As many of you already know, I've been thinking about and doing a lot of stuff related to Korean fashion, since my interests in photography and the street have led me in that direction. Still, I don't think this interest is a function of just my personal whim and whimsy amplified large by the web; I do actually think there's something big cooking here, something bigger than my personal interests.
I was actually not explicitly interested in fashion per se, until I started observing certain patterns that made me sit up and take notice. In short, my observations of the shape of things heading in a certain direction is what started dragging me down that road, as opposed to any particular predisposition to already be headed in that direction. Hence, the faith in my hunch is all the stronger, as it was when I was watching Korean films in 1996-98 and thinking that some of it was some of the best stuff I had ever seen, as opposed to my already-present interest in Korean culture being responsible for that notion.
The last time I had such a hunch, it ended up being a "wave." This time around, that feeling is even stronger, because of the precedent of the so-called "Korean wave." And I think that line of thinking will be similar for many others as who see that parallel as well.
And like the "Korean wave", it will not be government support nor the Korean public's desire for it to be a "wave" that will make it so, but rather the inherent quality of the thing itself. What made the "Korean wave" crest and crash was a convergence of factors that no one planned for, that no one really predicted.
In the same way, the fabulousness of Korean fashion -- in terms of how the Korean public is interpreting, transmitting, and actually defining it with their own bodies -- cannot be created or controlled by central government planning, the desires of the fashion industry, or even the dictates of commercialism. Those factors can help quicken any "fashion wave" into reality, but everything begins and ends with what everyday Koreans are wearing on the streets.
In the same way that the Korean public had to be ready, to some extent, to receive films as diverse as Shiri, Old Boy, The King and the Clown, and The Host, the streets and other social factors define the sandbox within which domestic Korean designers and the fashion industry get to play with. What Korean people are wearing and not wearing define the range of options available; like a film such as Old Boy having been released in 1975, wild couture styles from the present having been introduced to a top-down, Korean star-centric, pre-Internet Korean public in 1990 would not have had much influence. Things have changed a great deal.
One of the things that I noticed when I got off the plane in South Korea in 1994 was that Koreans are formal. Yes, skirts were far shorter than I was used to back in the United States, and it was strange to see that even office uniforms were and are, technically, miniskirts by more conservative American standards (the traditional definition of the miniskirt since the 1960's was being able to place your four fingers between your knee and hemline).
What really surprised me was that Koreans, for some reason, seemed to think (and still tend to now) that Americans are more wild or risque dressers. I also quickly came to realize that many Koreans also thought that Americans all carried guns, black people are all good singers, or that we can't eat spicy food (despite the fact that more salsa is sold per year in America than ketchup, and all the world's peppers actually originated in the Americas).
Yet, this is because American reality is defined, for most Koreans, by movies and television shows. Still, this is only part of the answer. In Korea, trends and the realm of fashion possibility itself is defined by television and movie stars, whereas the same is not true for Americans, as a rule.
Americans are essentially a casual people. We don't dress up unless we have to and we tend to value comfort first -- we are the land of bad men's jeans, sweatshirts and tees, and "casual Friday" at the office. Outside of our pop culture epicenters in Hollywood and New York, people wear suits to weddings, funerals, and graduations; the same tends to go with high heels and makeup for women, many of whom might wear such things only a handful of times per year outside of formal office attire. Still, tends to be worn when it's a requirement. Most people are comfortable to follow trends to the extent that they are casual or comfortable -- hence the prevalence of hip hop fashion and other similar modes of cool. Personally, I think that if the "grunge" or "hip hop" looks involved uncomfortable shoes or tight-fitting clothes, neither would have ever made it. The same goes for the horrible biker shorts craze, heavy metal t-shirts, or jelly shoes. Those fads were as comfortable as they were aesthetically criminal.
Koreans, however, are essentially a formal people. Until very recently, suits or other formal wear were requirements for men, as were dresses, heels, and makeup for women. As any Korean knows, a man walking the streets in the 1990's in shorts and sandals would be stared at, or a woman without makeup in an office situation thought of as rude or lazy. The tendency in Korea is for there to be no limit to the amount of effort one should put into one's appearance, hence the "pancake makeup" look of the 1990's, men wearing a 3-piece suits and ties on the hottest days of summer, and even the widespread graduation gift of eye-and-nose surgery for high school girls (and now boys, too!) about to enter college. Plastic surgery rates are among the highest in the world, in a country whose per capita income still doesn't match many more developed countries that have more people with the disposable income to afford such procedures. Indeed, such competition is natural in a culture that still requires pictures on one's resumes. In a competitive environment, who can afford to not look their best, even to the point of surgically altering one's appearance? It goes without saying that one would spare no amount of effort or expense to be as dressed up as possible.
So, I came to realize that Koreans actually tend to have the expectation (or at least experience the pressure) to actually look like the people they see on TV. Any trip down below the river to Apjujeong or Kangnam should confirm that; it seems like there are more plastic surgery clinics than fast food restaurants. Indeed, if one has the money, why not get something nipped, tucked, cut, or clipped? It is certainly just as easy as buying a hamburger, as long as that's what you want.
This is the "ratcheting effect" that characterizes Korean-style competition. Out of ten people, if one person has something better, the other nine want it as well, which brings up the overall level of competition; and once you reach that level, like a one-directional ratchet wheel, one can never go in the opposite direction. I see that as responsible for the intense competition in private education: if my neighbor's kid goes to 3 hagwons, my kid will go to 5, which will make the next person send their kid to 7, which...
The cycle is endless. I think the same is true for fashion, especially for women -- if something can be done to be "prettier" -- then it must be done. Of course, 10cm high heels makes any woman look "prettier," but the question is really of how far one is willing to go in order to look pretty; in the end, it comes down to the question of how high a priority appearance is. And for many American women, such sacrifice for the sake of fashion is too high a price to pay for most situations. Hence, most Korean women wear high heels most of the time, and most American women do not wear heels most of the time. Even when required for work, many women wear running shoes during the commute.
Clearly, the formality factor is a crucial one. Historically, the yangban has come to define Korean culture, since it seems like 99% of Koreans claim that elite lineage, even though, in history, they made up only 10% of the population. But when Koreans imagine back into the past, few people see themselves as descended from white-clad cheonmin, but from fashion and status-obsessed yangban nobles, sitting around in their finest robes and playing the kayageum, instead of sweatily dancing in dirty white clothing while beating a buk on a farm. Such is the formal way in which most Koreans even imagine their past reality.
So status is something Koreans think about a lot, whereas this is what Americans inherently do not think much about, in a culture that literally invented the notion of egalitarianism. Korea has a different history, with a culture steeped in Confucianism, which defines the individual only in relation to others. So even now, ethical behavior and normalcy is defined by the group, which strictly regulates its members; and when it comes to clothing, trends, and style, standing out too much can get you in trouble -- or at least stared at and gossiped about.
What does this all add up to? Up until around just a few years ago, Koreans tended to conform to trends and were generally followers. Domestic stars, television, and the fashion industry tended to define what was to be worn and what wasn't -- hence, everyone wore a lot of black-and-white, everyone had the same makeup scheme, and haircuts were practically uniform. But then something significant happen, something central to the life of any fashionista worth her salt in Korea -- the Internet.
Suddenly, fashion information was bypassing the filter of the domestic cultural elites, and Koreans (especially women) began to track fashion trends directly. Anyone who subscribes to the "Best Dresser" Daum cafe knows this, which has millions of members, who collective collect, analyze, and digest American and European fashion magazines, paparazzi shots of mostly American stars, and all sorts of other bits of information.
Indeed, where did the recent nose and belly piercing trends come from? Or even the previously unspeakable idea of getting tattoos? Surely, the domestic fashion press would have never pushed such ideas on the public -- they got these ideas directly. In a recent interview with a Seoul tattoo artist, for example, the recent acceptability of tattooing can be traced to David Beckham's back and Nicole Ritchie's ankle. I doubt any of the domestic Korean press would be recommending young Koeran girls to get tattoos, which are still technically illegal in Korea, although actually easy to get.
Yet, Korean culture does seem to place certain limits on what people wear. These are not limits set by comfort, but rather by a certain kind of social conservatism that still exists here. Yes, there are many more fashion and style options in Korea now, and dress styles have become far more expressive and experimental, but the Confucian-style monitoring of others keeps things from getting too wild.
For example, despite the fact that most Korean women still don't dare to bare their shoulders, skirts can travel the way up to pretty extreme heights. Many Americans would find it pretty scandalous to go to a wedding in a super-short miniskirt, or wear the same to a university lecture; Koreans have simply gotten used to it. As I mentioned, even many bank uniforms are technically miniskirts by American standards, and heels over 5-6 inches are considered a bit too sexy for anything other than going to a club or a cocktail party.
However, if one wear a spaghetti-strap blouse revealing the shoulders, or a sweater in which one can see cleavage, Koreans generally consider that too risque. Or exceedingly bright colors, or unusual patterns, or tattoos, or belly-rings. Young kids do challenge the norms, but the norms still exist.
The combination of "at all costs" formality that keeps people dressed "to the nines" tempered by a Confucian social conservatism that tends to keep things a bit on the conservative side, which is then pushed and stretched by new norms and styles that are now being directly connected to via the Internet, results in a Korean street that is very pret-a-porte, or "ready-to-wear."
But contrast, Japanese fashion is quite peculiar and unique, but perhaps too much so. To continue the analogy, much of Japanese fashion on the street seems more couture, in that it is a bit wild, peculiar, and often just not very generalizable anywhere outside of Japan.
The average Korean working girl in Myeongdong, or the hipster in Apkujeong, or the student in Shinchon, would be considered well-dressed by almost any standard. From where I sit, Korea is where mostly American and European styles get filtered through a Korean lens into something altogether different than the original. Add in a dollop of Japanese influences, and you get a lot of palatable options.
And when Koreans meet a high-fashion trend, it gets expressed on the street, much more than it does in many other more comfort/casual countries such as the US. So, while there was a rising interest in shoes in the USA with Carrie's character from Sex and the City, it was nothing compared to the shoe trends here, where people are very concerned with brand names and wearing something that looks like what they've seen on TV. After all, most Korean women actually wear high heels every day, whereas most Americans don't. Who's going to actually buy more shoes?
Now, as the overall fashion-consciousness of the Korean people meets international trends, Korea is becoming a fashion hotspot to watch. And now, even The New York Times found itself way behind existing Korean trends recently, when it declared that there was a "return" to conservative fashion as a new trend in the US, whereas in Korea, this look had never left. Quoting ourselves from a recent column we wrote for the English-language SEOUL Magazine,
One look that has always been uniquely Korean is marked by more conservative hemlines and less revealing cuts, as well as a generous helping of bows and ruffles, which themselves are often accented with flowery and other feminine patterns: what this writer calls the “pretty princess” look. This has been expressed in 50's-era formal dresses, matched outfits, or formal suits common on Korean streets, often accompanied by thick opaque stockings, shiny pumps and matching bag, and a dress coat. These days, the look has become a bit more 60's-era "mod" with sleeker, minimalist lines, but the overall effect is the same: formal, feminine, and demure…
한국 여성들에게 늘 사랑받는 고유한 스타일. 이 스타일은 깔끔하게 떨어지는 헴라인과 최대한 노출을 배제한 디자인, 주로 리본이나 러플로 장식되고 꽃무늬나 다른 여성스런 패턴으로 포인트를 주는 특징이 있어요. 기자는 이런 스타일을 "예쁜 공주님"이라는 이름을 붙였어요. 이런 스타일은 원래 50년대 쯤에 유행한 포멀한 드레스같은 데서 보여지던 건데 최근에는 한국 거리에서 포멀한 수트르 보여지고 있어요. 이런 옷들은 보통 도톰한 불투명 스타킹, 반짝반짝한 펌프스에 잘 어울리는 백과 드레스 코트 등과 함께 코디하죠. 요즘에 이런 룩들은 좀더 60년대 풍 "모드"가 되어서 좀 더 매끄럽고 미니멀한 라인이지만 전체적인 느낌, 포멀하고 페미닌 하고 얌전한 그런 느낌은 그대로인 경향이 있어요.
…If one wants to truly understand the nature of frilly feminine beauty here, one need only wander through the forests of the many Cyworld pages that are temples of worship for Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly, and are noticeably absense of the more risqué and sexy Marylin Monroe. Indeed, such homages, as well as the looks that accompany them, exist in a mode that is, as the NYT article quoted a fashion forecaster saying, “absolutely without irony.”
프릴이 잔뜩 달린 페미닌한 여성스러움의 진실을 알고싶다구요? 그럼 싸이월드의 수많은 미니홈피를 보세요. 이거야말로 오드리 헵번과 그레이스 켈리를 숭상하는 사원같을 테니까요. 좀 더 외설적이고 이고 섹시한 마릴린 먼로의 느낌같은건 완전히 찾아볼 수가 없어요. 정말로 이런 존경심을 자신들의 스타일로 그대로 표현하는 현상은 NYT의 패션 기자가 말한 "아이러니라고는 철저히 배제한" 것이 현실에 존재하는 것이라고 해도 과언이 아니에요.
Although Koreans might not recognize it as such, with its bolero, fitted cut, and higher hem, and combined with the feminine frills and detailing, this is so unmistakably a Korean style. Combined with the slipper-like summer slings, this is a Korean-style dressy casual that doesn't exist in other places. For better or for worse, such styles are the result of a lot of special and unique factors combining together in a truly Korean way. Not in Italy, Japan, Paris, New York, or LA would one see such a style.
Indeed, Korea's unique position has produced not just a trend, but a permanent look in Korea, one of many produced by the unique mix of cultural influences and social tendencies here. I do think this can result in a lot of attention being paid to Seoul, as it was the case just last week, when several design associations joined together for the first time to call the largest single fashion show series to date "Seoul Fashion Week" instead of holding several separate different exhibitions, as they have for nearly two decades now.
Now, with the support of the Seoul Metropolitan Government (the mayor made a point of attending a show last week as the city renewed its support for Korean design associations and promotion of Korean fashion abroad), it is easy to imagine Seoul being mentioned along with Tokyo, Milan, Paris, and New York within a few years, and for people to be as concerned with what everyday Koreans are wearing as much as the clothes top Korean designers are producing.
When that happens, one will be able to truly call that a "Korean fashion wave," as people from all over the world, through magazines and television, stop to take notice of what people are and aren't wearing on the streets of Seoul and perhaps even Pusan. Who knows? Would anyone have thought of Korea as being a major destination for auteur cinema and hot new directors and their films even in 1998?
A lot can happen in a mere 10 years. Let's wait and see. In the meantime, join me in keeping a closer eye on the streets of Seoul, as we see the upside and some good effects of Korea's obssession with status and appearance. For as bad as those things may be in many other ways, one can't help but note that Korean fashion is looking very fresh and innovative, both on and off the runway.