I’m a lunatic when it comes to coffee table books. I have so many that I genuinely believe even the coffee shops—considering their sizes across Manhattan—would struggle to fit them all. That’s how many I own.

Of course, these aren’t just random books. I choose them, based on my interests. A few fashion-related giants, a couple of volumes guiding you through the world of Japanese yokai, some French paysages, a history of sex in Ancient Greece, several issues of Korean Dazed, and Fiona Bae’s The Rise of K-Style, which really informed this article—just to name a few.

Sitting at the very top of the pile—thanks to their petite measurements—are a few copies from the Little Book of [City] Styles series. Specifically, I own the Tokyo, New York, and Seoul editions.

Books on K-culture have been scattered across my tables for a while. I even packed one for my New York–Seoul flight, determined to finally read it. But the flight attendants had other plans, keeping the cabin in perpetual nap mode for 15 hours. I made it to page one.

Truth is, I didn’t know much about Korean design before. What sets it apart? What makes it tick? Japan, for me, was the aggressively deconstructed avant-garde of Rei Kawakubo and Yohji Yamamoto. London, a patchwork of subcultures. New York? Always the robin egg blue of Tiffany & Co.

Korean fashion, though, was a blank spot. 

Seah Jung, who grew up in Seoul before moving to New York, tells me she changes how she dresses when she visits home: “I dress more to blend in with the people in Korea.” She says it helps avoid judgment.

Inadvertently, I’d absorbed some K-pop and skincare (very little) before, but the style itself felt vague: a polished, pretty picture—like an Instagram reel post—a culture, focused around beauty and hyper-femininity. And sure, that’s part of it. As a K-Pop stylist Youngjim Kim, told Fiona Bae in Make Break Remix, for instance—it’s hard to go too creative with idols’ styling, because of fans’ demand to see them dressed “like their boyfriends”.

However, I knew there was more to it as soon as I visited my first Gentle Monster in London’s Selfridges last summer. In that moment, I realized how much I craved an immersive, real-life shopping experience in an age dominated by digital marketplaces and soulless next-day deliveries.

Living in New York—a city whose heart is stitched from rags with soul, rising with the steam from its sewers —had naturally stripped away some of my shopping habits. 

I avoid Fifth Avenue like it’s the lava in the “floor is lava” game; I’ve given up on Saks, Macy’s, and Bloomingdale’s, their shelves consistently naked and their service—unimpressive, or, as my mom likes to remind me, “nonexistent.”

Seoul, though, was different. It felt like a city designed to be experienced. Not just the interiors, but entire streets and buildings seemed to echo the same creative pulse, blending old and new, and the avant-garde. 

Over the next few days, as I wandered the hushed streets of Itaewon, sipped lattes in themed cafés, got lost in Mangwon’s alleys, and bit into nonconformist croissants—their dough as black as my eyeliner on the days I feel edgy—one word kept echoing in my mind: experience.

Seoul is quickly becoming a magnet for creatives from around the world. More brands are opening flagship stores, and the city is gaining recognition not just as a cultural capital, but as a trendsetter in design. As Korean culture dominates music, cinema, fashion, and even luxury, its fashion scene is getting more global recognition. Idols and actors are stepping into the spotlight as brand ambassadors, bringing with them waves of new audiences. (Think Donatella Versace essentially crowning Hyunjin from Stray Kids, who, according to Vogue Business,  had the highest social media engagement rate during Fall-Winter 2024 fashion week.)

But there’s still so much to learn from the way Seoulians approach their cultural spaces—from cafés to boutiques. It’s about more than just products; it’s about the full experience, the art of collaboration, and their unique spin on global trends.

While travelling around Seoul, I was lucky to have guides—old friends, people I met along the way, and new connections who offered me glimpses into their home. Each person loved Seoul for their own reasons: some, because it was their home, some found joy in the abundance of lip tints on the market (although the foundation shades still have space for improvement), and others were just testing the waters of a potential new life. They took me to their favorite spots, nudged me to explore on my own, and shared stories that brought the city to life.

That’s when I realized: Seoul is too layered, too alive to ever fully grasp in one visit. But through this piece, I want to open the door into that experience, letting others step into the city through a different lens.

These stories will dive into some of the coolest neighborhoods in Seoul, blending immersive storytelling with local tips and favorite hangouts from young creatives.