Barbershops in Korea: Cutting through tradition

A Korean laborer with a topknot in the late 19th or early 20th century. For many Korean men, the topknot symbolized masculinity and manhood. Robert Neff Collection

For many men, hair loss can be devastating to one’s vanity and confidence. But in 19th-century Korea, the loss of one’s hair was nothing short of emasculating. In the early 1900s, Lillias Underwood, an American missionary in Korea, described the deep importance that Korean men placed on their hair.

“No matter how old [a Korean male] is, without a top-knot (sangtu) he is never considered a man, addressed with high endings, or treated with respect. After assuming the top-knot, no matter how young, he is invested with the dignities and duties of a man of the family, takes his share in making the offerings and prayers at the ancestral shrines, and is recognized by his ancestors’ spirits as one of the family who is to do them honor, and whom they are to protect and bless.”

Thus, the Korean population was horrified when a government edict declared that starting on Jan. 1, 1896, all men would cut off their topknot. Many were in disbelief when they discovered that their monarch, King Gojong, was one of the first to submit — unwillingly — to the new law. Sallie Sill, the wife of the American minister to Korea, in a letter to her son wrote:

“The poor King was one of the first victims, and he resisted but it was of no avail. No Korean could be found who would cut his hair, knowing [how] he felt, so a Japanese barber did it. The old Tai-won-kun [the king’s father] felt so bad and considered it such a disgrace that he [suffered] a kind of a fit and had a hemorrhage from the nose in consequence.”

A melon seller and his potential customers display the contrast between traditional hairstyles and the shorter styles introduced through political and social reforms. Robert Neff Collection

In the days that followed, unwilling men were seized in the streets and their cherished topknots were forcibly cut from their heads. Outrage spread quickly and unrest engulfed the kingdom. Seoul became isolated and starved for supplies — no one dared enter the city for fear of losing their hair.

By the middle of January, a new proclamation was issued declaring that haircuts were no longer compulsory. But the damage had already been done. For many, including members of the royal family, short hair had already become a part of society.

There were undoubtedly several Japanese barbershops in Seoul at the end of the 19th century, but the first Korean barbershop was not established until 1901, when Yu Yang-ho (or Hong Jong-yoon, depending on the source) opened his shop in Insa-dong. Other establishments followed.

In October 1905, Kim In-su opened a “Western-style” barbershop in the Jongno area offering haircuts, shaves and “top-knot dressing.” Even An Hong-ho, the emperor’s personal barber, apparently gave up his position to open his own shop near Gwanghwamun.

Cutting hair was clearly a lucrative business. The editor of the Korea Daily Mail provided a humorous — if not mocking — description of the emperor’s barber.

“The newly-appointed imperial barber seems to have floated into the sea of affluence, for it is said on very good authority that his majesty has ordered the payment to him of 300 yen. If this is correct we now understand the raison d’etre of the white frock coat and black silk hat that have lately flashed upon us and given such exquisite amusement.”

By 1907, men were strongly encouraged to adopt short hair, but many balked at the idea and fled the capital. Those who acquiesced to the pressure of shearing off their topknots were reluctant to travel into the countryside. According to Korea Daily News:

“The moment they are seen by any of the uibyeong (members of the Righteous Army) they are seized and an explanation demanded as to why they cut off the topknot. If they can prove that they are either ex-soldiers or students they are released, but if not, they are usually killed.”

Following Korea’s 1910 annexation by Japan, barbershops became very popular. In 1915, there were 226 shops in Seoul: 140 were owned by Koreans, 70 by Japanese and the remainder were likely Chinese.

It became quite common for men to get their hair cut on holidays or on special occasions that required a neat appearance. But not all hair could be trimmed in the barbershops. Barbers were prohibited from cutting nose hair or hair growing out of the ears — a hardship that many older readers might relate to. Of course, that didn’t mean it never happened.

In Incheon, Chinese barbershops were popular spots for cheap haircut. On Oct. 19, 1924, a Korean customer’s ear was badly cut at Ssangbaldang Barbershop. The injury was severe enough that the customer required hospital treatment. Given the ban on trimming nose and ear hair, the authorities and newspaper editors were somewhat suspicious about the circumstances of the accident.

A houseboy receives a haircut from a peer at a U.S. army camp in Gapyeong, Gyeonggi Province, during the winter of 1952-53. The green stain on the image is shaving cream accidently smeared on the camera lens by Fred Dustin. Robert Neff Collection

Following the 1950-53 Korean War, short hair became the norm. It was hygienic, easy to maintain and presented a tidy, neat appearance. Visits to the barber were no longer a special event but rather a regular part of daily life.

Barbershops became gathering places for local men, especially in small villages and towns. In the late 1950s, Richard Rutt, an Anglican priest living in a rural village near Pyeongtaek, Gyeonggi Province, wrote vividly about his daily life. The village had three barbershops, each with what he described as “a slow and gentle” rhythm.

Rutt’s words paint a tranquil, nostalgia-provoking scene: sitting in the chair as the barber carefully cut his hair, while the mirror before him reflected “the thatched houses, and hens pecking about in the village street.”

From his account, it’s clear that the village barbers didn’t confine their trade to their small shops. He wrote:

“The village barber was still trimming heads in front of one of the houses. Most people do not pay him in money. If they do, they give him 100 hwan a time, but they prefer to give him one mal of rice and one mal of barley every year, in return for the year’s barbering.”

I still fondly recall my own experiences with Korean barbershops when I was a young soldier stationed in Wonju, Gangwon Province, several decades ago. Our camp’s barbershop was run by a Korean man and his young female assistant. The barber — who, if I remember correctly, had learned his trade while serving in the Korean military — was deft with his scissors and always engaging in his chatter.

Once the haircut was finished, the assistant would gently apply aftershave cologne to your neck and around your ears, then give you a quick shoulder and neck massage. In many ways, that little barbershop was a welcome respite from the monotony of camp life.

But in Wonju, as some of my seniors told me, there were other types of barbershops that offered more than just a haircut. Depending on the number of barber poles on the storefront, one could tell what kind of “services” were available. The U.S. military command banned soldiers from visiting off-base barbershops, likely because of hygiene concerns or perhaps because of the rumored “extra services.”

Over the past couple of decades, the image of barbershops has changed dramatically. In the 1990s and early 2000s, they were often found in run-down buildings and regarded as haunts for elderly men looking for a cheap trim. Trendy youth avoided them, as did middle-aged men who didn’t want to be seen as aging. The large windows were frequently covered with a white vinyl film, hiding the empty, dated interiors from view.

Now, however, barbershops have become extremely trendy. They are bright, stylish spaces with large windows that invite passersby to witness young, well-dressed barbers at work — plying their trade with grace and confidence that suggests success. Of course, reservations are often required, and they come at a steep price.