Journey of the ‘Celtic Tiger’ Goddesses
Chele Crawley
They were the Irish Goddesses, with their svelte legs, sculpted posteriors and chiselled jaw lines. Back in the noughties, those ‘It’ girls, backed by a corporate sponsor, were paraded, scantily clad, at photo-call after photo-call, as the Tiger prowled throughout our fair Isle.
Their ironed hair, pencil-drawn eyebrows, barely there belt skirts and bottled orange glow were stamped in ink on every Sunday publication, and if that wasn’t enough, they’d routinely make the lifestyle magazine or equivalent pull-out supplement – a shrine to their pin-up aesthetic, to showcase these divinities up-close and personal.
The Goddesses would be glorified in carefully curated ‘behind the scenes’ photos that were meant to provide us ordinary folk with a glimpse of their relatability – all the while serving as rocket fuel to propel their rising stars and whatever brands they worked for.
Their individual meteoric journeys to household name status was shared with no more than a handful of other girls, plucked from rural obscurity to the dizzy heights of Lily Bordellos, Pod and the K Club, but mostly they wielded their powers on Grafton Street, in itsy-bitsy bikinis and a spray tans while holding oversized promotional material for some product they had never heard of until that day.
No prominent street corner of the capital was safe from the troupes of photo-call models, in beach wear, languishing suggestively over a golf bag or a rugby ball against the backdrop of a dull Dublin sky. Yes. Do you recall those divine creatures that posed with everyday objects as though they were Willy Wonka’s golden ticket – a staged image as absurd as the boomy indulgence of Ireland’s carefree cub years.
Those were the years of opening up the newssheet to find the goddesses with their enormous diamante drop earrings dangling over a pair of petit hot pants and hot pink wellies in a mucky field in Ratheniska, Laois. Those were their years of dominion – splayed in full ‘carnival’ costume on a rainy Galway beach, and always smiling, through chattered teeth, as though the cold Atlantic breeze didn’t freeze their bones. But it did! In fact, it is believed that one, among the noughties deity, caught a rather nasty lung condition from her regular near hypothermic shoots on our fairest city’s streets.
The photo-calls were their platform – and they scrambled to be the most in demand – with up to 15 press calls a day. Week after week, they sported the biggest grimaces as they engaged in the post-feminism zeitgeist of female exhibitionism for empowerment. From crisps to betting agencies and every new brand, club and pub in between, those girls monopolised their bodies as brand mascots, and sometimes were the beautiful faces of corporate greed.
Ah yes – they were the goddesses – the modern Éiriús that cast a corporate spell over us all – but when the bubble burst, so too did their silicone stuffed prowess.
It was goodbye to the Celtic Tiger days.
It was goodbye to the 02 girls days!
It was goodbye to the promo girls!
Our modern goddesses divine simply fell back down to Earth.
Chele Crawley is a member of Inklings Writing Group.
Kilbixy poetry night
Chele will be performing next in An Evening of Poetry and Lyricism in Kilbixy Hall, Ballynacargy on Friday 29 August at 7pm in aid of North Westmeath Hospice. All are welcome to attend.