Niamh Kavanagh Swaps Eurovision Spotlight for Dancing Drama on TV

Olivia Bennett, 12/8/2025 Eurovision icon Niamh Kavanagh sashays into Dancing with the Stars 2026, trading ballads for ballroom and sequined self-discovery. Can Ireland’s beloved chanteuse conquer the cha-cha—and the spray tan? Glamour, nerves, and reinvention sparkle beneath the spotlight. Watch every glittering step as Kavanagh dazzles a nation anew.

There’s a peculiar magic in seeing a genuine Eurovision veteran lace up for a prime-time dance show. Perhaps it’s the mismatch between a velvet-throated chanteuse and the razzle-dazzle of samba hips, or maybe the joy lies in watching a national treasure brave the uncharted territory of competitive choreography—hardly the comfort zone for someone whose stage career has been more about microphone cords than mambo lines. Whatever it is, Kavanagh’s leap seems less like a calculated move and more like an invitation to root for vulnerability in sequined form.

In interviews, Kavanagh doesn’t make any attempt to iron out the butterflies. If anything, she’s refreshingly up-front: “Beside myself but trying to act all cool—like it’s no bother!” Not every performer will admit to nerves before the panel’s glare (and the equally daunting court of public opinion), but that’s half the reason people will be tuning in. Well, that and the vivid prospect of a Eurovision queen enduring the indignity of a misfired spray tan.

Oddly enough, while many contestants fret over footwork, it’s the glamour that really unnerves her. For all the bravura displayed at Eurovision—an arena where understated style goes to die and sequins practically outnumber notes—Kavanagh shrugs at the prospect of fake tan and costume jewelry. The lack of pierced ears, that charming confession, captured imaginations already. One hopes the wardrobe team is ready for a true “first time for everything” scenario.

It’s easy to forget, amid the rhinestone-laden headrush, just what kind of legacy Kavanagh brings. She’s not simply a former champion shaking off mothballs—this is someone whose career arc, from ’93’s “In Your Eyes” to a triumphant encore in Oslo, speaks of endurance. Somehow, the move from emotive ballads to ballroom blitzing feels less like reinvention, more like another page in a story that keeps twisting.

Now, the panel—Oti Mabuse, Brian Redmond, Arthur Gourounlian, and Karen Byrne—prepares to do what judges do best: dispense encouragement mixed with just a dash of drama. The format remains tried-and-tested, yet casting makes the difference, doesn't it? As the 2026 season lines up its contestants (eleven others, all with their own war stories and agendas), Kavanagh stands out not merely for past glories, but for injecting a sense of unpredictability into proceedings.

Hosting duties shift a little—a nod to the revolving doors of Irish entertainment. Jennifer Zamparelli holds the fort, while Laura Fox steps into the co-hosting role for the year. These on-air partnerships always walk a fine line between forced banter and genuine camaraderie; part of the low-key soap opera that helps the show outlive its glitter.

There’s no escaping the symmetry between the Eurovision stage and the ballroom. Eurovision, after all, built its reputation on spectacle excess and winking self-awareness—two things Dancing with the Stars milks for all they're worth. Somehow, though, there’s something almost radical in Kavanagh’s open admission of fear. In 2025, when every celebrity’s Instagram is airbrushed perfection, the realness of someone prepared to bumble and blush on live TV feels like something to celebrate.

Of course, pop culture has a long tradition of forging new heroes out of old favorites who risk embarrassment in service of entertainment—a Jennifer Grey or an Abbey Clancy, stepping in and somehow, with a good partner and a bit of luck, emerging triumphant. One could argue Kavanagh’s foray carries that same alchemical potential. She may stumble, she may soar, but each attempt echoes with the hope that artistry survives outside the comfort zone.

So, as the curtain rises and the first strains of a cha-cha blare out across the studio, it’s hard not to tune in—even for the skeptic. Will her journey swerve towards a samba swan song, a jittery quickstep into cult legend, or deliver some unexpectedly touching encore? There’s no telling, and that might be the whole, glittering point.

If anything, Kavanagh’s entrance isn’t just about competition or reinvention; it’s a piquant reminder that star power doesn’t really diminish. It just changes step. And for a few weeks this winter, audiences from Dublin to Donegal (and likely beyond) will be marching, waltzing, and yes, TikTok-ing along for the ride.

Sequined dreams, a whiff of spray tan, and the faint yet undeniable hum of Eurovision nostalgia—this January, something decidedly unscripted prepares to unfold on RTÉ’s Dancing with the Stars. Niamh Kavanagh, that unmistakable Irish voice which sent Europe swooning in 1993, is the latest not-so-reluctant recruit to television’s glitziest bingo hall of ambition.There’s a peculiar magic in seeing a genuine Eurovision veteran lace up for a prime-time dance show. Perhaps it’s the mismatch between a velvet-throated chanteuse and the razzle-dazzle of samba hips, or maybe the joy lies in watching a national treasure brave the uncharted territory of competitive choreography—hardly the comfort zone for someone whose stage career has been more about microphone cords than mambo lines. Whatever it is, Kavanagh’s leap seems less like a calculated move and more like an invitation to root for vulnerability in sequined form.In interviews, Kavanagh doesn’t make any attempt to iron out the butterflies. If anything, she’s refreshingly up-front: “Beside myself but trying to act all cool—like it’s no bother!” Not every performer will admit to nerves before the panel’s glare (and the equally daunting court of public opinion), but that’s half the reason people will be tuning in. Well, that and the vivid prospect of a Eurovision queen enduring the indignity of a misfired spray tan.Oddly enough, while many contestants fret over footwork, it’s the glamour that really unnerves her. For all the bravura displayed at Eurovision—an arena where understated style goes to die and sequins practically outnumber notes—Kavanagh shrugs at the prospect of fake tan and costume jewelry. The lack of pierced ears, that charming confession, captured imaginations already. One hopes the wardrobe team is ready for a true “first time for everything” scenario.It’s easy to forget, amid the rhinestone-laden headrush, just what kind of legacy Kavanagh brings. She’s not simply a former champion shaking off mothballs—this is someone whose career arc, from ’93’s “In Your Eyes” to a triumphant encore in Oslo, speaks of endurance. Somehow, the move from emotive ballads to ballroom blitzing feels less like reinvention, more like another page in a story that keeps twisting.Now, the panel—Oti Mabuse, Brian Redmond, Arthur Gourounlian, and Karen Byrne—prepares to do what judges do best: dispense encouragement mixed with just a dash of drama. The format remains tried-and-tested, yet casting makes the difference, doesn't it? As the 2026 season lines up its contestants (eleven others, all with their own war stories and agendas), Kavanagh stands out not merely for past glories, but for injecting a sense of unpredictability into proceedings.Hosting duties shift a little—a nod to the revolving doors of Irish entertainment. Jennifer Zamparelli holds the fort, while Laura Fox steps into the co-hosting role for the year. These on-air partnerships always walk a fine line between forced banter and genuine camaraderie; part of the low-key soap opera that helps the show outlive its glitter.There’s no escaping the symmetry between the Eurovision stage and the ballroom. Eurovision, after all, built its reputation on spectacle excess and winking self-awareness—two things Dancing with the Stars milks for all they're worth. Somehow, though, there’s something almost radical in Kavanagh’s open admission of fear. In 2025, when every celebrity’s Instagram is airbrushed perfection, the realness of someone prepared to bumble and blush on live TV feels like something to celebrate.Of course, pop culture has a long tradition of forging new heroes out of old favorites who risk embarrassment in service of entertainment—a Jennifer Grey or an Abbey Clancy, stepping in and somehow, with a good partner and a bit of luck, emerging triumphant. One could argue Kavanagh’s foray carries that same alchemical potential. She may stumble, she may soar, but each attempt echoes with the hope that artistry survives outside the comfort zone.So, as the curtain rises and the first strains of a cha-cha blare out across the studio, it’s hard not to tune in—even for the skeptic. Will her journey swerve towards a samba swan song, a jittery quickstep into cult legend, or deliver some unexpectedly touching encore? There’s no telling, and that might be the whole, glittering point.If anything, Kavanagh’s entrance isn’t just about competition or reinvention; it’s a piquant reminder that star power doesn’t really diminish. It just changes step. And for a few weeks this winter, audiences from Dublin to Donegal (and likely beyond) will be marching, waltzing, and yes, TikTok-ing along for the ride.