Ireland gave the world Halloween. Then, every October, we buy it back. 

The pumpkins, the plastic cobwebs, the orange and black colour palette, the "spooky season" captions. Most of it arrives with a slight American accent, and most Irish brands pick it up without a second thought. 

We think that's a missed opportunity. A big one. 

It was never about pumpkins. 

My strongest Halloween memories have nothing to do with pumpkins or shop-bought costumes. They come from my grandmother's house, affectionally know as “Mother Ita's”. 

Mother Ita loved Halloween, although she never called it that. To her, it was Samhain. Every year, the house filled up with cousins, far more than the kitchen was ever built for. Apples hung from strings, and we tried to bite them with our hands behind our backs. Candles were lit for the “Púcas” to find their way. There was a basin for bobbing that left the floor soaked and all of us soaked with it. 

Then came the barmbrack, homemade, obviously, with everyone watching to see who got the ring and who got the rag. 

But the moment we all waited for was the fortune telling. Plates were laid out on the table, and one by one we were blindfolded and led up to choose, I can’t remember any of the fortune signals other than the dirt. The dirt meant death. For a game played by a room full of children, the stakes were remarkably high. The shrieks when someone's hand landed in the dirt could be heard down the road. 

It was a game rooted in a far more superstitious Ireland, and yet it still felt thrilling every single year. 

None of it cost much. None of it came in a multipack. And I'd bet almost everyone reading this has their own version of Mother Ita's kitchen. 

That's the point. The Irish Halloween isn't a look. It's a feeling. And feelings are far harder to copy than a colour palette. 

The original, not the remake 

Samhain marked the end of the harvest and the turn into winter, a night when the line between this world and the next was believed to be at its thinnest. Guising, carved turnips, fortune-telling, fire and gathering all started here. They travelled with Irish emigrants, were scaled up and commercialised abroad, and came home as something shinier and a lot less personal. 

Irish brands are sitting on the original story and still producing content for the remake. In a time when Irish Identity is soaring. 60% of adults report that Irish cultural identity is more visible then ever with 50% feeling proud and 47% feeling energised by its revival.  

What Irish brands can do to take it back 

1. Stop importing the aesthetic. 
If your Halloween creative could run in any market in the world without a single change, it isn't doing enough work. Irish brands have a visual and cultural language that no one else can claim. Turnips over pumpkins. Firelight over neon. Kitchens over haunted houses. Use it. 

2. Lead with the story, confidently. 
Most people in Ireland don't know how Irish Halloween really is. That's not a problem, it's a hook. "Did you know?" content is some of the most shareable there is, and it gives people something to feel proud of. Just don't turn it into a lecture. Tell the story like it's gossip, not homework. 

3. Sell the ritual, not the decoration. 
Samhain was built on things people did together: games, food, fortune-telling, gathering. That's participation, and participation is what every brief is chasing. The barmbrack ring is essentially the original limited-edition drop. Build campaigns people can take part in, not just scroll past. 

4. Tap into the kitchen table. 
Nostalgia is powerful when it's specific. Not "remember Halloween?" but the wet floor, the blindfold, the gasp when a hand hit the dirt, the cousin who always swore they didn't swallow the ring. Invite people to share their own version of Mother Ita's kitchen. The stories will be better than anything a brand could write. 

5. Own it year after year. 
A one-off Halloween post is decoration. A consistent, recognisable Samhain platform, built on over several years, becomes brand equity. The brands that commit to a cultural position, rather than dipping in for a week, are the ones that end up owning it. 

6. Keep the mischief. 
Irish Halloween was never polished. It was a bit chaotic, a bit eerie and full of tricksters. Don't sand that down into something safe and beige. The mischief is part of the magic. 

Insight first, always 

Seasonal moments are some of the most predictable briefs of the year, which is exactly why so many of them look the same. The work that stands out starts by asking why a moment matters to people, not just what it looks like. 

For Irish brands, Halloween is a rare thing: a global moment with a local origin story that nobody else can tell. That's not a trend to jump on. It's a birthright to lean into. 

Bring out the pumpkins if you want to. But the turnip walked so they could run, and it's about time Irish brands remembered that.