On Monday evening you knew it was over. Not that we'd noticed it had really begun in the first place. But there was a resignation and acknowledgement. The light was fading by teatime. Summer was gone. The moaning about our virtually non-existent relationship over the last few months could be set aside. Get lost Summer. Hello Autumn.

And so with kids back to school and the Electric Picnic juggernaut almost out of our gaze, it's time to turn to the new cultural season with its shades of excitement. It starts on Monday night as Dublin Contemporary unveils its ambitious, curated art project in Earlsfort Terrace and elsewhere around the city during the week.

Not without its mistakes and critics, one of the potential legacies we're excited about even before it opens its doors is the transformation of the wonderful space connected to the National Concert Hall. We're also eager about Roadworks, a collaboration with ANEWSPACE, where 22 street artists are being commissioned to convert 22 urban sites into spectacles.

Who's into permanent markers and so over seasonal fads this week? Michael or Ciaran? With thanks to Camille.

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Fred Perry is a Japanese-owned, British heritage brand with the stuffy taken out of it. Perry himself was from a working class background and was looked down upon by the tennis set when he turned pro, having won Wimbledon three times in a row. No other Brit has won since 1936, yet it was a shock when he was allowed to use the now iconic laurel wreath for his shirts. Supposedly, Fred would aggravate his upper-class opponents by calling out 'very clevah!' whenever a good shot was made. He moved to the States and lived the dream, hooking up with Hollywood honeys (Marlene Dietrich, Loretta Young, Jean Harlow) and wed four times. Sportswear has had the single biggest influence on how society has come to dress. Now go and see some of its finest examples as Indigo and Cloth exclusively stock the Laurel Wreath brand in their pop-up store. / Georgia

Going down to Lonesome Town? Well can I recommend you hitch a ride with The Lost Brothers. Last Thursday night Irish duo Oisin Leech and Mark McCausland sang the sweetest of harmonies about being lovelorn and Lord locked. It felt like I'd stepped into a RKO session recording as the boys leaned into the vintage Shure microphone. While the spirit of everyone from Buddy Holly and Simon & Garfunkel to the Everley Brothers were present, it was hardly surprising that Mike Scott from the Waterboys was actually physically there to join in. These boys have connections. They've recorded with Brendan Benson and Barbara Orbison invited them to contribute Hey Miss Fannie to a tribute album to Roy.  But connections are nowt without class and pedigree. The Lost Brothers are about to be found and embraced by the masses. Win Tickets / Michael McDermott

When I first went to see Moulin Rouge! in 2001, a handful of audience members walked out after just a few minutes. Perhaps not to everybody’s tastes, in the ten years since the grandiose conclusion to Baz Luhrmann’s red curtain trilogy first sashayed onto the silver screen, it has earned a level of cult status that few post-millennial movies can lay claim to. The film centres on the burgeoning romance between Christian, a writer, and the star courtesan at Montmartre’s famous Moulin Rouge, Satine. Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman’s deliciously hysterical turns as the star crossed lovers deservedly boosted their stock to record highs on the Hollywood exchange, but the film’s real star is its soundtrack, a maelstrom of modern pop classics that propels the narrative towards its dramatic climax. Win Tickets / Joey Kavanagh

Adele was supposed to write this piece for le cool. Seriously. She was all for it. But the combination of a tight deadline and a tour date meant that I stepped in instead. We were told Adele would pen the piece the next time The Civil Wars played here, but the next time they come, we won't need a multi-award winner to tell you how good they are, you'll have seen them tonight. Singer-songwriters Joy Williams and John Paul White bring their positive, progressive bluegrass to Dublin following a successful American tour. Together, their voices are tighter than a lover's embrace (they are married to other people, incidentally) and although they may have been helped/hindered by getting a song on Grey's Anatomy, their Southern stomper Barton Hallow would be better suited to a more raunchy episode of True Blood. Seductive Indie-folk. / Vernon Steel

So the generation that wanted out with the old and in with the young now wants to take it all back. Garvan Gallagher is again looking at the way elderly people are treated in society. This time through their dress. The line 'whether older people abandon fashion or whether fashion abandons older people' reveals an empathetic approach to the topic. Personally, I love it when elderly people dress with the same flair and attention that they would have when they were younger. Part of the issue with growing old that I can grasp is the individual probably doesn't feel old, and it's aggravating to be treated delicately when you still have the same joy for life as ever. Some fantastically stylish elders are Iris Apfel, Vivienne Westwood, Mimi Weddell, Terence Stamp, Elaine Stritch and Tavi - oh wait she just dresses like a granny. / Georgia

How many times is too many to see your favourite singer-songwriter live in a year? I think I saw Pierce Turner nine times in 2006 - behaviour which prompted a close friend to label me a 'Turnerd'. Since the late 70s Turner has divided his time between Wexford (his hometown) and New York (his adopted home). His 1987 solo debut on the Beggars Banquet label, It's Only a Long Way Across, was produced by friend and neighbour, modern classical composer Philip Glass. Musically, Turner continues to achieve something special - a convincing fusion of traditional Irish music/song with classic pop music (Motown, British Invasion, New Wave) - Seán Ó Riada meets The Beach Boys. In concert, Turner shifts between the introspective artistry of an improviser (seated at piano) and the infectious energy of a trad session (balancing on tables!). Win Tickets / Oran Day

I have to admit an almost-fetish fascination with the darkroom; where real photos are born out of water, light and air. If you, on the other hand, don't get all that purist fuss around film photography, have a look at the David Kronn collection. 160 works from 85 famous photographers (including big names like Irving Penn, Harry Callahan, Diane Arbus and Annie Liebovitz) show that it’s not just about composition, light and technique. That 'special something' that makes a timeless print is almost palpable here, even if near-impossible to pinpoint.  If you are a fan, note the difference and beauty of platinum-palladium prints in comparison to the standard black-and-white gelatin silver ones. Then, after you've looked time in the face, don’t be surprised by a sudden urge to dust your grandfather's Kodak. / Nadia Gativa

In the past two years, one man writing machine Eoin Colfer has penned a brand-new instalment of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, released a seventh Artemis Fowl novel, published his crime fiction debut, Plugged, and made a successful foray into musical theatre. Where he also found the time to scribe his first stage play­­, Holy Mary, the Lord only knows. The resulting 55 minute slice of 8-year-old angst is perfectly suited to the intimate environs of the Bewley’s Café Theatre, rendering one girl’s experience of preparing for her First Communion in all its weirdness and wonder. Aileen Mythen (Mary) and Iseult Golden (everyone else) expertly juggle the demands of comic-timing and pathos demanded by Colfer’s script, combining to produce a startlingly bitter-sweet evocation of growing-up under God’s perplexing gaze. Win Tickets / Tom Donegan

Weston's a drunkard, his wife Ella's despairing, their daughter Emma longs to escape and son Wesley desperately tries to man up. A dysfunctional family on the brink. Sam Shepard's Curse of the Starving Class concerns dreams, from those of a full fridge to a new life in Europe. However, the internally disputed land they own is the passport from this shacked up existence. With perceptible nods to our own rash exuberance and painful predicament, this play constructs humour and tension, especially through the gimlet-eyed brilliance of Weston (Joe Hanley). And then post-interval, Shepard wraps abruptly. Weston reforms, Ella fades, Wesley morphs into Weston while Emma takes to crime. It's jolts to a rushed and somewhat disappointing end in an otherwise recommendable play for reasons besides the bleating lamb, urination and male nudity. Win Tickets / Michael McDermott 

Terence Malick's searing talent comes from using philosophy as a touchstone, a way of trying to understand the often fractured Self. His 1978 masterpiece Days of Heaven has been lovingly remastered, and in doing so, elevates the painterly cinematography of Néstor Almendros. It tells the story of two drifters, Bill (Richard Gere) and Abby (Brooke Adams), who begin working for a rich farmer (Sam Shephard). What proceeds is a story of desire and greed, guilt and revenge, and the loss of innocence, but it also inspires a sense that the reclaiming of innocence is possible. The epic nature of these little lives is set off by Ennio Morricone's memorable score, and Malick’s grasp of landscape, where he uses both the beauty and bleakness of the rural environment as a way of describing human nature in all its complexity. / Siobhán Kane

"It doesn't feel wrong. They are bad people. They had to die." This is the chilling rationale applied by hitmen Jay & Gal as they go about dispatching their assigned Kill List. Director Ben Wheatley, who first rose to attention with gritty crime drama Down Terrace, delivers a well crafted and tension ratcheted low-budget thriller. It's grounded in domestic relations for the most part and generously flecked with subtle humour and convincing exchanges. In other words, you empathise with the hit men. The suspense builds and all indicators lead to a cracking finale. Then, Wheatley bottles it big time. Instead of keeping the taut script revolving around the small lead cast, he opts for a grandiose and overblown finale which fails to convince based on what preceeded it. Still streets ahead of most shlocky thrillers out there though. / Zach Joyce

Ever paused while waiting in-line at Burdock's to wonder what lies behind the imposing stone façade across the street? That, my fishy friends, is St Werburgh's (pronounced 'Ware-bergs'), perhaps the most peculiar place of worship to grace this city of quare kirks. Beyond the big blue doors you'll find a host of obscure treasures echoing the turbulent history of the building itself, including Swift's baptismal font, Napper Tandy's Bell, and - most randomly - two of Dublin's oldest fire-engines. But it is in ascending to the balcony, to perch in what was once the Lord Lieutenant's private pew, that you get the best sense of the place in all its faded 18th Century pomp. If you're very nice, Denise (Church Sexton) may even let you look around the graveyard, which now serves as her back garden - gnomes and all. Curioser and curioser! / Tom Donegan

The menu at the Red Onion Café seems to thrive on the concept of brunch, offering bespoke takes on classics hand-in-hand with more adventurous concoctions of their own design. There may be better ways to set you up for the day, but this is certainly up there with the best I've tried. It’s equally functional as a sit-in-with-the-paper or as a coffee-to-go kind of establishment. With the latter, be sure to grab one of the freshly baked blueberry bran muffins, but if eating in, I'd recommend the undisputed star of the brunch menu: black pudding waffle, served with poached egg, caramelized onions and a dollop of homemade chutney. There’s an endearing ‘make it up as we go along’ feel to the Red Onion, which, at just two months old, is probably why. I predict a long future, and possible waffle-related spin-off. / Robert Maguire

To be an artist, you need bottle. For this exhibition giant 8ft fibre-glass bottles were shipped in and The Small Print summoned up the Dutch courage to invite 10 international artists covering fashion, photography, street art and illustration to decorate them. Check out Celestine Cooney's collage piece, it looks like a diary that been stashed under a teenage girl's bed, since the 90s - dotted with cut-outs of Alf, Hunter S, Garbage Patch Kids, a young Michael Jackson and some bare arses. The London Police, Linda Brownlee, Dalek, BrenB, Mario Sughi and Ben Newman also deliver while collective Rinzen get two bottles to play with, both they spin brilliantly. But my favourite has to be Niels Shoe Meulman's. The Dutchman has inked the words of 9th century Irish poem Pangur Bán onto his bottle with calligraffiti...like a funky monk. / Vernon Steel

Charles Horton, Head of Collections at the Chester Beatty, has over 30 years of working with archives, libraries and collections and knows a thing or two about collecting. Hear him give some clever pro-collecting points. In the meantime, here's mine. 1) As a collector you can donate to museums where people will walk around for generations after you have died and read your name on a plaque. Mr. Beatty himself now has an entire museum named after him and his collection is greatly admired. Could be you. 2) Another reason to collect is for the thrill of the chase. Beatty, when thinking of purchasing for his collections would sometimes send several undercover people on his behalf to look at individual items so that the buyers would not know the extent of his interest. I imagine sometimes he probably had to carry a gun. 3) Tax breaks. / Georgia

Once the apex of cool, a major label record deal is now passé - the internet has changed how art is sold, and DIY is the business model du jour. This can prove terrifying for anyone considering abandoning a stable income to pursue artistic ambitions. Never fear - Ranelagh’s Village Cine Club is here to provide a welcome slap of encouragement. It takes the form of this 2002 documentary, which offers a good old talking to from artists who've been there and done that. Expect genuinely priceless insights from self made legends such as Ian Mackay of Fugazi, sideshow king Jim Rose, Craigslist’s Craig Newmark and musical messiah, Steve Albini. If that doesn’t whet your appetite, there's also some good 'I was on a lot of drugs' stories, a man in a fishnet onesie, and footage of the pope being bitten in half by a T-Rex. / Robert Maguire

The praise for Belinda McKeon's debut novel Solace has been effusive and richly deserved. This is a work of staggering beauty and heartfelt perception. Telling a story of the ties that bind and the needs that chafe in rural Ireland, it is hewn with great affection. Mark Casey has opted for the bright city lights and world of academia against the wishes of his father Tom. He may struggle with his thesis on Maria Edgeworth but the slacker freedom beats the entrapment of a small farm. Complications arise when he falls for Joanne Lynch, whose father once had an unforgotten run in with Tom. Tragedy befalls which inevitably changes everything. McKeon's consummate mastery of the said and unsaid is rooted in John McGahern but Solace reveals a truly original voice set to join the firmament of new Irish literary greats. (part of Mountains to Sea book festival) / Michael McDermott

Over the years, Brian Wilson has become a potent symbol of unfettered creativity, in possession of a rare genius that renews and glows with brilliance. His work with The Beach Boys established an entirely new sound and has become as powerful an influence on other musicians as Phil Spector became to him. The phrase 'Wall of Sound' neatly explains some of Wilson's own work - evident in the warmly beautiful harmonies and the layered, complex atmospheres that wring out the heart's secret mystery. When he returned to the unfinished Smile with Van Dyke Parks in 2004, they filtered the Larkinesque “what will survive of us is love” theory, and the record remains a testament to perseverance, dreamy talent, and collaboration, something Wilson thrives on. / Siobhán Kane