If there is one place to see where the new face of Korea is thriving, it's at Shinsegae mall.
World recession? A slumping won? Not apparent here, a gleaming ten-story multiplex shopping center, with three Starbucks, designer boutiques, an ice rink, golf driving range, a massive spa and an ultra-modern cinema attached to an upscale restaurant. The Korea Times reports the total cost to be 1 trillion won.
I first heard whisperings of Shinsegae when other foreigners began excitedly mentioning the arrival of Gap (!) and Banana Republic (!) in Pusan. In true Korean style, it was all built in a flash (no mind that part of the cinema roof has already collapsed), and a few weeks later I went to see for myself.
Gap was, expectedly, out of my price range. Even though most of the clothes are made in neighboring China, the prices are three or four times that of the States, making a cotton t-shirt almost $55. The best selling items appear to be colorful baseball caps with GAP stitched in white lettering, another indication of the Koreans' obsession with labels.
I first visited Shinsegae with my adorable, stylish Korean friend Monica. If anyone knows about label lust, it's her. She has designer purses worth the price of a used car. Although she is 24 years old, she lives with her parents like most young Koreans, and a majority of her paycheck goes toward expanding her wardrobe. The last bag she bought, a small quilted black Chanel, cost her about $2,600 and the wrath of her mother, who made her stand in her bedroom with the purse held over her head until she cried from the pain of keeping her arms up for so long.
Our first stop was Starbucks, where a plastic cup with the green logo splashed on the front informs others that you can afford to pay $3 for a cup of coffee. Monica has told me that some Koreans will carry the cup around all day, long past the last sip of coffee, re-filling it and proudly displaying the Starbucks name. It reminds me of the Africans I encountered on my travels, who would decorate their cell phones with rhinestones, choose the loudest ringtones and wear them on cords around their necks, just to draw attention to the fact that they could afford a mobile phone (sometimes they couldn't pay for the minutes, but hey, they had the phone).
World recession? A slumping won? Not apparent here, a gleaming ten-story multiplex shopping center, with three Starbucks, designer boutiques, an ice rink, golf driving range, a massive spa and an ultra-modern cinema attached to an upscale restaurant. The Korea Times reports the total cost to be 1 trillion won.
I first heard whisperings of Shinsegae when other foreigners began excitedly mentioning the arrival of Gap (!) and Banana Republic (!) in Pusan. In true Korean style, it was all built in a flash (no mind that part of the cinema roof has already collapsed), and a few weeks later I went to see for myself.
Gap was, expectedly, out of my price range. Even though most of the clothes are made in neighboring China, the prices are three or four times that of the States, making a cotton t-shirt almost $55. The best selling items appear to be colorful baseball caps with GAP stitched in white lettering, another indication of the Koreans' obsession with labels.
I first visited Shinsegae with my adorable, stylish Korean friend Monica. If anyone knows about label lust, it's her. She has designer purses worth the price of a used car. Although she is 24 years old, she lives with her parents like most young Koreans, and a majority of her paycheck goes toward expanding her wardrobe. The last bag she bought, a small quilted black Chanel, cost her about $2,600 and the wrath of her mother, who made her stand in her bedroom with the purse held over her head until she cried from the pain of keeping her arms up for so long.
Our first stop was Starbucks, where a plastic cup with the green logo splashed on the front informs others that you can afford to pay $3 for a cup of coffee. Monica has told me that some Koreans will carry the cup around all day, long past the last sip of coffee, re-filling it and proudly displaying the Starbucks name. It reminds me of the Africans I encountered on my travels, who would decorate their cell phones with rhinestones, choose the loudest ringtones and wear them on cords around their necks, just to draw attention to the fact that they could afford a mobile phone (sometimes they couldn't pay for the minutes, but hey, they had the phone).
Monica and I then wandered through Marni and Marc Jacobs, both busy on this particular Sunday afternoon. Monica ogled a red purse, and studied a dress she was sure she could re-create with her sewing machine. After passing women with multiple shopping bags, we took an escalator down to the food hall on the 1st floor.
The floor was a maze of counters, serving uncommon "Western" food like smoked salmon salads and club sandwiches (none cheaper than $10), as well as cakes, Turkish wraps, mandu dumplings, Chinese dishes, chocolate truffles. The "Water Bar" was a gleaming turquoise counter with dozens of different kinds of sparkling, flavored or flat water. Next to that stood the European imports - a $12 package of instant oatmeal, a $5 bottle of Orangina. A large section of the hall is devoted to a Korean favorite: bread. Koreans have embraced bakeries the way Rose clings to Jack at the end of Titanic. Dunkin' Donuts, Paris Baguette, Tous Les Jours - they can't get enough pastries, bagels, loaves of bread. Unfortunately, most of it is crammed with sugar, not a whole wheat option in sight, but they sure love the stuff.
Looking around the mammoth mall packed with people, I thought about how America is clearly not the only consumer-driven country. Sure, I think people everywhere like to buy things, but the rabid obsession with stuff - electronics, labels, clothing, designers - is this a result of "Westernization"? Or would it have happened regardless of our influence?
When I walked into class a few weeks ago with a red knock-off purse I'd bought in Beijing (for $15, I might add), my elementary school students all started pointing excitedly at the Chloe label.
"Teacher, is it real? Real Chloe?" they asked.
I was taken aback that they had any idea what Chloe was - at their age, the only Chloe I knew was my mom's cat. Perhaps you'd find this with upper-middle class 4th graders in the States too, but I'm not sure.
I'm also not sure if all this consumerism isn't going to get Korea into a lot of trouble. As we've seen in the past few months, every time we open a newspaper, Americans are now literally paying the price of years of buying stuff, most of it they couldn't afford in the first place. The story continues to unfold, but many agree that this recession may actually be a good thing, a chance to step back and re-evaluate what we actually need.
I think it's wonderful that the Korean economy has grown so much in such a short period of time - they are a hard-working country that has risen from the dust in only a half-century. But like many Americans, my friend Monica is in a heap of credit card debt, charging all her Starbucks coffees and designer bags with just a swipe.
As she said as we were leaving the mall, "Ah, Jenn. Shinsegae is so good, I think." She paused. "But for me, maybe also so bad."
The floor was a maze of counters, serving uncommon "Western" food like smoked salmon salads and club sandwiches (none cheaper than $10), as well as cakes, Turkish wraps, mandu dumplings, Chinese dishes, chocolate truffles. The "Water Bar" was a gleaming turquoise counter with dozens of different kinds of sparkling, flavored or flat water. Next to that stood the European imports - a $12 package of instant oatmeal, a $5 bottle of Orangina. A large section of the hall is devoted to a Korean favorite: bread. Koreans have embraced bakeries the way Rose clings to Jack at the end of Titanic. Dunkin' Donuts, Paris Baguette, Tous Les Jours - they can't get enough pastries, bagels, loaves of bread. Unfortunately, most of it is crammed with sugar, not a whole wheat option in sight, but they sure love the stuff.
Looking around the mammoth mall packed with people, I thought about how America is clearly not the only consumer-driven country. Sure, I think people everywhere like to buy things, but the rabid obsession with stuff - electronics, labels, clothing, designers - is this a result of "Westernization"? Or would it have happened regardless of our influence?
When I walked into class a few weeks ago with a red knock-off purse I'd bought in Beijing (for $15, I might add), my elementary school students all started pointing excitedly at the Chloe label.
"Teacher, is it real? Real Chloe?" they asked.
I was taken aback that they had any idea what Chloe was - at their age, the only Chloe I knew was my mom's cat. Perhaps you'd find this with upper-middle class 4th graders in the States too, but I'm not sure.
I'm also not sure if all this consumerism isn't going to get Korea into a lot of trouble. As we've seen in the past few months, every time we open a newspaper, Americans are now literally paying the price of years of buying stuff, most of it they couldn't afford in the first place. The story continues to unfold, but many agree that this recession may actually be a good thing, a chance to step back and re-evaluate what we actually need.
I think it's wonderful that the Korean economy has grown so much in such a short period of time - they are a hard-working country that has risen from the dust in only a half-century. But like many Americans, my friend Monica is in a heap of credit card debt, charging all her Starbucks coffees and designer bags with just a swipe.
As she said as we were leaving the mall, "Ah, Jenn. Shinsegae is so good, I think." She paused. "But for me, maybe also so bad."
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