Seoul, Korea.Being cute in Korea, yes, no? It seems that I find excuses to inject all sorts of out-of-character things into my wardrobe once heading abroad. It’s like the hall pass of OOTDs. Cat ears? Sure. Oversized college jackets are a go. Bright neon boots? WHY NOT. Today, revealing one of the less embarrassing wardrobe variations from my recent trip to Seoul. Fuchsia is a color I dont remember ever wearing and which I feel like wearing all the time now. I was always one for overcompensation. If I had a car you know it’d be all blinged out to compensate for my tiny.. nevermind.
And pockets! Are they making a comeback only now or have I been oblivious to these wonderous things all the while? My pocket obsession has spread to nearly half my closet now and shows no sign of slowing. I feel like once you’ve had the convenience of a phone at a second’s reach, you’ll never go back. Am I really coming on the blog to talk about pockets now? Is this what I’ve come to?
Anyway. An afternoon in Garuso-gil, the famous tree lined street in Seoul, proved that the trees there looked exactly like the trees everywhere else. Either I need to be there in the middle of autumn to truly appreciate it, or I’ve fallen victim to a massive marketing scam. All the way to the other end of Seoul for trees! Either way, we spent the afternoon cafe-hopping and being very, very awake, bouncing with caffeine by midday. The shopping street in the area was the same I remembered from last year, all very shiny and hip and expensive, but the walk here was what struck us the most. We alighted a stop early at the Apgujeong area, famous for the concentration of plastic surgery clinics there, and were met with a host of posters and mirrors with helpful little arrows and markers showing us how much more beautiful we could be, if only we tried. It was interesting. It occurred to me in that moment that these are the pockets of each country that we keep with us, not so much the shops and coffee and photographs but the conversations, moments of clarity, and fleeting brushes of local life in a different society and culture. We are not called to pronouncement, only understanding.
x
♥jem