The Trap of Simplification
To the untrained eye, a logo or graphic created in minutes may look deceptively simple. “I could do that,” people say. But those minutes rest on years of experience, countless discarded drafts, and nights of relentless effort. None of that is visible in the final outcome—at least, not to those looking in from the outside.
It is human nature to simplify what we do not experience ourselves. The unseen complexities fade away, leaving only the finished result. The problem is that this simplification erases the labor, skill, and pride of the expert. In a single offhand remark— “That doesn’t look so hard”—the depth of someone’s professionalism disappears.
The Missing Piece in K-Culture
K-Pop, K-Drama, K-Food… today, Korea is experiencing a cultural golden age, celebrated on the global stage. Yet one question lingers: why does K-Fashion remain so modest in comparison?
Occasionally, promotional efforts try to ride the K-wave. But when asked to name a globally recognized Korean fashion brand, most people struggle to come up with one. Samsung Galaxy? Gentle Monster? Both are iconic in their own right, but they are not fashion houses in the traditional sense.
Having watched the international fashion industry since the 1980s, I cannot help but notice the contrast. Neighboring Japan has long held its place in the global fashion arena, maintaining a steady influence with designers and brands that remain household names.
Searching for the Formula of Success
Why has no Korean fashion brand reached that level of global recognition? This question has followed me throughout my career, not only because I work in the industry but because I sincerely wish to see a Korean brand rise to worldwide prominence.
Derercuny: An Ambitious Attempt
In 2003, Samsung C&T (then Cheil Industries) established a subsidiary in Milan to launch a global fashion business. They recruited designer Jungmin Lee and introduced a womenswear brand, Derercuny, in September 2004 on the Milan runway. With luxurious materials and refined designs, the collection caught the attention of European fashion media.
At the time, I was living in Italy. I applauded this bold initiative by Samsung—a major Korean corporation investing heavily in creating a Korean fashion brand. I watched closely, genuinely hoping for its success.
Samsung continued investing in Derercuny for nearly eight years, aiming to reach profitability by 2012. Later, I learned that they had committed an astounding 22 million USD to this venture. They understood well that luxury markets require substantial initial investment and years of brand building. Yet despite this awareness and commitment, sustainable profitability remained elusive.
What Went Wrong?
What exactly went wrong? While the precise causes remain unclear, my analysis points to several factors: the challenge of establishing a distinctive identity among entrenched luxury competitors, cultural gaps with local consumers, and perhaps most critically, the timing. At that point, K-Culture had not yet matured globally. The product lacked the resonance and cultural empathy that global fashion brands require to thrive.
Fashion brands demand not only a designer’s vision and sensibility but something more fundamental: they must earn empathy from a broad audience. Korea at that time was heavily focused on designer-centric brands—”the designer is the brand” mentality dominated. But I have always believed that fashion is, at its core, a business of empathy. It must resonate with people on a visceral level.
Without a global celebrity designer commanding a devoted following, a Korean brand needs to build empathy through every element—from the brand name to the products to the marketing. This, I believe, is the essential path forward.
If We Tried Again Today
What if we took the lessons from Samsung’s experience and tried again? What if we found a designer with a different worldview, invested in building a brand that could make its mark on the global stage—would the outcome be different?
I am convinced it would. Today, with K-Culture’s global influence at its peak, a well-conceived Korean fashion brand could definitively establish itself in the international market. The timing, the cultural momentum, the global appetite for Korean creativity—all the conditions are now aligned.
So how did Italy and France create so many world-class brands? What is their secret? This question led me to study the success stories of legendary fashion houses.
This image was inspired by the essay “Between the Expert and the Non-expert.” The blue façade represents the distance a Korean brand feels standing before the global stage, while the red hues within symbolize passion and creative energy. Through the transparent arches, the space blurs the line between craft and commerce, local identity and global ambition. It is not merely a storefront — it is the threshold where Korean fashion begins to etch its name into the world.
LVMH and the Philosophy of Respect
Bernard Arnault, CEO of LVMH, has often said: “Our business is built on giving artists and designers unlimited freedom.” Within the group, each brand is run with artistic autonomy, granting creative directors the authority to shape both identity and innovation.
Arnault has made clear that if management constantly monitors designers over their shoulders, exceptional creativity will never emerge. Creative leaders must be given space to realize their own ideas. He believes that trust and autonomy—not surveillance—unlock a designer’s creative energy.
Even when collections sparked controversy—such as John Galliano’s infamous newspaper dress at Dior—Arnault did not intervene. He believed that without risk, there could be no breakthrough. This philosophy of respecting expertise, even in its most chaotic form, allowed designers to transcend boundaries and redefine luxury.
Prada and the Power of Division
The story of Prada is equally revealing. When Miuccia Prada inherited the family business in 1978, she partnered with Patrizio Bertelli, a businessman with a keen eye for management. Bertelli famously told her: “Focus only on design. Leave the business to me.”
This clear division of roles allowed Miuccia to pour her energy into creativity. In the early 1980s, she introduced nylon (Pocono)—an industrial fabric—into luxury fashion, defying the convention that leather defined status. At first, the market scoffed. But she persisted, and over time, nylon became Prada’s iconic symbol of practical luxury.
Behind this success was Miuccia’s stubbornness as a designer—and Bertelli’s unwavering support of her vision.
The Shared Secret of Successful Brands
From LVMH to Prada, the pattern is unmistakable. Success arises when boundaries are clear and mutual respect is absolute. Designers are entrusted with creativity. Executives are entrusted with business. Neither diminishes the other’s expertise.
But this is not merely about dividing tasks. The deeper truth lies in a culture of mutual respect for expertise. Designers receive autonomy as creators. Management finds optimal ways to bring those creations to the world. Neither side encroaches on or diminishes the other’s domain.
Arnault stood behind Galliano’s chaos. Bertelli believed in Miuccia’s nylon experiment. In both cases, the partnership created space for risk—and with it, the possibility of transformation.
Innovation does not emerge from safe territory. It may invite failure or market skepticism. But only by embracing such risks can true creativity flourish. And when there is a partner willing to share that risk, creators can finally surpass their own limitations.
The Korean Reality: An Ironic Gap
So why has Korea, despite leading the world in music, drama, and cuisine, not produced a global fashion brand? The answer lies, I believe, in our perception of expertise.
K-Pop dominates the Billboard charts. K-Drama conquers Netflix rankings. K-Food transforms dining tables worldwide. Yet in fashion, we remain invisible.
I believe the answer lies in how we perceive expertise. K-Pop and K-Drama have established systems that respect creators’ autonomy and professionalism. But in fashion, too often voices say: “This will sell better,” or “The market wants this.” These pressures blur the boundary between creativity and commerce, weighing down the designer before their vision can fully unfold.
When we fail to respect expertise—whether artistic or managerial—we stifle growth. But when we honor both, we create the conditions for world-class brands to emerge.
Respecting Boundaries, Creating Trust
The secret to enduring success is surprisingly simple: clear boundaries and mutual respect.
Respect for creativity. Respect for management. And the trust that binds them together.
This is the formula behind every brand the world admires. When creators are trusted to take risks, and when business partners support those risks without interference, transformation becomes possible.
This is how global icons are born.
Lightly, yet deeply. And always, with respect for one another’s boundaries.
