http://english.yonhapnews.co.kr/news/2013/02/28/0200000000AEN20130228003800315.HTML
By Cho Jae-eun
Contributing writer

LONDON, March 5 (Yonhap) — It’s not every day that you get a pair of iconic, reclusive, but immaculately tailored artists peering through your windows. But when precisely that happened to Lee Ki-chul, at his London store Hurwundeki, the Korean expat-turned-entrepreneur didn’t bat an eye.

“A surprised customer came to me one day, saying that (renowned British artists) Gilbert & George were hanging onto the windowsill, glancing at the shop. They eventually came in and complimented the interior of the shop, especially the stripped walls,” says Lee, at his hair salocafe, near Bethnal Green Station in East London.

“After that day, the pair came almost every day and we all became friends. (Model) Kate Moss and (rock singer) Pete Doherty often came to the clothes shop. It received so much attention when I first opened, it was beyond anything I had ever imagined.”

Lee Ki-chul poses inside his shop, Hurwundeki, in East London, with a cup of coffee he brewed himself (Photo: Cho Jae-eun)

Sipping a cup of fresh coffee he has brewed, the 45-year-old entrepreneur points to a wooly cape hanging on the wall, swearing that it’s a vintage item from the Napoleonic Era. The cafe portion is packed with uber trendy accessories: stuffed animals, ruggedly cut wooden tables, antique chandeliers — and a sofa wrapped in saekdong (colors used in traditional Korean costume) patchworks.

Hurwundeki, meaning “hair” in the dialect from the Korean island of Jeju, seems to be an amalgamation of life experiences that have influenced Lee — memories of his life growing up on the island, times as a 20-something hair salon owner in Seoul, and a period when Lee was a vintage-loving arts student in London, rummaging through flea markets in search of hidden treasures.

“Now all the cafes in London have these stripped down, unfinished walls, but what influenced me to do this to my walls back when I opened the shop was a childhood ‘trauma’ of sorts,” Lee explains.

“My family didn’t have enough money to paint the walls in our house and I was so embarrassed that I never invited any of my friends to come over. I guess in a way, stripping down the paint in my shop was a sort of therapy for me,” he says, laughing.

A haircut at Hurwundeki

As a little boy growing up in Andeok, Jeju, Lee says that he felt trapped. “I grew up in the depths of the countryside in Jeju. I felt like the kids I grew up with didn’t dare to dream. It was as if we weren’t allowed to have ambitious dreams and go off and be successful,” he says.

“But I wanted to see the world. I would daydream about giving speeches in some big auditorium, with the U.S. president in attendance.”

Soon after high school, Lee left immediately to go live in Seoul, and at his sister’s insistence, became a hair stylist.

“She kept telling me I had a natural talent for hair. I saw it as my escape from Jeju.”

Aside from cutting hair, Lee sells clothing by up-and-coming designers at Hurwundeki.

By his late 20s, Lee, now far from his “suffocating” hometown, had a decade’s worth of success being a hair stylist and salon owner in Seoul. This success moved him towards yet the bigger dream of making the Hurwundeki name global. In 2000, he decided to face up to his lifelong ambition — and ultimate fear — of opening a business in London.

“London was, and still is, an extremely important city to me,” he says, listing some British artists and designers like Vidal Sassoon and Alexander McQueen, whom he admired as a young man.

The feeling of being trapped started creeping up on him again in Seoul, as Lee felt himself grow tired of the uniformity of trends, of “looking at the same outfits on the streets, day-in-and-day-out.”
“But as much as I loved and looked up to London, it was also a source of great fear. If I failed in London, my creativity would never really be validated.”

After graduating from the Vidal Sassoon Academy, Lee made the bold move of opening Hurwundeki near Brick Lane, East London, in 2004. His innovative shop, merging hair, fashion and cafe culture, immediately enjoyed local media attention. By 2011, culture magazine Time Out named Hurwundeki one of its top 40 shops in London.

Lee admits that he has always been quite “gifted” in being entrepreneurial. As a student, his first taste of business in London came when he started selling shoes in Portobello Market that his sister bought from Dongdaemun Market in Seoul and sent to him.

With the money from selling these shoes and some money from his salon business in Korea, Lee opened store after store in London, after the first in 2004. By 2010, Lee owned four stores in London under the Hurwundeki name. “At the height of our popularity, the clothing store on Commercial Street had to close its doors so that customers could only enter one at a time,” says Lee.

The business’ rapid ascent, however, came to a grinding halt in the face of the global economic crisis. Forced to close down three of his four shops by 2011, Lee now operates the salon, cafe and clothing shop under one roof.

“The recession was a big hit in the fashion industry and my store, like all brands, suffered,” he says. “It’s hard sometimes. The other day, my wife (who helps around the shop) said to me, ‘I didn’t come to London to wash dishes.’ Any business worth its salt is going to have ups-and-downs. And my business will always be an ongoing process.”
In a strange twist of fate, Lee decided to go back to the place where, as a little boy, he had so wanted to escape from. In an attempt to push his business forward, Lee went back to his roots, opening a restaurant/cafe on Jeju last year named Osorok, which serves up organic dishes using home-grown vegetables Lee grows himself. He says the restaurant/cafe is the first move for the Hurwundeki brand to go global, and that he has been eyeing Beijing as his next destination.

He still misses Korean food, his parents and friends back home. But after 11 years in London, he admits it’s often difficult to readjust to the “Korean” way of doing things.

“I saw my service staff at Osorok being trained and was so shocked that they were expected to bow to customers at a 90 degree angle. It was quite disgusting actually,” he says, his forehead creasing into a frown. “I am not saying I am British but I just wish that the service mentality in Korea was more natural.”

This natural approach, Lee says, is important for him, in his belief that service or entrepreneurship shouldn’t be forced.

“I think customers recognize when service is coming from the heart. And you have to enjoy what you do to present this kind of attitude.

If you work for 14 hours a day but you don’t grow tired of what you do, other people will like what you are doing as well.”

Having dipped his toes into fashion, hair, interior design and food, Lee says he wants to focus more on hair in the future.

“Fashion and design are mature industries. There is not much I can add. However, the hair industry is still relatively young and there is much more room for innovation and improvement,” Lee says.

Regardless of the field of expertise however, Lee says that it is working and being creative that drives him every day.

“Like Yves Saint Laurent did, I want to work until the day I die.”

http://english.yonhapnews.co.kr/n_feature/2013/01/03/49/4901000000AEN20130103007300315F.HTML
By Niels Footman
Contributing writer
LONDON, Jan. 8 (Yonhap) — Arriving in the United Kingdom as a single mother with three young children in the late 1980s, Hyeon-ja Jo harbored great expectations.

“I’d thought that Britain would be a great place,” says Jo. “But in fact, when I got here it was rather disappointing. Arriving at Gatwick (London’s second-largest airport), it felt like Gimpo (an international airport in Seoul): small, kind of provincial. Americans are so tall, but British men … weren’t.”

Twenty-four years later, despite her initial misgivings, Jo remains firmly in the U.K. Arriving in the very year South Korea was announcing its own accession onto the world stage with the 1988 Seoul Olympics, she settled in southern England, where she subsequently remarried, raised her family, and built up a successful restaurant business that now employs all of her children.

Hyeon-ja Jo, a 25-year resident of the U.K., stands outside her restaurant Cah Chi in the Raynes Park area of Greater London. (Photos courtesy of Niels Footman)

“For 13 years I had a virtual monopoly on ‘sundae’ in the U.K.,” she says, thus ensuring a steady stream of home-sick Koreans hungry for the pungent blood sausage. Today, however, thanks to Korean food’s growing profile and a spot for Jo’s restaurant, Cah Chi, on the prestigious Time Out list of London’s top 50 restaurants, so many Brits visit on weekends that “you wouldn’t even know it’s a Korean restaurant.”

While the longevity of Jo’s stay may be unusual, her status as an expat Korean in the U.K. no longer is. Britain is now home to somewhere between 22,000 and 40,000 South Koreans, depending on your source. Of that number, a sizable chunk live in England’s southeast, with as many as 15,000 residing in or around a single, otherwise unremarkable town in London’s suburbs: New Malden.

Surprisingly, given its decidedly low profile in comparison with Koreatowns elsewhere, New Malden is now reckoned to be the largest Korean community in Europe, with roots stretching back almost 60 years. Though its origins as a Korean enclave are hazy, Winny Yoon, who works at the Korean Residents Society (KRS), says that New Malden initially attracted Korean residents due to its proximity to Wimbledon, where the early South Korean ambassadors lived. Next came big Korean companies and their managers, followed by seconded staff, adventurers and entrepreneurs, and a steady stream of students.

Jin Mi, on New Malden High Street, is one of the many eateries catering to New Malden’s large community of Korean expatriates.

Today, New Malden is a distinctly London-esque type of oddity: a little slice of a far-off culture, slotted right in among the trappings of Britishness. On New Malden High Street, amid the obligatory Greggs bakery and Tesco and Waitrose supermarkets, are restaurants with names like Asadal and Sorabol, a Park Jun Beauty Lab, a noraebang (karaoke) and, of course, a smattering of hagwon (educational institutes). Nor is New Malden’s embrace of Korea restricted to the southern half of the peninsula: According to Yoon, many of the shops and restaurants there are staffed by some of the estimated 2,000 or so North Koreans to have gained refugee status in the U.K.

For all its growth over the last two decades, New Malden and the Korean community remain newer and less entrenched than much of the Korean diaspora elsewhere in the world. However, a significant number of Koreans are choosing to come to the U.K. of their own volition, or elect to stay here once they’ve arrived.

A common sight in Korea but rather less in the U.K.: a branch of the HanaTour travel agency in New Malden

Mijeong Cho came to England 12 years ago with her husband, who was working for the elevator company OTIS. Her husband now runs his own removal company, catering largely to Koreans, which has suffered of late thanks largely to tightened visa laws stemming the arrival of new immigrants. But Cho has no plans to leave, and is now applying for a British passport.

“I like living here, but we’re here mainly for our kids’ education,” she says. “It’s a big thing for me as a mum knowing that my kids aren’t stressed at school.”

Housewife Jeong-yeon Choi agrees. “In Korea, competition is so severe, but in the U.K., there isn’t any competition,” she says, in a statement that will surely come as a surprise to British mums. “It’s great that children can just learn naturally.”

However long Korean immigrants stay, life in the U.K. is not without its challenges. Complaints abound of officious bureaucracy — especially regarding business regulations — and poor or just painfully slow service. “If you order a bed in Britain, it can take six weeks. In Korea, it’d take 30 minutes,” says restaurant owner Jo.

Above all, though, is the vexed issue of communication.

Two years ago, at a meeting of the Kingston Racial Equality Council (New Malden is located in the borough of Kingston), the incumbent member of parliament Ed Davey said that because much of the Korean population is transitory, “they feel less of a need to integrate and are not as open. That is a challenge for us.” His Conservative Party challenger, Helen Whateley, added: “People on the doorstep express quite a lot of resentment about some of (the Koreans) because they have not learned English.”

While acknowledging their difficulties mastering English — Jo, despite her many years in the U.K., still speaks of her “horror” at speaking English — Koreans living in the area have their own take on the obstacles to integration.

“It’s not easy to get along with British because they don’t open themselves up,” says Misun Jang, who teaches art history classes at the Korean Community Center in Raynes Park, near New Malden. “I think English women can be quite moody and British men don’t show themselves.”

“Koreans in New Malden would like to integrate, but they don’t know the laws well,” adds Jo. “And because we’re immigrants, our jobs aren’t great and life is busy, so it can be tough integrating.”

Located in southwest London, New Malden is increasingly known as the epicenter of Korean life in the U.K.

“Some other nationalities get heavy government support, but Koreans don’t like to ask for support: we are too proud,” suggests Yoon from the KRS. “We are now trying to break down these barriers with local groups, so we’ll see.”

Despite the misconceptions, U.K.-based Koreans such as Yoon seem to believe that British people are — thanks to football stars such as Ji-sung Park and the growing profile of Korean food and products — growing somewhat more aware of their culture. And for a small but growing cohort of immigrant Koreans, Britain, and especially New Malden, is moving beyond being a career step, a place of study or a tourist destination, and becoming, simply, home.

“New Malden’s homey and comfortable for me, and my house is there, too,” says Jo. “It can be a little limited for youngsters — everyone knows everyone else, so they have to watch what they do. But for oldies like me, it’s just right.”

nielsfootman@gmail.com
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