of Korean Wave. At a shop in Shida, the young sales women skillfully and enthusiastically demonstrated how to wear hair accessories like Korean stars in TV dramas. Several retail buyers readily acknowledge their taking advantage of the Korean Wave. The majority, however, are not Korean Wave fans and have no time for star-chasing or fan activities. Hence, I approached them not with a straight shooter like, “why do you sell Korean clothes?” but questions
concerning their trade, such as “how did you get into the clothing business” and
“how did the shop start?” I tried to locate their resources and responsibilities for starting up and maintaining their businesses. For the most part, I was looking for signs that would illuminate the ways Korean style has been constructed at the intersection of market, space, and culture.17 In Taiwan, Korean fashion can carry the following three connotations: (1) a homogenized taste for the mass public, (2) a practical solution for the individualist shop maker, and (3) a sourcing stopover in the transnationalized fashion industries.
Korean fashion as Homogenized Taste
To explain how Korean fashion works as a homogenized clothing style for women in Taiwan, it’s useful to look at the stories of the newest “Korean fashion” store owners in Shida. Miao, the youngest informant in my study, opened a little boutique with her family’s help right after graduating from university. Her shop sign is juxtaposed to the words, “Korean Brand.” In the teal-green shop where a wooden rocking horse sits, she is often seen earnestly introducing accessories, blouses, bags she personally selected from Korea. A couple of streets down, Tutu was busily setting up her shop and interviewing a sales applicant. She had been a sales manager for a clothing store in the area named after Ehwa Women’s University in Seoul (Lihua). When I first met her, she was a salesperson at another new Korean fashion shop in Shida. Two week later,
17 During my shop visits, I took notes on the shop name, product types, product styles, pricing, interior decoration, customers, service, sales pitch, presentation of the salespeople, etc. To allow natural conversation to emerge and time to observe, I often tried on clothes and solicited style tips.
she opened her shop around the corner, selling “authentic Korean” (zhenghan) blouses, blazers, and dresses she brought back from Korea.
Miao and Tutu both opened their shops in once quiet residential alleys that had only become “invaded” by new clothing shops a year ago. Competition was fierce and most new shops make some kind of symbolic affiliation with Korea, such as announcing “Just Arrived from Korea” on chalkboard signs. When asked about the characteristics of Korean fashion, shop owners or salespeople often mention superior slim-fitting silhouettes and quality fabrics, but many
acknowledge that they are a matter of sales pitch rather exclusive quality of clothes made in Korea. Adding to the liberal definition of “Korean fashion” are multiple routes of supply and unclear labeling.18 When a store advertises Korean goods (hanhuo), it could mean a number of things, like made-in-Korea apparel imported by the shop owner, made-in-Korea apparel imported by Wufenpu merchants, OEM production in China by Korean company (hanzu), and
knock-offs of Korean apparel made in China (hanban). It is well known that many shops carry a mixture of these possible products to take advantage of the
symbolic value of Korean goods.19 Under this circumstance, Korean fashion is driven into a game of speculation by price competition and branding—that is, promotion by small business services rather than by corporations.
The result became a homogenized and mainstreaming understanding of Korean fashion, seen in the high rate of identical outfits. Many informants mention the difficulty of selling something edgy and non-mainstream20 to their Taiwanese customers, who are mainly budget-conscious students and office workers. EJ, a shop owner in the more upscale and trendy Dongqu, is a veteran clothes seller who has different resources and insights from most buyers I met.21 Married to a Korean and living half of the time in Seoul, her passion is “all things related to Korea and making money” (interview, 12 January, 2012). Based on her experience, Taiwanese consumers easily fell prey to the power of branding. She used to pay fashionista bloggers to write advertorials for apparel and bags. At a
18 Although garment importers are required to identify the originating country, material, and care instruction under the commodity labeling law drafted by the Ministry of Economic Affairs, a good amount of them have no clear labels.
19 SIKI’s store is one of the few shops that makes distinctions between the different kinds of Korean fashion by way of production. The price range can be big.
20 These are often clothes that didn’t sell well, such as a shirt attached to a long chiffon skirt with a high cut in the front, revealing shorts inside, or an all-gold tight blouse (Miao interview, 30 October, 2011; Miere, interview 22 May, 2012).
21 She has an apartment in Seoul, which makes it easy for her to access the market compared to buyers from Taiwan. When I followed her to Dongdaemun, her husband dropped us off and picked us up afterward. Sitting in the traffic jam in Dongdaemun at midnight and commenting on buyers from Taiwan and China, EJ remarked that “we will do the shopping in a graceful style.”
meet-the-blogger event, she was surprised by the high number of readers dressed identically as the blogger. “I am not a fashionable person. But I know how you can sell something even if it’s ugly as hell.” She cites a Korean shopping website (CKK) as an example of successful manipulation and talked about how she took advantage of the branding effect:
I got into buying from Dongdaemun’s wholesale market because of CKK. I knew apparels sold on CKK are from Dongdaemun, not from their own production. For two months, I went there [Dongdaemun] every other day and browsed nonstop. I discovered clothes sold on CKK were really from there. I followed the pictures and tracked down the shop labels. I sold
“CKK” clothes online at a lower price and told people that I sourced from the same place. I made a lot of money. But people also complained why there wasn’t a CKK logo. I was asked whether it’s a knockoff. The thing is, if they have been branded really well, they’d think it’s fake. Taiwanese people really buy into the myth of logo. (interview, 12 January 2012).
If the value of paodanbang comes partly from its introduction of
rare-to-find commodities from abroad, one of the unspoken mishaps in shuttle trade is necessarily importing commodities already available, even abundant, in the local market. Although it is not a phenomenon exclusive to Shida, the sudden increase of new clothing shops there made visible the paradox of sourcing
transnationally but offering few diverse goods. As a result Shida became a cheap retail zone, “another Wufenpu” (Huang 2012, 28). What is Korean about Korean fashion became purely price based. The characteristic of Korean fashion, as many sellers instinctively acknowledge, is “whatever sells the best.” This new market reality impinges on another group of shop owners in Shida, who are critical of Korean fashion but use it as a practical means to support real dreams.
Korean Fashion as a Means for Individualist Shop
Before Shida became “another Wufenpu,” it was known as a low-key area with small shops. The anonymity of “small shops” is significant. The enterprising mode in the small shops often takes the creative, cultural, and community
desires into consideration. Many sold clothes also sourced from overseas
markets such as Tokyo, Osaka, Hong Kong, Seoul, and Bangkok, but they did not sell clothes based on the promotional value of the manufacturing country.
“Play” was a key word I often heard when being in their shops. For example, Poetica, a self-described “fashion player,” enjoys meeting customers who “get”
her products and know immediately how to “play” with it. Madam Chen likes to
comment in detail on the ways Japanese and European designers “play” with fabrics, cutting, and pattern. Once at Jewel’s shop, as soon as I mentioned that I was looking for blazers, her face lit up and she said: “let’s play this leisurely.”
They set up their businesses in Shida before the area became trendy in a mainstream way. Facing the influx of Korean fashion, they invented ways to embed Korean fashion in their unique shop style. I will devote the following to discussion to one shop’s story.
From 2003 to roughly 2009, Ping and Ring’s shop was the only bright spot in the dark alley leading from my previous apartment to the night market. Once in a while, a poster showing large suitcases would appear on their closed door, indicating they are on a buying trip to Japan. They sold mainly women’s clothes and zakka items sourced from Osaka and Tokyo’s wholesale markets. However, the shop is more than a clothing store embracing simple, vintage, girl-like Japanese fashion, its interior setup, atmosphere and items/merchandise on display reflect an interest in independent, DIY fashion and art. Besides a painting of Yoshitomo Nara’s rebellious girl, the work of local young illustrators and designers and the DIY flyers reflecting the owners’ family network and community connection often decorate the walls.
Classmates in elementary school, Ping and Ring started the business around 2000. A school counselor by day, Ping rented a stall in Shida Night Market selling hand-made skirts made by her. Shida was dark and so uncommercialized at the time that finding a space to rent went through personal networks rather than the real estate agents. Once the business picked up, the landlord took back the stall. In 2002, Ping and Ring set up a shop a few blocks down in a quiet
residential alley. They started to source from Japan to fill the increased business demand. Few years later, rising yen and rising Korean fashion started to close in on her business. According to Ping:
We resisted sourcing from Korea for a long time. Why did we resist? Our friends who went said there is good stuff there. We thought we would check it out whether or not we want to carry it. I was surprised the clothes there are not as ugly as I thought. Well, I don’t like the kinds around here. I found the market caters to all sorts of needs, such as our preference for simple, good quality, Japanese-style clothing, not the loud Korean-style fashion (interview 18 January, 2012).
Although Ping and Ring were able to find Korean goods from Dongdaemun that fit the theme of their shop, the market environment in Shida was changing rapidly. Gone was the leisurely feeling at her store. On Friday nights I often couldn’t get into her shop, which has become crowded with young girls (and
boyfriends) drawn to the area’s new fashion shops. On weekday afternoons, when their shop returned to its leisurely pace and community atmosphere,22 Ping told me she was unhappy about the crowd. “We know how to make money.
But the two of us wanted more than making money.” It was a profitable time.
They were urged to franchise and retire (become the boss). Ping was against the idea. The shop was a solution to financial needs at first. In the process of
running their business, they became inspired by similar shops in Japan that combined work and dreams. She said:
It’s tiring to tend the shop, but not tending the shop makes me feel I am out of touch. If I don’t tend the shop I won’t know how to select clothes
because I have no interaction with the customers. In the long run this shop will lose its sense of place. Tending the shop keeps me real (interview, 18 January, 2012)
Shop operators like Ping and Ring typically use Korean fashion items to complement their shop’s individual character. However, Korean fashion in
Taiwan is more than commodities; as indicated throughout this paper, it brought changes to the marketplace, customer makeup, and cultural struggles. Facing new competition and customers whose tastes are too syrupy and sensual for them, Ping and Ring have flexed their creativity and enterprising flexibility by opening various experimental “small shops” in the neighborhood as well as other locations. This includes a café, a shop mainly showcasing hand-made clothes by her family and local designers, and a clothing store offering various DIY/art classes taught by return customers. For them, the rise of Korean fashion as goods and business prompted them to reflect on and confirm their business and cultural vision. Korea is hardly the only fashion sourcing location. Poetica, who sells one-piece dresses in her DIY pink boutique in Shida, is looking for the right moment to go to China. “I have to admit I am a little tired of going to Korea.
But I am afraid to go to China. So I want to go with a tour group” (interview, 20 January 2012). However, the scale of China’s garment industries and market is still discouraging her from taking action. What sort of Taiwanese merchants have the resources to deploy Korea fashion’s Chinese connection?
Korean Fashion’s Chinese Connection
One of the ways Korean apparels are made in the context of
transnationalized fashion production, as mentioned earlier, is through OEM
22 One of the important characteristic of Ping and Ring’s shop is the caring interaction between them and the customers. Return customers often help out at the store, stocking and bringing Ping and Ring meals and snacks.
production outside of Korea. Yet, there is still another means of producing
“Korean fashion” which further decenters the Korean brand. Known to Korean fashion companies as a practice of making various knock-off versions based on Korean design, this method creates a tri-local, trans-local connection between Taipei, Seoul, and Humen—a garment wholesale town near Dongguan. It is well known that Wufenpu wholesalers would buy samples in Dongdaemun and take them to factories in Humen on the same journey for ordering cheaper knock-offs (Hu 2008). In my research, those informants with the Chinese connection tend to be large-quantity dealers with significantly more experience in different sectors of the fashion industries besides retailing. As a result, they are interested in the competitive possibility from manufacture’s end.
Jessie, the retailer, business career instructor, and tour guide for buyers, has a rich career profile in the fashion industries. Her mother was a shuttle
trader-turned apparel wholesaler. Jessie grew up watching her mother bring home giant suitcases of clothes, medicine, walkman and what not from Hong Kong, Japan, and South Korea. Though she did not want to follow her mother’s footstep, she set up her own business selling accessories in several markets in her hometown, Kaohsiung. In her mid 20s, she opened an apparel company that provided retail, wholesaling, and make-to-order production. Many of her clients were the Wufenpu wholesalers. The pattern designs came from either her company or the clients.
One of the qualifications Jessie advertised on her blog as well as on the career training courses was her factory-running experience in Humen, China.23 After building her connection with the Taiwanese business (taishang) circle through years of wholesale buying, she took over a garment factory of about 40 workers and took orders from Japan, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the US. Although she closed the factory after just a year,24 the experience shaped her niche and pitch. On her blog, she offers practical consideration about doing business in China and responds to questions from just about everyone. She actively dispels Korean fashion fetish and challenges Taiwanese people’s bias about China. She writes:
Korean goods are still made in China. Those who shuttle trade from Japan also get made-in-China goods. China has the largest labor market in the world and will continue to be for at least 10 more years. In fact, Koreans also open factories in China. In our subcontractor factory, there are also pattern design orders from Korean companies (Jessie 2006).
23 She teaches business career startup courses offered by the National Youth Commission.
24 She said “managing workers in China is different from Taiwan, not to mention I was female, in my 20s. No one listened to me” (interview 27 March, 2012).
For Jessie, China is the “real source” of all fashion because just about every brand depends on its production capacities. SIKI, a big retailer who runs two Shida shops with his wife, has also tapped into China’s manufacture power to help him establish a brand. “We go straight to the factory. We don’t go to China for ready-to-sell clothes. That’s the Wufenpu mode. We make orders with our own designs and the fabrics we found” (interview, 3 May 2012). SIKI makes it clear that he is interested in product development (kaifa), not designing clothes.
He said:
We are not designers. We do it in a simple way, usually with certain elements that catch our fancy. We mix and match. Take this t-shirt fro example, we like it and would like to add a pocket. So we use lace, net, matched color, or contrast color. We would also buy some brand products, like an expensive skirt that cost 4000-5000 NT. Then we go to Korea or China looking for
materials, [order it to be made], and price it differently. A brand is just a logo.
The thing is they really used that particular material” (interview, 3 May 2012).
In his office in the store’s basement which also doubles as a storage room, SIKI showed me fabric samples from Korea and China, which seems to be his passion and a more critical advantage than factory connection. To save trouble, he only contracts out to factories run by Taiwanese businessmen (taishang). The real competition in the fashion business, according to SIKI, rests in the material and manufacturing upgrade, which also becomes a matter of national policy on economic and technology development.
The merchants who regard South Korea as a stopover in the
transnationalized fashion industries are highly aware of the state of decline in Taiwan’s garment industries. They maintain a flexible and ambivalent
engagement with Korea in order to locate a new competitive advantage in Taiwan. Emphasizing quick style turnover almost every week, SIKI’s business is practicing its own version of “fast fashion” through interactions with
Dongdaemun and Humen. The manufacture capacity under post-socialist, capitalistic China has allowed product distinction as well as cultural distinction (Chang 2004; Hu 2009). As for Jessie, she considered herself a reluctant Korea fashion buyer and tour organizer. When I asked her whether all the influx of Korean goods in Taiwan has enriched the garment industries and fashion sensibility, she shook her head and said:
I think it’s all bad influence, and I am part of the problem. I take people to do wholesale buying in China and in Korea. They import the stuff and make money off Taiwanese people. Then with that money they go on more
buying trips abroad. Taiwanese money is going out constantly. A better alternative may be us bringing something out to sell—probably more likely in China, but not in Korea” (interview, 27 March 2012).
buying trips abroad. Taiwanese money is going out constantly. A better alternative may be us bringing something out to sell—probably more likely in China, but not in Korea” (interview, 27 March 2012).