When you think of red velvet, desserts or K-pop bands might come to mind. But for many, especially those involved in the world of Irish dance, red velvet evokes a very specific image: the classic fabric of traditional Irish Dance Costumes. These costumes, particularly the elaborate solo dresses, are more than just attire; they are symbols of achievement, artistry, and the evolving identity of Irish dance itself.
My own journey with Irish dance began in childhood, a decade immersed in intricate footwork and vibrant Celtic music. Among the most enduring memories are the dresses. My first “solo dress,” a privilege for advanced dancers, was crafted from rich, red velvet. This wasn’t just any dress; it was a unique, hand-embroidered costume signaling a significant step in my dance journey. It was akin to a black belt in martial arts or a top academic honor, yet far more visually striking and personal. Unlike generic awards, each solo dress is a one-of-a-kind creation designed to capture attention on stage. My pre-owned red dress, which became mine at age nine, featured delicate emerald-green embroidery swirling through white and gold Celtic knot patterns. These designs, I learned, were inspired by the Book of Kells, a renowned ancient manuscript famed for its complex artistry. Traditional elements like white satin cuffs and a mandarin collar completed the look, while strategically placed rhinestones added a touch of youthful sparkle. Though second-hand, that red velvet dress was perfect in my eyes, marking the beginning of my deeper engagement with Irish dance and its captivating costumes.
For those unfamiliar, Irish dancing is a captivating art form rooted in tradition, performed both individually and in groups, for performance and competitive purposes. It encompasses dances in “soft shoes,” akin to ballet slippers, and “hard shoes,” similar to tap shoes, all set to lively Irish music. The dance itself is incredibly demanding, requiring immense athleticism, rapid foot movements, high leaps, and a characteristically still upper body.
I competed in Irish dance throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, from ages five to fifteen. After my initial red velvet costume, two more solo dresses followed: a second pre-owned velvet dress in cerulean and magenta, and finally, a custom-designed masterpiece in iridescent fuchsia silk. While high school brought new interests, drawing me away from formal Irish dance, the memories, particularly of the dresses, have remained vivid. Beyond the routines and the music, it’s the evolution of these costumes that truly fascinates me.
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The world of Irish dance costumes embodies a fascinating paradox: the tension between deep-rooted Celtic heritage and modern theatricality. These dresses are a visual representation of an art form striving for contemporary relevance while honoring its historical foundations. Revisiting a regional championship competition, known as Oireachtas, after years away, I was struck by the dramatic shift in costume aesthetics compared to my original red velvet dress era.
Even during my competitive years in the early 2000s, trends like fluorescent colors, sequined appliques, and geometric patterns were emerging, echoing trends seen in figure skating costumes. However, the current state of Irish dance costumes would likely surprise anyone who hasn’t witnessed their evolution over the last decade. From a technical standpoint, today’s costumes are undeniably impressive, showcasing exquisite embroidery and vibrant color palettes. While some designs still incorporate traditional Celtic motifs, many have embraced more contemporary shapes. Skirt lengths have become shorter, bodices more form-fitting, and crystal embellishments are ubiquitous. The elaborate wigs, stage makeup, and tanned legs often draw comparisons to beauty pageants. Yet, Irish dance is fundamentally about athleticism and artistry. Observing these changes after a hiatus felt like stepping into a dazzling, almost overwhelming world of glitter and neon. The question arose: How and when did this transformation occur?
Tracing back the origins of Irish dance, its earliest forms are linked to rituals performed by the Druids, the learned class of ancient Celts. However, the structured Irish step dance we recognize today emerged in 18th-century Ireland with the rise of traveling dancing masters. These instructors would teach villagers group dances, often performed in communal settings. Within these groups, the most skilled dancers were designated as soloists, a tradition that persists. These soloists would take center stage, often on a makeshift platform like a removed door laid flat, to showcase their talent. In 1893, the Gaelic League was founded in Dublin as part of the Celtic Revival, aiming to promote Irish culture, including dance and traditional attire. Irish dance competitions, known as feiseanna (singular feis, Gaelic for festival), expanded beyond Ireland, reaching countries like the United States, where Irish immigrants maintained the tradition.
Until the 1990s, Irish dance remained largely within cultural circles, not widely recognized globally. A pivotal moment occurred in 1989 when dancers from the Trinity Academy of Irish Dance, a prominent school in the Midwest where I trained, performed on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson for St. Patrick’s Day. They returned in 1990 and 1991, exposing millions of viewers to the dynamism and precision of progressive Irish dance set to live Irish music. The Chicago Tribune lauded them as the “Rockettes of Irish dancing,” foreshadowing the theatricality and glamour that would soon characterize the dance form.
However, it was Riverdance that catapulted Irish dance into global prominence. This theatrical show, starring Jean Butler and Michael Flatley, debuted as an intermission performance at the 1994 Eurovision Song Contest and became an international phenomenon. Riverdance captivated audiences worldwide, sparking a surge of interest in Irish dance. Suddenly, Irish dance was not only culturally significant but also undeniably cool and even “sexy.” Dance schools globally experienced a significant increase in enrollment following Riverdance’s success, according to Natalie Howard, my former teacher and current director at Trinity.
I was among the wave of new dancers inspired by Riverdance, joining Trinity in 1995. I was captivated by the show, watching it repeatedly on VHS, mesmerized by the grace of the soft shoe numbers and the powerful energy of the hard shoe performances. Seeing it live was an unforgettable experience, further solidifying my passion for Irish dance.
The evolution of Irish dance costumes paralleled this rise in popularity. In my early years, solo dresses were generally looser fitting, made from heavier fabrics like wool or velvet, featuring traditional Celtic embroidery and crocheted collars. Sleeves, like those on my red dress, often had wide cuffs, practically designed to hold hair accessories needed for securing curls before wigs became commonplace. The dress bodice typically sat at the natural waist, with a paneled skirt flaring out to just above the knee. Primary and jewel tones were the standard color choices.
While school costumes retained many of these traditional elements well into the 21st century, solo costumes became increasingly elaborate throughout the 1990s and 2000s. This transformation was partly driven by Riverdance and its even more extravagant spin-off shows, which further commercialized Irish dance. Cuffs disappeared, crocheted collars were replaced by mandarin collars or no collars at all, and metallic accents began to emerge. Heavy velvet and wool gave way to lighter, more dance-friendly fabrics, better suited for warmer performance conditions. By the early 2000s, skirt hemlines rose, waistlines dropped, and bolder colors became fashionable.
“Irish dancing solo costumes went through a very bad period in the early 2000s,” notes Howard. “There were feathers, animal prints. It was almost like the more gaudy you could make it, the better.” She recalls stagehands having to clear feathers from the stage frequently during world championships.
Technology played a significant role in this aesthetic evolution. Initially, dress designs were hand-drawn and sewn. The introduction of digitized designs and larger embroidery machines in the late 1990s revolutionized costume creation. “Once the machines got bigger, we were able to embroider more detail. That wasn’t possible by hand,” explains Keith Marron, founder and head designer at Rising Star Designs in Belfast. “The evolution of design made it possible to do things a lot quicker, a lot more intricate, and create new designs.” His company now produces approximately 15 dresses weekly using ten constantly running embroidery machines.
As designs became more intricate, Swarovski crystals were introduced, adding significant sparkle and driving up the already substantial cost of solo dresses. Today, a new, custom solo dress from Ireland or the UK can range from $1,200 to over $2,500, depending on fabric, size, and crystal embellishments.
“The solo costumes have become couture,” Howard observes. In the 2011 documentary Strictly Irish Dancing, master dancer Ryan McCormack, who performed with Riverdance, compared Irish dance costumes to wedding dresses, emphasizing their special occasion, high-value nature.
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The embroidered designs themselves shifted from traditional Celtic motifs—interlocking knots, crosses, swans, swords—to more modern, geometric patterns. Dresses adorned with eagles, butterflies, stars, and even patterns reminiscent of commercial logos became common. However, as with fashion trends, the pendulum has begun to swing back. Classic Celtic patterns are returning to favor, albeit with a distinctly modern, heavily crystallized twist. The rationale is often to catch the judge’s eye, theoretically drawing attention to footwork and improving scores. Dancers frequently seek inspiration from the costumes of previous champions, hoping that a particular color or sparkle will contribute to their own success.
At thirteen, I had the exciting opportunity to design my own solo costume. I spent hours poring over binders of Celtic designs and fabric swatches. Even then, my preferences leaned towards tradition, though I wasn’t immune to contemporary trends. I opted for a streamlined silhouette—no collar, no cuffs—and chose iridescent fuchsia silk with an orangey-copper lamé as a secondary fabric. For the embroidery, I selected a Book of Kells-inspired pattern with zigs and zags, maintaining a Celtic feel while incorporating a modern edge. It was my teenage attempt to blend the old and the new.
About six weeks later, my dream dress arrived, seemingly crafted by magic. Of course, I now understand the process involving embroidery machines and piecemeal construction. Yet, at the time, it felt magical, a feeling that persists even with my adult understanding. The evolution of Irish dance costumes reflects the evolution of the dance itself—a dynamic interplay of tradition and innovation, artistry and athleticism, and a touch of stage magic.
