Seoul’s Skincare Scene Drives Global Beauty Trends

It’s almost impossible to imagine that barely 30 years ago, Seoul, South Korea’s beauty industry revolved around small herbal shops and local aestheticians. Today, the city not only serves as the nucleus of the K-Beauty phenomenon, but it has also become a global powerhouse in shaping how the rest of the world thinks about skincare.

Growing up in Seoul, Dr. Zion Ko Lamm, a board-certified internal medicine physician now based in Charlotte, N.C., observed that beauty was rooted in something far deeper than appearance. “In Korea,” says Lamm, a popular “skinfluencer” with nearly two million followers on Instagram and TikTok, “skincare has always been a way of showing respect for yourself—almost like a daily ritual.”

That philosophy, grounded in cultural values and amplified by biotech-driven skincare, influencer-led routines and a forward-thinking mentality, has fuelled K-Beauty’s unstoppable rise. “Seoul has become an epicentre because it combines deep cultural roots with a culture that is willing to reinvent itself quickly,” Lamm says.

But the city wasn’t always the beauty powerhouse it is today. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, South Korea’s beauty industry was still emerging, with roots in small herbal shops and local aestheticians. A growing middle class sought products that signified modernity, and as a former Japanese colony until the end of World War II, Korea’s evolving ideals of beauty were inevitably shaped by Japan’s influence.

“There was a lot of resentment and a kind of rejection of Japanese culture at first,” says Michelle Cho, director of the Centre for the Study of Korea at the University of Toronto. But, over time, trade fostered a relationship between the countries built on shared knowledge, technology and insights. By the 1980s and ’90s, Japanese brands such as Shiseido, which focused on skincare over cosmetics, resonated strongly in South Korea. Rather than focusing on covering imperfections, Korean beauty culture began emphasizing prevention, nourishment and skin health—the very principles that would later define K-Beauty’s global identity.

There has long been a strong desire in South Korea to preserve the “natural” essence of its cultural approach to beauty. Yet the evolution of cosmetic ingredients from traditional herbal and folk remedies to technology-driven formulations has been a dramatic shift in how domestic consumers engage with skincare. “You’re not just listening to your grandma putting the water she rinsed from the rice on her face and hair,” explains Cho. “Companies like Amorepacific are using that in their R&D, and marketing.” She cites the brand’s work on isolating and enhancing the delivery of green tea’s antioxidant properties as a prime example of this blend between tradition and innovation.

In the late 1990s and mid-2000s, South Korea also saw a cosmetic surgery boom. As the economy embraced neo-liberal reforms and job competition intensified, the pursuit of self-optimization took hold. According to Cho, this shift reframed plastic surgery from an act of vanity into a form of self-investment—on par with exercise and education—to improve one’s prospects in a society where appearance often influenced social and professional outcomes.

By the early 2000s, Seoul’s beauty reincarnation started to take hold amid the rise of Hallyu or The Korean Wave. “It’s a term used to describe the export of mostly Korean TV dramas and K-pop music,” explains Cho.

The Korean Wave initially swept through China and Japan before spreading through Southeast Asia, inspiring international visitors to seek skincare treatments in Seoul. This celebrity-driven culture made those markets highly receptive, says Cho, and cosmetic surgery clinics seized the moment with a simple marketing strategy: “Bring a photo of your favourite celebrity, and we’ll help you get the procedures to look like them.”

In Seoul, skincare and surgery were two sides of the same coin. Treatments such as lasers and injections had long been listed on clinic menus, and by the 2010s, South Korea’s reputation for superior non-surgical anti-aging technologies began attracting a new wave of medical tourists. The trend had shifted: many visitors no longer wanted to return home looking like a different person, but they did want to come back with luminous, poreless and translucent “glass skin,” a hallmark of K-Beauty, explains Cho.

By 2014, K-Beauty was still considered a niche market outside of Asia. But the late 2010s would mark a turning point. The global rise of K-pop, driven by bands such as BTS (who are credited with popularizing K-pop through their music and social media presence), helped set the stage. Then, during COVID-19, Netflix’s investment in Korean dramas brought K-Beauty into homes everywhere.

Soon after, increasing numbers of non-Asian visitors from Europe and North America began travelling to Korea for skincare treatments of every kind. What made K-Beauty so appealing to Western consumers was not only that products were more affordable than department store brands, but they also didn’t overpromise. Instead, they were transparent about their ingredients and emphasized that results were achieved through the consistency of a routine.

Today, the spirit of reinvention is at the heart of the K-Beauty machine. “It’s all about innovation and speed. Brands release new products and they experiment all the time. It’s less about legacy and more about results,” says Kelly Wilberger, research manager at Classys, a South Korean company specializing in medical aesthetics and skincare devices, including Everesse. For instance, K-Beauty brands refresh their product lines every three to six months—almost twice as fast as the biannual or annual launches typical in the West, notes Namit Goel, partner and co-founder of Ken Research, a consulting firm that tracks South Korea’s beauty markets.

“That’s why the industry feels so alive. It’s creative and fast-moving,” explains Wilberger. The numbers back it up. South Korea’s beauty market is projected to reach US $17 billion in 2025, with global exports exceeding US $10 billion. Skincare accounts for approximately 66 per cent of sales. On the services side, the country’s aesthetic industry—both surgical and non-surgical—is estimated to generate US $3.3 billion during the same period. “Forecasts show substantially faster growth for non-surgical procedures,” adds Goel.

The K-Beauty industry accelerates innovation by engaging consumers through “test and scale,” where companies create small batches of products, get real-time feedback and then quickly reformulate. “Many brands start testing among Korean consumers first because they are typically trend-sensitive and highly involved in skincare,” says Goel. Once refined, products are introduced through micro-launches in international markets such as the United States, Japan and Southeast Asia. “This allows brands to refine formulas before a full rollout.”

This rapid cycle keeps K-Beauty perpetually ahead of the pack. “A serum that debuts in Seoul today might be trending in Los Angeles six months later,” notes Lamm. “Concepts tested in Korea—like barrier-supportive skincare or regenerative ingredients—often become the blueprint for what eventually becomes popular in the West.”

Lamm describes Seoul as a “living laboratory,” where dermatologists, physicians and biotech firms collaborate. Social pressure also plays its part. “In Korea, there’s this expectation to look put together,” says Wilberger. Combined with a collective openness to share routines and results, this creates what Lamm calls a “feedback loop, where customers push for better products, and brands respond right away, keeping the whole ecosystem alive and evolving.”

That same feedback-driven ethos is now gaining traction in the West, where, historically, beauty trends have moved more slowly. “But, in recent years, consumers have started driving the conversation, demanding transparency, sharing their routines and expecting fast results,” says Lamm. Social media has accelerated that shift, she adds, “though it’s still not quite at the scale or intensity you see in Seoul.”

Influencers are another vital force powering K-Beauty’s momentum, explains Goel. Rather than relying on celebrity endorsements, brands increasingly collaborate with micro-influencers—those with 1,000 to 100,000 followers—who deliver authentic tutorials and product reviews. Many Korean creators now produce localized content in English, Thai, Bahasa and Mandarin, driving growth across Southeast Asia. “Influencer-led storytelling—through K-pop culture, K-dramas, K-fashion—has replaced traditional advertising,” Goel explains. “Social commerce has a huge role to play.”

That innovation is backed by serious investment. While U.S. and European beauty companies typically allocate five to six per cent of revenue to research and development, Korean brands invest between seven and 10 per cent. “They also rely heavily on biotechnology, natural extracts and fermentation science,” Goel adds, which sets them apart.

Government support has further strengthened the sector. “Beauty has become one of Korea’s strongest exports, and the government treats it that way,” says Wilberger. It funds research, start-ups and trade shows, while promoting Seoul as a global beauty hub. The government also provides clear regulatory pathways for innovation, allowing both start-ups and established companies to launch products faster and market them globally as part of the broader K-Beauty identity, says Lamm.

It’s a system built on interconnection. “You have researchers, tech companies, clinics and influencers all feeding into the same system,” says Wilberger. The city’s geography amplifies this dynamic. “A quarter of the population lives in this one small area,” says Cho. “It centralizes creative production; this big community can make things happen quickly.”

Despite all the innovation in skincare, Koreans are looking for more from K-Beauty, and even glass skin is no longer good enough. Mirror skin will soon be the new trend to chase, promising an even more intensely reflective glow. The constant development of novel, high-performing ingredients just might make this possible. Cho points to PDRN (polydeoxyribonucleotide) injections as a breakthrough to watch. Derived from salmon DNA, this biomaterial helps repair and rejuvenate skin cells. When combined with laser treatments, PDRN can improve skin texture, collagen production and healing speed.

Erica Fung, managing director of Toronto-based medical spa 30 Hazelton, introduced PDRN at the newly launched clinic so her clients can achieve that coveted glass skin without having to travel abroad. “The technology and innovations coming out of Korea are precise, effective and designed to enhance skin quality, rather than just treat the surface; that’s what makes it stand out globally,” says Fung. Having spent time in South Korea, Fung experienced K-Beauty first-hand. “I had the chance to try so many advanced treatments and see how innovation and self-care go hand in hand.”

Fung also introduced two other Korean technologies at the clinic, including the radio-frequency treatment Everesse RF, which helps plump and lift the skin by stimulating collagen, and the Ultraformer MPT. “It’s a next-generation HIFU device that lifts, firms and contours,” she says. “What’s incredible about these devices is that you get instant results without any pain or downtime, which is such a game-changer compared to traditional treatments.”

Although it’s not formally labelled as such, “the ‘K’ prefix on everything signals the start of another Korean Wave,” says Cho. The accessibility of these products shows that K-Beauty is no longer seen as exotic. Major retailers such as Sephora have expanded their Korean skincare offerings, and many brands are now readily available on Amazon and other Western platforms.

For Western consumers, the question is no longer ‘Why try a Korean product,’” Cho observes. “It’s ‘Why not?’” With K-beauty’s reach and reputation continuing to expand, she adds, “it’s becoming the new standard for worldwide beauty.”