In my corner of small-town Canada, shopaholics and fashionistas define shopping as a hobby, a pastime and, in some cases, a lifestyle. Inarguably, no season is more sacred than the weeks preceding Christmas, during which bargain event slogans brandish local newspaper headlines. As a notoriously last-minute shopper in college, with a jampacked class schedule and frugal budget, I recall awaiting the annual event known as “Midnight Madness,” a solitary shopping extravaganza that typically lasted from 8pm to midnight. Equipped with comfortable shoes for rushing, credit cards and shopping lists, my fellow consumers and I would line up outside the town’s modest one-story shopping mall an hour in advance just to get the goods. Since my arrival in Seoul in 2002, however, “Midnight Madness” has taken on an entirely different meaning.



As it happens, on a chilly Wednesday evening I found myself suddenly in need of American two-dollar bills framed in glass, a hammer, some live eels, Shaun Cassidy on vinyl and a neon pink faux fur shawl. Well, not really in need, but had those purchases actually been necessary, I knew I would be able to find each and every one at Seoul’s oldest market, Namdaemun, named after the iconic south gate of the formerly-walled city. Eagerly skipping past the neon-lit tiger honoring the Lunar New Year, I embraced the labyrinth of alleys: from the crisp market air to the strong aroma of roasted silkworm larvae accosting my nostrils. It’s been said that shoppers can find everything under the sun at Namdaemun Market “except nuclear weapons and tanks,” so I was keen on the prospect of emptying my bank account and testing out the bold claim. Surely there was something that belonged in my clutches.

I armed myself with comfortable walking shoes, as the size of Namdaemun rivals that of my entire suburban hometown. Turning left at the first narrow alley, I began to understand what I was getting myself into. It was an attack on the senses: vendors packed themselves closer and closer together, grills sizzled, feet shuffled, and animated speech and laughter grew louder. Although the crowd was largely Korean, there was a notable modicum of international faces and tongues. Locals swarmed around stalls for late night eats, paired with bottles of the domestic beer. Rows of pig’s feet, freshly plucked chickens, mammoth-sized oysters, live seafood, sundae (Korean blood sausage), the fiery but irresistible dumplings known as tteokbokki, and a popular glass noodle dish called japchae, are in high demand. I immediately detoured to pick up a dinner- plate sized kimchijeon, a spicy, pancake-like goodie that can be described as a “kimchi pizza,” comfort food for late night winter wandering.



Having recharged my batteries, I paused at a wide intersection to regain my bearings. Around me, in no particular order, is: an optical shop (cheap glasses in an hour); a ginseng store with glass jars containing specimens of the stimulating plant that bring to mind the shelves of a mad scientist’s lab; a souvenir shop featuring child-sized hanbok, traditional Korean clothing, embroidered with Mashimaro, Pucca and other pop culture characters; and a shop selling Ed Hardy knock-offs. Another 50m and it’s an assortment of blinking windup toys, hats of every style imaginable, a TonyMoly makeup franchise and two side-by-side shops selling soccer jerseys featuring every player from the UK’s David Beckham to France’s Zinedine Zidane.

There’s more. Past the bare outskirts of this vast shopping mecca are entire alleyways dedicated to bedding and pillowcases, pots and pans, and still another selling mostly fruit and preserved goods in bulk.



Several tourist information booths in and around Namdaemun Market are helpful in keeping track of where you are in relation to the subway, but they close at 6pm and, if you want to know what is sold in the popular arcades, you will have to go in to find out. In my opinion, exploration is the only way one should tackle the maze-like Namdaemun. After all, what is madness without a little mystery? As the evening progresses to the midnight hour, I make my way to the markets of Dongdaemun, which is within walking distance of Hoehyeon Station, a common access point to Namdaemun proper. This is where the hardcore shoppers do their greatest damage and the action lasts until the sun rises. As a fashion district where traditional markets and towering, modern shopping malls sit side by side, Dongdaemun boasts an estimated 30,000 shops. Due to its vastness, it’s tough to know where to begin.

I boldly venture into “Pyounghwa Market,” an enormous, multistory complex buzzing with activity. The market operates from 9pm until 6am and focuses on apparel for middle-aged women. I’m greeted by colorful displays of umbrellas, earrings, scarves, and other items that appeal to the female demographic. While digging through a promising array of blouses, I’m politely informed that there are no dressing rooms, no refunds, and to make my choices carefully. Although it is a wholesale market, selective shoppers are welcome, but don’t make the mistake of spending too much time mulling over one item, as you’re sure to see it throughout the evening. Getting the best deal is a trick of the shopper’s trade and I recommend testing out a few vendors, assuming you’re up to the challenge.

Once again in need of fuel, I stop for odeng, and am treated to the fish cake served on a bamboo skewer, hot off the grill. While indulging, I meet a fellow lady from my native country in search of merchandise for her local boutique. She is shouldering two gigantic bags containing various Ed Hardy T-shirts, which she tells me are trendy in Toronto. She will have to make several trips to retrieve her wares, as her stash includes a Korean-style lantern, numerous pillows and a curtain set. She showcases her bounty of metallic buttons and beads for hand-made jewelry, a variety of monogrammed scarves, a dozen feather-adorned headbands and a handful of mini-photo album cell phone charms. By now the pedestrian streets are thronging with merchants, hagglers in animated action, and people eating, mingling and resting. It’s 2am and the night is young for the Seoul shopping scene.



Strolling around the lively streets, I am frequently surprised by the sheer volume of goods that people are carrying, and the multiculturalism of the crowd. Buyers from Japan, China, Russia, the United States and Latin America create a lively, if not chaotic, combination. It’s the nature of madness that comes off as unexpectedly welcome and appeals to my inner explorer, eager to discover a new alley in a place I’ve long called home. There’s a sense of community in this megaplex of shopping mania, united by the common goals of a good bargain and jovial experience. This is the shopping mall that never sleeps. In the words of Bo Derek, “Whoever said money can’t buy happiness simply didn’t know where to go shopping.”
They certainly didn’t give the streets of Seoul a shot.

By Kelly Frances McKenna

*The series of columns written by expats is about their experiences in Korea and has been made possible with the cooperation with Korea Magazine.