A very new trend in Korean social media is something called “quiet flexing.” Instead of showing off luxury brands or expensive experiences, people subtly display quality through minimal photos, neutral colors, and everyday moments. A simple coffee cup, a clean desk, or a calm street scene can quietly signal taste, lifestyle, and identity. This trend reflects growing fatigue with flashy influencer culture and a shift toward understated aesthetics. Many young Koreans say quiet flexing feels more authentic and less exhausting than traditional bragging.
Korea’s convenience stores are quietly turning into midnight restaurants. What used to be a place for snacks and drinks now offers warm hot bars, freshly heated meals, ramen stations, and café-style seating. Young people stop by after work, late study sessions, or nights out to grab affordable, satisfying food without entering a full restaurant. Convenience stores compete by releasing limited-edition meals, regional flavors, and upgraded ready-to-eat dishes that look closer to casual dining than packaged snacks.
Self photo booths in Korea have transformed from simple picture machines into full experience spaces. What used to be a quick four-photo strip is now a mini studio with themed rooms, colorful lighting, costumes, and playful props. Young people visit self photo studios as part of a date course or a casual hangout with friends. Many booths rotate seasonal concepts such as retro, Y2K, school uniform, or cartoon styles.
The appeal is not about perfect photos, but about capturing silly, imperfect, and fun moments together. In a digital-heavy world, these tiny studios offer a physical way to create memories instantly.
Photo booths
A common weekend plan is stopping by an 4-cut photo booth after dinner, choosing a theme like “retro classroom,” borrowing props, taking multiple rounds of photos, and immediately sharing the printed strips and digital files on social media.
Another reason these photo booths remain popular is their role as emotional documentation. Many young Koreans treat printed photo strips like small diaries, storing them in phone cases, journals, or wall collages. Some even revisit the same booth every year with the same friends to recreate similar poses and compare how they have changed. In this way, self photo booths are not just about looking cute — they quietly track friendships, growth, and phases of life, one four-frame strip at a time.
In Korea, girls night isn’t just dinner and drinks — it’s become its own cultural moment blending friendship, food, dancing, and late-night café hops. While Seoul’s nightlife districts like Hongdae and Itaewon buzz with bars and clubs, many young women now start evenings with pre-night meetups (similar to a pregame) at cozy cafés or casual pocha (outdoor food stalls) before hitting dance floors or themed lounges.
In South Korea, bus driving — once seen as a tough, low-status job — is now attracting young workers as well as generating wider social discussion. Recent data shows the number of people in their 20s and 30s getting bus driver licenses jumped sharply (about 43% in three years) due to relatively good pay, job security, and stable hours in the semipublic bus system.
Among Korean teens and twenty-somethings, a quiet but powerful trend is growing: the love for harmless content and ordinary happiness. Instead of loud, shocking, or competitive posts, young people are gravitating toward gentle videos of puppies, simple drawings, small desserts, cozy rooms, miniatures, reading, and slow daily routines. Another popular idea is enjoying “a very ordinary day” — finding joy in coffee, walking home, or watching the sunset.
In South Korea, the hyper-local app KarrotMarketplace (당근마켓) isn’t just for selling used items anymore — it’s quietly becoming a social experiment. The app connects neighbors who live nearby, encouraging face-to-face meetups for simple trades. But lately, something funny has been happening after these exchanges.
A growing trend on Karrot and social media shows neighbors casually suggesting, “Want to grab fries?” after completing a deal. Not coffee. Not a full meal. Just french fries. It’s low-pressure, inexpensive, and universally loved. A sofa pickup turns into a five-minute fry break. A book sale becomes a sidewalk snack date. Fries have somehow become the unofficial friendship starter of Korean neighborhoods.
