ICH Courier

n early February 2026, during the Lunar New Year (Seollal), I visited Gyeongbokgung Palace with my family. Stepping through the gates, I was struck by a profound sense of temporal displacement; it felt less like modern Seoul and more like a deliberate journey back into the Joseon Dynasty. The immersion was driven by a striking sight: a vast majority of the crowd was adorned in Hanbok, topped with the Gat, the traditional Korean black-brimmed hat.
Historically, the Gat was the quintessential headwear of the Joseon Seonbi (scholars). Yet, fueled by the global ascent of K-pop and K-drama, this hat has transcended its dynastic origins to become a definitive symbol of modern Korea and its people.

The 21st-Century Renaissance: From K-Pop to the Vatican
The global obsession with the Gat reached new heights in 2025 with the release of the fantasy animation K-Pop Demon Hunters. Audiences worldwide were captivated by the “Saja Boys” and their stylized Gat, sparking a viral fascination. This pop-culture moment even cast a new light on the statue of St.

Andrew Kim Dae-geon at St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican.
Because the Saint’s traditional hat mirrored those worn by the Saja Boys, the Basilica became a pilgrimage site and a must-visit photo op for fans, leading to unprecedented crowds.
Meanwhile, at the 2019 A/W London Fashion Week Men’s, Joseon-style hats made a notable appearance in British designer Edward Crutchley’s collection. The designer expressed his admiration for the Gat, citing its ‘simple, lightweight, yet powerful silhouette’ as a pinnacle of aesthetic beauty. The Netflix zombie sensation Kingdom (2019) further captivated global audiences, establishing the Gat as a definitive symbol of Korea. As the series expanded into four installments, viewers worldwide have found themselves thoroughly enchanted by the elegance of Korean hats.
The world’s sudden gaze upon Korean millinery is, in fact, a historical echo. Over a century ago, Western travelers were equally mesmerized. In Deux Voyages en Corée, Charles Varat remarked, “The fashion of Korean hats is something Parisians absolutely need to know.” Henri Galley also noted with astonishment: “It is impossible to list all the forms of Korean hats. They are so diverse they seem to number four thousand.” Even then, while hats were a staple of Western fashion, the unique architecture of the Joseon Gat stood apart as something truly extraordinary.

Into the ‘Nation of Hats’
In the Joseon Dynasty, where Confucianism was the bedrock of the state, an adult male was rarely seen without a hat unless he was sleeping. To appear bareheaded was a breach of Ye (Confucian etiquette). Consequently, the state codified a sophisticated system of dress: specific hats were mandated by rank, occasion, and location. There were distinct crowns for royal coronations, ancestral rites, outdoor excursions, indoor study, and even specialized gear for the bitter winter.
Among these, the Gat was the scholar’s favorite. When paired with white robes, the silhouette of a man in a black Gat was said to resemble a crane, symbolizing nobility and intellectual purity.
The Gat consists of a rounded crown called the Daewu and a wide brim known as the Yangtae. Each part requires specific materials and specialized craftsmen The Daewu, or the crown, is woven from horsehair by a master known as the Chongmojajang. Meanwhile, the Yangtae, the brim of the hat, is crafted from fine bamboo splints by the Yangtaejang.
These components are brought together by the Ipjajang (the master hat-maker). The Ipjajang completes the Gat by covering the surfaces of the crown and brim with silk thread or cloth, followed by multiple layers of ink and black lacquer to achieve its iconic finish.While the Gat achieved a level of standardization through

centuries of refinement, the Joseon scholars, despite their penchant for frugality, were incredibly sensitive to its aesthetics. Over 500 years, the height of the crown and the width of the brim ebbed and flowed with the fashions of the era. The beauty was in the details: a slight curve (teujip) in the flat brim, a lacquer so deep it appeared transparent, or subtle floral patterns hidden within the lining—an expression of seonbi aesthetics that favored understated, hidden beauty over overt opulence.
The Gat, which defined Korean style for half a millennium, remains a vital part of our identity in the 21st century. The ancient techniques of working with horsehair, bamboo, and lacquer are not lost; they are preserved as intangible cultural heritage, kept alive by the steady hands of contemporary masters of the Chongmojajang, Yangtaejang, and Ipjajang traditions.
Today, we see the Gat not just on the protagonists of global streaming hits, but on the heads of ordinary Koreans walking through ancient palaces on holidays. It remains an indelible mark of our history and culture, an icon that I believe will continue to be etched into the collective memory of the world.