You wouldn't guess, based on the skinny jeans and cardigans, that Brendan's Irish heritage was so strong that he has an appetite for whiskey and pig that he indulges at a local Brooklyn favorite, Fatty Cue. However, look a little harder and his penchant for tweeds layered with classic v-necks, timeless trenches, flat-caps, bow-ties, and dress shoes with no socks belie his deep ancestral roots. Brendan savors individual moments like a time-honored storyteller, much as he articulates a scruffy oxford shirt with gray flannel trousers and a vintage YSL tie and shirt so as not to look too stuffy.
In his photographic work, Brendan prefers taking the time to create a potent single image, which reminds me of how he loves to stare at the smokestacks and the Williamsburg bridge outside his window. In a chunky herringbone Ben Sherman coat ("A knock-off of Dior," he says) he speaks of preferring, for his films, screenplays based on reality but with an exaggerated, sci-fi dimension. One, that he was creating at the time of this interview, was a speculative story about what happens to jetsetters when they absorb too much radiation from the x-ray machines at airports. So sincere in his quest for authenticity, Brendan appreciates classic Fred Perry shirts and Bailey's brogues, as well as the Talking Heads, Joy Division, and Roy Orbison. When asked about how he felt about Madonna, he politely responded: "To be honest, I've only heard a few of her songs. I haven't really followed up."