrast it with the humble brilliance of the traditional Irish wedding.
A real Irish wedding usually features a church with questionable heating, a function room with a dodgy carpet, a barman who pulls pints with disdain, and an uncle doing Riverdance before the soup is served.
Some speeches go on too long, a sing-song breaks out before the desserts, and someone always cries during 'The Voyage'.
And yet, we remember those weddings forever.
Because despite the sore feet, the gravy stains, and the impromptu rows in the car park, there is nothing like an Irish wedding when it comes to warmth, mischief, and the kind of craic that leaves your face sore from laughing.
So what happens when that tradition meets TikTok?
Here are five things I learned about viral weddings that made me consider skipping the aisle and heading straight for a snack box.
1. Weddings have turned into Netflix pilots
No longer confined to a single day, weddings like Ally's and Sean's are now weekend-long box sets.
You don't just say 'I do' anymore — you premiere it. There's an arc, an ensemble cast, and multiple costume changes. Honestly, it felt like a co-production between Vogue and Visit Ireland.
The ceremony took place in a bespoke glass marquee, naturally.
There was an immersive dinner-theatre experience, and, at one point, guests were guided through history by actors, much like extras in an elite secondary school transition-year project.
It was glorious. It was extra. It was also a bit exhausting—and I wasn't even there.
2. The gifting lounge has replaced the free drink at dinner
Forget about a little welcome note and a Tayto sandwich pack. Ally's and Sean's guests walked into a full-blown boutique.
There were throws. Artisanal sweets. Irish cookbooks. Handmade soaps. Candles! If you didn't leave with a hamper worthy of a presidential visit, were you even invited?
But let's be honest: Most Irish people would take a purple Snack, a bottle of Lucozade, and notes written with crayon on toilet paper that says 'Thanks for the memories'.
Throw in another bottle of Lucozade for the hangover cure and a few leftover chicken goujons. We're simple folk.
3. Winter is coming
Something funny happens when wealthy Americans arrive in Ireland for a wedding.
Everything becomes a bit... Game of Thrones.
There are cloaks, horse-drawn carriages, and ceremonies in stone ruins set against a light drizzle to enhance the atmosphere.
It's magical. But it's also performative. Ireland, in this context, becomes a romantic Disneyland.
And while it's great for tourism and even better for the Instagram algorithm, it makes you wonder where the heart of the thing has gone and if any of them end up directing bovine traffic across several fields in their underpants after 15 pint bottles of cider?
Would you rather fancy canapes or a crisp sandwich and a purple Snack? Picture: Nick Ansell/PA Wire
4. You can't compete with a topiary chess-themed cocktail hour
I don't know about you, but I'm still emotionally recovering from the words 'topiary chess-themed cocktail hour'.
Most Irish-wedding cocktail hours mean someone passing around vol-au-vents the size of a small child's head while your cousin tries to play Galway Girl on the hotel piano.
It's more pints of Prosecco with a dash of fancy cordial. If you do want to keep up with the Insta-tasticals, here are a few cheaper options:
Turf-themed tea-and-toast hour. Guests sip Barry's beside stacks of decorative turf, choosing from a deluxe toast bar.
Seating-plan bingo. Bingo cards list classic Irish wedding guests... a cousin in a neck brace, the fella who had a part-share in a famous horse, and the ex by the cake.
Guess-the-relation gin hour. You're handed a gin and tonic and told to mingle until you figure out which guest you're supposedly related to.
But topiary chess-themed cocktail hours seem to be the new normal.
Signature cocktails, thematic backdrops, and sheep as part of the entertainment. I'm not even mad. I'm just impressed.
Bewildered, but impressed.
5. We all secretly loved it — but also, we're grand
We might roll our eyes at the grandeur. We might mutter, 'Jesus, the price of it', while flicking through social media on our phones from the couch.
But, deep down, we loved it. It was a spectacle. It was drama. It was Irishness, packaged and polished for the world to see.
But would we want it ourselves? Not really.
Most of us would rather save the money, invite our cousins, and have a dance to Rock the Boat with a holy trinity tray of goujons, cocktail sausages, and chips.
Because when you strip it all back, the best part of any Irish wedding is the stories it leaves behind. And, sometimes, the story doesn't need falcons, just a bit of rain and a funny speech (for good or bad reasons)...
...and someone's mam dancing to ABBA with her shoes off.