Perhaps a slight generalisation but, so far, I have found Koreans to be a rather romantic group. Romantic dramas on TV are the most popular genre, K-Pop ballads reign the charts, romantic and dramatic musicals are all the rage (think Ghost on stage). The males appear to take romance in their stride - it is not uncommon for the man to carry the bag of his companion in the street, to ensure his partner has the seat on the bus or train, to present flowers at the train station hook up and to willingly partake in (many) couple selfies! Padlock love is the latest romantic phenomenon I discovered this week: on top of Mt Namsan, where the Seoul Tower resides, couples can pause for a moment on a Heart Chair ("the magical chair that helps two people fall in love") before hanging their $9.00 "Lock of Love", which symbolises eternal love or, to be precise, "Love Padlocks represent commitment and love between two peoples).
But the most romantic act of all would surely have to be love match. Voluntarily choosing to dress the same as your partner has to be the ultimate in coupledom, in romantic bliss, in loved-up excitement. Seoul's international airport departure lounge seems to be where the trend really takes off, besotted loved up couples heading to some exotic destination, dressed the same.
A Korean friend is perplexed by my continued obsession with love-match. To her, a long-time fan of the same-same sneaker dressing with her husband, it is bizarre behaviour on my part that:
a) I find this in anyway odd; and
b) that I protest against it.
Up until three days ago that is.
Last Thursday, it was my ten year wedding anniversary. The most romantic thing my husband and I have experienced over the past ten years would be our wedding (please don't tell me that anyone seriously counts childbirth as romantic) where I pretended to sing Celine Dion's epic ballad "My heart will go on" and he warned me to beware of lions in our tent during our impending honeymoon - a camping trip in Southern Africa (it was camping - certainly not "glamping", luxury camping which, btw, you can do here in Itaewon if you are so inclined).
Ten years equals three children, three inter-country moves and eight house moves. We have three fights on rotation: you spend too much (him to me), you don't cook or clean (me to him), your turn to put the kids to bed (both of us). We often unintentionally start the same conversational topic with friends and can finish each others sentences (the sentences are usually related to the three fights above and not anything romantic). There are no surprises.
But that was up until three days ago.
Three days ago happened to be a Saturday and, begrudgingly, we had decided to hold our annual wedding anniversary dinner (only two days late). As is the norm, the evening was preceded with a fight about who was getting the children fed, bathed and into bed (me). This was followed by the usual:
"Do I have to wear something other than jeans and sneakers?", (me).
Which then led to:
"Seriously, it has been ten years. Let's just stay home and watch a movie." (Again, me. Can you pick the more romantic one?).
But that was up until three days ago.
Three days ago happened to be a Saturday and, begrudgingly, we had decided to hold our annual wedding anniversary dinner (only two days late). As is the norm, the evening was preceded with a fight about who was getting the children fed, bathed and into bed (me). This was followed by the usual:
"Do I have to wear something other than jeans and sneakers?", (me).
Which then led to:
"Seriously, it has been ten years. Let's just stay home and watch a movie." (Again, me. Can you pick the more romantic one?).
If we were following our usual pattern, next would be a walk down the street, a bite of some delicious Korean barbecue, a glass or two of soju and making it home in time to squeeze in a few episodes of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart (me) or ABC's Q and A (him).
But, as I was soon to discover, this was the day that everything changed.
It started with husband politely summoning me to the bedroom for what I expected to be an anniversary present. I anticipated a piece of jewellery - new earrings or a necklace would have been welcomed. I wasn't holding my breath though for, as the years have gone by, we have entered the territory of practical present giving, also referred to as "seriously unromantic present purchases." Think socks and the budget pack of Bonds underwear. The "gifting" of his old i-phone to me as a Christmas present two years ago (so he could justify buying himself a new one) is a great example of this phenomenon (although, to be fair, my complete failure this Christmas to even get him a present should perhaps also be mentioned). This time, the present was not jewellery but nor was it a practical present. Instead, it was this baseball shirt.
Two of them.
Welcome to love match!
According to husband (and probably everyone I know), I have been banging on about love match for far too long and that it was time I truly experienced what it was like. So, he was proposing that for our ten year anniversary we go love match shopping. Together. For a complete outfit. That we would wear. At the same time.
According to husband (and probably everyone I know), I have been banging on about love match for far too long and that it was time I truly experienced what it was like. So, he was proposing that for our ten year anniversary we go love match shopping. Together. For a complete outfit. That we would wear. At the same time.
One of my many unanswered questions about love match is how the decision on clothing is made. The couple I interviewed in Part 4 (by interviewing I mean cajoling my Australian friend to ask them one question) stated that they went shopping together for the express purpose of buying the same. I have often thought this to be impossible. But after 4.5 hours of my life on a Saturday night I take this back. It is possible, it just may be a little frustrating, a little confusing, perhaps even a little maddening and, at certain times, one of you will have to take over as the other will inevitably lose interest (me with the hat, husband with the pants).
Crucially, you must adjust your desires somewhat before starting out. For me, I had to quickly come to terms with the fact that lilac high top Converse were never going to make the cut and husband had to realise that green camouflage shorts are not for everyone (ie, me). Note to shops that sell jeans: it would be really useful if you used the exact same fabric when making male and female jeans. It was an impossible task to exactly match jeans (as we discovered after visiting various jean shops - there are so many shades of dark blue out there). In the end, I agreed to wear male jeans (somehow I don't think it would have worked the other way around).
We had our moments. Husband lost it in Gap when, again, I pointed out for the umpteenth time in ten years, that I can't wear cream (and nor should he). I lost it in Nike when, yet again, he tried to make em wear grey flannel tracksuit pants. He seems to forget that I have long left my homey-girl years behind me (I may have never actually been a homey girl but you get what I mean) Nor was I ever a rapper/hip hop beat-box artist from New York so that oversized peak hat in fluorescent red and white stripes is not really an option. But thanks husband for thinking that I ever was! Perhaps our lowest point in the evening was when another same-same couple walked into Uniqlo obviously needing to update their look. Five minutes later and out they walked again, satisfied in their purchase of matching t-shirts. Husband and I contemplated giving in at that point. Maybe some couples just can't do this. Maybe it isn't for us. Maybe it is just all too hard. But we felt we had come so far, invested at least three hours of our lives at this point and neither one of us was willing to admit defeat. We couldn't turn back. We had to fight on for us, for the kids, for the story!
So we did. We persevered through disappointments over incorrect sizing at sneaker stores, lack of exact matching denim for men and women, fights over grey versus black, disputes over baggy versus slim cuts, and arguments over baseball caps, straw hats, flat caps, peaked caps and boat hats (if you ever need a hat - come to Seoul!). And we ended up looking like this.
How do I feel, having joined the crew of love-match, you ask? I admit that I started off the night desperately feigning cold so I could legitimately put a jacket over the baseball shirt. Husband did not allow this. But by the time we turned up at Hongdae, our shopping destination, and an area Wikipedia reports as being "known for its indie spirit, urban street arts and underground band musicians", I had loosened my arms from across my chest and was relatively relaxed standing next to another same-same couple.
By the end of the night, which will now be referred to as the second most romantic night of my life (I guess wedding must remain as number one), much like our Dutch friends, Michiel and Marieke, who embraced couple dressing a few months back (Part 6), I kind of felt like our same-same dressing was giving us secret super powers. Like, "Hi there. I can successfully choose couple outfits." Or, because that is probably not the world's most useful secret super power, I might go with "I'm in love with him and we can make you happy." Or, because that is a kind of weird secret super power, I think I might just stick with this. "I'm ok. He's ok. And we are hanging out together." (I told you I was romantic).
What proved to be most disappointing however was that I don't think anyone was stalking us to surreptitiously take our photos. The shop assistants who we asked to take our photos (numerous times), the random people we stopped on the street (to take our photos not for random questioning on what they thought about us - husband wouldn't let me do this), and our babysitter when we got home totally dressed the same, were all completely non-plussed by our love matching. Which may mean that I have to step up the romance just a notch. Next anniversary I'm going for hanging a love padlock at Seoul Tower then posing for a couple selfie on a Heart Chair in a same-same outfit, with a K-Pop ballad playing in the background. Husband - will you join me?
