Recreational cannabis culture in Ireland gets a style makeover

words Siobhan Brett
photography Al Higgins

Are you going to a concert, a date? For a run, to a yoga class? Are you feeling ratty? Are you sitting down to write or paint? Are you trying to get some sleep? Struggling to focus? Interested in laughing until you cry? Rest assured that someone, somewhere, has something that’s right for you.

Such is the vast and varied promise of legal recreational cannabis, which has lapped the shores of 21 American states – and counting. Money is coursing through this group of increasingly sophisticated markets. Social and political acceptance is expanding by the day.

Gone, in these 21 states, is the unregulated zone that much of the world has come to be pretty familiar with. Gone is your roll-the-dice joint. Here are the tinctures, the strain-specific drops that look like breath mints, the weed gummies that taste better than wine gums, the vape pens that look like they were designed by Zaha Hadid.

We’ve been on this road for a while in the US. The concept of being “California sober” – abstaining from vices but for cannabis – surfaced three or four years ago; as soon as the pandemic hit, the state deemed production and delivery essential services. New York is right now on the cusp of such a dramatic entry into recreational retail that a state-wide glut of harvested “flower” is at risk of degrading while in wait. Around the country, cities and states have dedicated “cannabis czars”, officials appointed to shepherd in the legal recreational era.

While America has benefited greatly from the dependability and safety that legalisation brings, the march forward is not without its tension. Thousands of people across the nation are in jail for cannabis-related offences; it’s understandable that Goop-type marketing of artisanal edibles can leave a bad taste. Different states are attempting to address the growing contradiction in various ways.

When it comes to the wave of legalisation itself, the national mood is positive overall. A 2019 Instagram post by the admittedly highly irreverent account of the US Transportation Security Administration opens with: “Are we cool?” and proceeds to tell the American public that no, the agency is not searching for cannabis or cannabis-infused products, though yes (“let us be blunt”), law enforcement has to be notified should those things crop up.

By glancing at the landscape unfolding in the States, where revenue from recreational marijuana is projected to hit $32 billion this year, other parts of the world can peer into the future. In Ireland, the statutory picture – the eventual fate of which I think is clear enough – is less interesting than the social upshot and the arrival of options.

I grew up in Galway, downing cans and sucking tonic wine out of my gums. Drinking and socialising were bound at the hip early on. While that relationship evolved over the years, alcohol remained my preferred means of effecting a state change. Like most of my peers and the people in my orbit, I used it to wind myself up and wind myself down. I still do. Only in recent times, living where it’s legal, did I begin to consider recreational cannabis – first as an alternative to alcohol and later as its own experience with discrete and selectable benefits. I’ve been encouraged by the choices of a range of people around me. Not only those in their twenties and thirties, but their fifties, sixties and seventies; people who are either very committed or dip in and out with unconcern, partial to a square of a chocolate bar or a pull of a joint.

There’s untold potential in that inclination, and there are many people calmly ready for it to take hold in Ireland. One of them is Danielle Morgan, who in 2021 launched Dublin-based lifestyle store High Minds, which calls itself “a project exploring getting high with zero apologies”. Time spent in the burgeoning recreational markets of the US west coast spurred Morgan – who trained as an aerospace engineer before embarking on a career in design – to pursue an idea focused on recontextualising cannabis. Today, High Minds sells extremely elegant ceramic, glass and porcelain wares: pipes, bongs and stash cases, as well as charmingly packaged rolling papers, specialist magazines and, at the time of writing, a pouch of an organic herbal blend (rose, mint and raspberry leaf ) “to be used as you please”.

Morgan said the coolest compliments she’s received on her side project have been from people who aren’t actually interested in cannabis at all. “Even though they don’t want to take part, they love what we’re trying to do … they see it as a positive thing,” she says. “Which means it’s actually doing something, and educating people, and forming a positive relationship with something that’s still illegal.”

The stigma that High Minds exists to dislodge has considerable staying power. Even in the most progressive of American states, legalisation is one thing, normalisation another entirely. That calculus is arguably just getting started in Ireland. Morgan, for her part, believes the answer lies in talking it all through. “If there’s an opportunity to help shape how this plant is perceived by the general public, then I’m doing my bit with that,” she says. “I feel if there’s a barrier put between you and the person who you’re telling, it almost causes that conflict. The easier you talk about it, the easier they come to be about it.”

This article originally appeared in the Spring 2023 issue of IMAGE Magazine. Have you thought about becoming an IMAGE subscriber? Our Print & Digital subscribers receive all four issues of IMAGE Magazine and two issues of IMAGE Interiors directly to their door along with access to all premium content on IMAGE.ie and a gorgeous welcome gift worth over €65 from Brooke & Shoals. Visit here to find out more about our IMAGE subscription packages.