InterviewKorean American's mission to introduce 'bojagi' culture to US

Bojagi founder Judy Kim / Courtesy of Epume Studio

SAN FRANCISCO — When Judy Kim left her high-powered job in the American fashion industry, she wasn’t just leaving behind two decades of career success. She was also confronting the uncomfortable truths of fast fashion: its speed and glamour masked deep environmental and ethical costs.

Kim’s career soared at I.N.C. International Concepts, Macy’s private label, where she rose from intern to vice president. But witnessing the pollution tied to textile manufacturing in Asian factories shattered any sense of accomplishment.

“What I was doing was not a positive impact — it was actually negative. My heart was really sad,” she recalled during a recent interview with The Korea Times at a cafe in San Francisco. "What began as a childhood dream inspired by my grandfather, a tailor in New York City, gradually turned into something hollow."

A soul-searching trip to Korea realigned her path. For the first time, she saw the beauty in her heritage and the power of traditional Korean cloth "bojagi" — the centuries-old fabric wrapping that represents warmth, hospitality and respect.

Rediscovering roots through fabric

If Korean folk art could be distilled into a single vibrant form, she says, bojagi might capture its essence best.

For centuries, Koreans have used these patchwork textiles to wrap, carry and protect everything from gifts to food and books. Bojagi is more than just cloth — it’s a symbol of fortune and hospitality, as signified in the word “bok,” meaning luck.

“When I saw so much bojagi being represented in Korea, especially during the holidays, I realized just how much meaning and history it holds. Bojagi stands for hospitality, warmth, love, respect and good fortune,” she said.

Bojagi fabrics designed by Judy Kim / Courtesy of Judy Kim

That deep connection drew her back to her roots after years in America, where she’d almost hidden her Korean identity in an effort to “be more American” at school and in the corporate world.

“My earliest memory is with my grandmother, always wrapping up my lunch box — that really stuck with me. Or when moving houses, I remember hearing people say, ‘If you’re moving, you need to wrap things in bojagi.’ And at weddings, I remember seeing bojagi too, thinking how pretty and precious it looked. It’s the fabric that makes the wrapping special,” she recalled.

Unlike its Japanese counterpart, furoshiki, which grew out of bathing traditions, bojagi has royal origins. In Joseon's royal palaces, it was used in ceremonial exchanges, carrying connotations of dignity and fortune. This deep history — and bojagi’s environmental benefit as a reusable wrapping — sparked Kim’s vision: to introduce this art form to the United States.

“I realized there was no brand for bojagi in America. No one was sharing this tradition, and I could be that person,” she reflected. “This was my chance to reconnect with my heritage and also reimagine sustainability in fashion.”

A bojagi class in San Francisco / Courtesy of Judy Kim

Birth of modern bojagi brand

Since founding Bojagi studio in San Francisco in 2023, Kim now designs and creates what she calls modern bojagi. While rooted in Korean tradition, her pieces are distinct: large-format geometric compositions inspired by modern art, sewn from natural fabrics like linen rather than polyester.

For Kim, sustainability is inseparable from heritage; she wants her bojagi to be both biodegradable and beautiful, reflecting a philosophy of zero waste in gift-giving.

Her designs serve multiple roles — from door-hanging textiles to wine bags reimagined as reusable wraps. Each piece carries both aesthetic and symbolic value, sparking curiosity in the West while also rekindling nostalgia among Korean Americans who remember their grandmothers wrapping food or belongings in bojagi.

Yet, growth has been challenging. Adoption remains slow, with most interest coming from environmentally conscious customers or Korean Americans seeking reconnection.

“People often stop to admire and ask, ‘What is this?’” Kim said. “But turning that curiosity into active adoption takes time. It’s a long journey.”

Comfort through dumplings

Alongside her work with bojagi, Kim founded the Mandoo Club during the pandemic — a hands-on cooking workshop, both virtual and in person, focused on Korea’s beloved dumpling.

With family roots split between tailoring and cooking, she naturally carried both crafts in her blood. During COVID-19, she began teaching online mandu (dumpling) workshops as a way to seek comfort and stay connected with friends, and what began as a personal act of healing soon grew into a cultural bridge.

Korean dumplings, mandu / Courtesy of Judy Kim

“I felt alone and sad, and I needed comfort. Koreans say their language of comfort and love is food. When you say hello, you’re really asking, ‘Have you eaten?'" she explained.

“Food is our love language, and I wanted to feel that connection and comfort again. So I started teaching family and friends through virtual workshops, because I missed them so much. I thought, ‘Hey, we can all do this together,’ and I began teaching how to make mandu — which is quintessential Korean comfort food,” she said, recalling the moment she started her business in 2020.

Today, Mandoo Club has collaborated with companies like Lucasfilm, where entire creative teams bonded over folding dumplings together. For Kim, this was transformativezz: “Food is our love language. Teaching mandu isn’t just about cooking —it’s about creating community, comfort and cultural exchange.”

K-culture and rising tide

Kim acknowledges that Korean culture’s global wave — propelled by K-pop, dramas and beauty products — has made her work easier. Young Americans now approach her workshops recalling bojagi scenes in historical dramas, while older Korean immigrants rediscover an art they thought forgotten.

“It feels like timing worked in my favor,” she said. “The world is ready to embrace these traditions as both heritage and innovation.”

Looking ahead, Kim envisions bojagi expanding from personal use to larger spaces —hotels, restaurants and public art installations. She dreams of seeing it claim a more visible place in cities worldwide, not just as craft but also as an emblem of sustainable design.

At its core, her work blends two essences: comfort and connection. Whether through fabric or food, her practice is about healing the fracture between cultures, generations and even individuals within themselves.

“As immigrants, so many of us were taught to forget. Through bojagi and mandu, I am reclaiming what was hidden — and sharing it so others don’t have to forget,” she reflected.

"I want to keep being an ambassador for bojagi culture and keeping Korean heritage alive."