True love, South Korean style: Part 1

I have always had a slight obsession with sneakers. Starting with a fluorescent pink and blue pair of Skechers back in 1999, I have moved through various colours, styles and brands. I remember days spent with green and yellow Asics on my feet, bright blue Nikes on the dance floor of some dodgy afternoon nightclub and red and white Adidas that took me through my London backpacking days. The current pair are purple New Balance (I have no brand loyalty) with a bright lime green trim. Hot. Do I like them enough however that I would want husband to also own a pair (or do I like my husband enough that I would also like him to own the very same pair)? That would be a pretty definite no (not so sure whether it is more a no to the first question or the second but it is a no nevertheless). And, once again, it is this response (leaving aside for the moment the fact that I am not comfortable with full frontal nudity in public baths, that I believe my old, grey tracksuit pants are an acceptable form of clothing outside of the home and that I do not need kim chi with every meal) that very clearly highlights I am not South Korean because, as far as I can tell, true love South Korean style is all about the matching.

It seems that there are three levels to the so called "love match" phenomenon.

1. Matching sneaker model but not colour

This trend does not warrant a photo or even more discussion as these couples are clearly not really committed to each other.

2. Matching sneakers in both model AND colour

This is by far the most prolific trend on the street today. Obvious commitment to each other displayed here.

3. Matching sneakers topped off with complete matching outfit 

Now this is true love and it must surely mean that marriage/mortgage/babies, or some other significant coupledom event, is imminent.

As you can see from the snapshot of photos above (I have many, many more) I have become slightly obsessed with love matching and not just for the photo opportunities it presents. I feel compelled to understand the rather significant relationship dilemmas that love match brings up. (I am making the assumption here that the love came before the sneaker/outfit choice and not the other way around, i.e., person in red tracksuit did not walk down the street and find another person in red tracksuit and then they fell in love, but I am prepared to be proven wrong on this front.)

I have broken up the issues that I feel love match poses into three categories  of relationship dilemmas that a couple would have to face should they choose to enter into this loved up state of sameness.

Relationship dilemma no. 1: The decision on timing
Who decides that the couple is "love match" ready?  Is there a pre-determined time in every couple's relationship where love match is expected to take place and this graduation to sameness is a signal to the world that deeper commitments will shortly follow? (This raises a related relationship dilemmas: how long should you hang around in a relationship waiting for the love match decision?) Is the decision to enter love match bliss even a choice made by one or both of the couple. Perhaps one day they  suddenly find themselves in a sneaker shop where they simultaneously purchase the same shoe? Or perhaps same sneakers are thrust upon them by a well-intentioned adjuma (Korean for middle-aged woman). 

Relationship dilemma no. 2: The responsibility for choice
Assuming that there is a right relationship time for love match to occur and that moment has come, who in the couple is responsible for choice of said sneaker and/or outfit? In my own world of coupledom bliss, husband does not particularly care for my purple/lime green sneakers and I can't say that I am overly keen to wear his black with orange stripe Nikes. So what would happen in this instance if we were loved up Koreans? Would (or should) we break up over a sneaker style disagreement? 

Relationship dilemma no. 3: The ownership of the sneaker/outfit
Say that we did agree on the sneaker and/or outfit choice and it works for a time, surely there comes a day when one half decides for no particular reason that the sneaker is no longer working for them. What would this mean for the couple and their love? What about the reverse: where you continue to love the sneakers but no longer the partner? Could you continue to wear the sneakers if you break up? Could you buy out your other half so your next partner could inherit the sneakers? Or must the sneakers be forever destined for the cardboard box of relationship memories? 

No answers yet...
And the answers to the above questions are? I have no idea, but because I am more than a little intrigued (some might say perhaps even a little bored) I have decided to make understanding the love match phenomenon my mission in South Korea. Stay tuned for Part 2, the results of some impromptu encounters with love matchers where I seek answers to the relationship dilemmas raised above.  

Soul to Seoul - all about the matching soles!