Itaewon,
Where You Have to Make Sure
You Ditch the Map
(or what I’m expecting to see searching up “korea aesthetic” on my Pinterest account)
“There’s no single club or place where everyone gathers,” Kat tells me. “The city is scattered, and each district has its own character.”
Kat came to Seoul four years ago to study art. Just like myself, she found peace of mind and inspiration in exploring cities afoot—learning all about their ecosystems, their peculiar inhabitants, the small particles that make up the big organism.
When I ask which neighborhood she believes is the most popular among cool, artsy kids right now, Kat doesn’t hesitate. In Seoul, where the spots you spend your evenings at depend as much on your mood and state of mind as they do on your style and age—the “coolest” area can still be defined:
“Right now I really feel like it’s Yongsan—that’s where Hannam and Itaewon are.”
I’m a little surprised. Itaewon has been a hotspot since the early 2000s, when it filled up with clubs and bars, becoming a global crossroads. A webtoon by Jo Kwang-jin, “Itaewon Class”, immortalized its chaotic energy in 2016. It’s 2025 now, and Kat says it’s still the place. In a country where trends move at supersonic speed, that’s saying something.
“Those in their late twenties tend to hang around Yongsan and Itaewon,” she adds. “But it’s less about a specific place. It’s about how people with similar interests find each other, and together, they create an atmosphere.”
Maybe that’s why getting lost here feels so right.
Maybe Itaewon is less of a district and more of a feeling—a fleeting gathering of wanderers under a grey, rain-smeared sky.
Kat came to Seoul four years ago to study art. Just like myself, she found peace of mind and inspiration in exploring cities afoot—learning all about their ecosystems, their peculiar inhabitants, the small particles that make up the big organism.
When I ask which neighborhood she believes is the most popular among cool, artsy kids right now, Kat doesn’t hesitate. In Seoul, where the spots you spend your evenings at depend as much on your mood and state of mind as they do on your style and age—the “coolest” area can still be defined:
“Right now I really feel like it’s Yongsan—that’s where Hannam and Itaewon are.”
I’m a little surprised. Itaewon has been a hotspot since the early 2000s, when it filled up with clubs and bars, becoming a global crossroads. A webtoon by Jo Kwang-jin, “Itaewon Class”, immortalized its chaotic energy in 2016. It’s 2025 now, and Kat says it’s still the place. In a country where trends move at supersonic speed, that’s saying something.
“Those in their late twenties tend to hang around Yongsan and Itaewon,” she adds. “But it’s less about a specific place. It’s about how people with similar interests find each other, and together, they create an atmosphere.”
Maybe that’s why getting lost here feels so right.
Maybe Itaewon is less of a district and more of a feeling—a fleeting gathering of wanderers under a grey, rain-smeared sky.
View of the city from the hill of private sector
Known worldwide for its nightlife, Itaewon is loud and undeniably stimulating. As a place for international crowds, its clubs mimic the aesthetics of European nightlife—dark, sweaty, and a little unhinged.
Emily, who moved back to Seoul after growing up in Singapore, tells me how the techno scene has started to catch on here, bringing a touch of Berlin’s latex-clad chaos to the city’s nights:
“There are smaller clubs in Itaewon that play techno, and when you go there, it feels like you’re in Europe,” she says, referencing the crowd in “very thin pieces of clothing, black leather, and sunglasses.” It’s an experience in itself—an electric, pulse-driven escape from the morning greyness and the North Face winter uniforms.
But Itaewon isn’t just about the night.
In daylight, the residential alleys turn into quiet mazes from an old fairy tale, where every curtained window seems to hide a grey-bearded witch-doctor. Narrow houses lean into each other, tangled together by sagging wires like the bare branches of winter trees.
The grey, polished streets glint like the surface of the Han River in the frosty morning light. They twist and meander, folding over hills like restless travelers, pulling you deeper into the depth of the hidden city.
This old-school clutter, this layered, cinematic feeling of retro Seoul, gives Itaewon its strange magnetic pull. It draws in wanderers, creatives, and artists from all over the world.
Emily, who moved back to Seoul after growing up in Singapore, tells me how the techno scene has started to catch on here, bringing a touch of Berlin’s latex-clad chaos to the city’s nights:
“There are smaller clubs in Itaewon that play techno, and when you go there, it feels like you’re in Europe,” she says, referencing the crowd in “very thin pieces of clothing, black leather, and sunglasses.” It’s an experience in itself—an electric, pulse-driven escape from the morning greyness and the North Face winter uniforms.
But Itaewon isn’t just about the night.
In daylight, the residential alleys turn into quiet mazes from an old fairy tale, where every curtained window seems to hide a grey-bearded witch-doctor. Narrow houses lean into each other, tangled together by sagging wires like the bare branches of winter trees.
The grey, polished streets glint like the surface of the Han River in the frosty morning light. They twist and meander, folding over hills like restless travelers, pulling you deeper into the depth of the hidden city.
This old-school clutter, this layered, cinematic feeling of retro Seoul, gives Itaewon its strange magnetic pull. It draws in wanderers, creatives, and artists from all over the world.
Vera, a fashion design student from New York, who loves to take inspiration from K-fashion, calls Itaewon “a melting pot of Seoul.”
"It's hectic," she tells me, "but some of the best food I had was there. It's where I felt the most comfortable as a foreigner — I could see people that looked like me."
Itaewon feels like nowhere and everywhere at once.
I, too, once got lost in the quietness of its domestic streets. Partly, because I walked into the private sector with “keep out” signs in Korean, partly—because I was looking for the Rain Report.
Rain Report, a café I found on the depths of the Internet, one that worked too well for my dramatic personality, is a place for those who find romance in grey skies, taking pleasure in hiding inside a glass box, while the world outside grieves. I dragged my friend towards the shop, choosing the longest routes, hoping to get lost in the urban fabric of the hills. We passed the same fire-bright red gates over and over, admired from afar buildings that seemed to merge the brutalist ruins with aristocratic lion columns.
After an hour of climbing and backtracking, we stumbled upon a stone-paved path shaded by bamboo trees, leading towards a black door.
Vera had been to Rain Report too. “I honestly don’t remember the food that much,” she says, “but I liked the vibe.”
The coffee culture in Seoul is huge. It’s able to entice even the most anti-coffee person ever, luring one in with its size, working hours, and visually striking concepts. Just like Seoul consumes and spits out trends with a supersonic speed, it is able to take the lattes and the pastries, and turn them into timely and fashionable experiences. If I had to choose a few coffee shops that cafés by LV, Tiffany or Maison Margiela could take notes from, I’d send them Seoul’s way.
Vera was the one who first pointed out that cafés in Korea are popular because of their strong concepts (on her first trip, she visited 19). Her list included all sorts of spots, from Every Day Happy Birthday—where, unsurprisingly, every day feels like your birthday—to cultural spaces in Incheon, some of which are built inside 120-year-old churches, evoking the imagery of the Garden of Eden.
Rain Report lived up to my expectations. Almost. It was December, so instead of rain, we got snow—white and glossy like a traditional Moon Jar, falling softly onto our freshly washed hair, tracing stones on the pavement. The desserts matched the vibe: white, fluffy, and milky. Some shaped like Christmas candles, others like smooth stones—delicate, sweet, and melting. Like snow. Very on theme.