Hanbok — A World Apart, for a Moment

What struck me in Seoul was not the hanbok itself, but the complete surrender with which it was worn. Near the old palace gates, the dresses are rented by the hour — and those who put one on, Korean or foreign, are not dressing up. They step into something. Posture shifts, the pace slows, and in the middle of one of the world's busiest cities, a quiet space opens up.

This series follows that crossing — the moment when a costume is no longer a costume, and the wearer is, however briefly, somewhere else entirely.