Reliving 'retro': Making an analog escape from a hyperdigital world

Groceries suggested by an algorithm and ordered over an app arrive at doorsteps within half an hour, dinner orders are made through restaurant tablets without a word spoken and some of those menus were even made with the assistance of AI — minimal human input required.

Yet many young people are deliberately seeking out the opposite experience.

Old restaurants where wallpaper has yellowed with age and where servers still jot down orders by hand have become popular destinations among people in their 20s and 30s. They travel miles to wander through aging shops and search for electronics from the 1970s to early 2000s that produce blurry, grainy textures modern devices are designed to remove.

While nostalgia may partly explain the appeal for those who have lived through those eras, for those who haven't, "retro" offers the younger generation a particular novelty. For them, the attraction lies in the imperfections, inconvenience and human touch missing from today's hyperdigital, polished world.

Seeking imperfection

Chae Seung-jin is one of those deliberately seeking out “frozen-time” spaces that preserve the texture of the late 1990s and early 2000s.

“I follow retro enthusiasts and read their blogs, or search keywords like 'time-stopped' or 'apocalypse' to find those [retro] places,” the 32-year-old told the Korea JoongAng Daily. “Sometimes I simply browse roadview maps, and if a signboard looks old, I just go there.”

Now in his fifth year of the hobby, Chae visits vintage places two or three times a week. He recently explored aging stores lined along the alleys of Euljiro, central Seoul.

While nostalgia is part of the attraction, Chae said visiting timeworn places brings him “a sense of calm and helps relieve stress.”

Recognizing that many others shared his fascination, Chae began organizing small group outings about three years ago, gathering six to eight people at a time to venture into aging neighborhoods and buildings together. So far, he has hosted around 200 such gatherings.

“Some participants are really fascinated by these spaces,” he said. “They wonder why those signs still exist or how buildings could have been designed like that. Some also first come out of curiosity.”

Since last May, Chae has also been documenting retro spaces on Instagram. Many of his videos surpass 500,000 views. One video featuring Techno Mart, an electronics shop-turned-retro haven, selling everything from vintage gadgets to nostalgic snacks, in Gwangjin District, eastern Seoul, drew more than 1.1 million views and over 37,000 likes, helping transform the aging shopping complex into a magnet for younger visitors chasing Y2K aesthetics.

“Many young people have been flooding into my shop since early April,” said Jung Choon-deuk, who has run a dessert shop at the mart for more than 20 years. The store has gone viral for nostalgic desserts such as “snowflake bingsu,” shaved iced milk served in snowflake-like layers, along with its old-fashioned signboard.

“Many customers are in their 20s, especially groups of young women. They order the snowflake bingsu and take lots of photos.”

At busy times, more than 120 teams visit even on weekdays, she said. Some customers have traveled all the way from Busan and Gangwon just to try the dessert and photograph.

The entire building has become part of the experience, with old painted elevators, crisscrossing escalators and faded tiles carrying the atmosphere of late 1990s to early 2000s. During a recent visit, young people were seen taking photos of the interiors themselves.

On social media, photos of time-stopped places flood feeds, with many young people photographing vintage details while posing inside the spaces and editing the images with low-resolution effects reminiscent of early digital cameras.

One tteokbokki (spicy rice cakes) restaurant in Eunpyeong District features old school chairs with thin seat cushions and dotted tile patterns rarely seen in today’s polished modern eateries. Meanwhile, numerous dabangs, or old-style Korean coffee shops, are drawing young crowds for their worn sofas, patterned cushions, oversize wall clocks and mismatched posters and plants.

Old devices, new fascination

The fascination with retro extends beyond spaces and into objects themselves.

Sewoon Plaza, an electronics complex built in 1968 in Jongno District, central Seoul, has in recent years experienced renewed popularity among young visitors searching for old digital cameras.

“In the past three years, there have been many customers in their 20s coming here for digital cameras,” said Lee Gyu-tae, who has operated a camera shop there for four decades.

Many shoppers specifically seek cameras capable of producing low-resolution images with visible grain and soft colors, he said.

“I came looking for a camera with that hazy effect,” said a woman in her 20s surnamed Kim, who visited with her friend. Kim became interested in digital cameras after recently finding one at home that her parents once used. “I just like the low-quality images old digital cameras produce.”

With the renewed interest among younger consumers, new stores specializing in Y2K-style digital cameras have opened beside long-running electronics shops.

Park Tae-sung opened a camera store inside the plaza last year, and the shop has since become popular among female customers for its girlie aesthetic.

“Most customers are women in their 20s or university students,” he said. “The store becomes packed during school breaks.”

Kim Han-min, who opened his own camera shop earlier this year after years of selling cameras online, said demand has sharply driven up prices as well.

“A camera that cost around 100,000 won ($66) a few years ago can now sell for around 300,000 won,” he said. “Digital cameras from the late 2000s to early 2010s are the most popular.”

Kim said many customers mention the “emotional feel,” the cuteness and the distinct grain and color tones older cameras create compared to modern devices.

Near the plaza, old Korean songs drift through streets from stores selling old LPs, videotapes and CDs, which are also making a comeback. During a recent visit to a record shop in the vicinity, many young people were browsing through stacks of albums and tapes, some casually looking around while others searched carefully for specific artists.

Lim Jeong-jin, who has worked at the store for about a year, said many visitors in their 20s and 30s look for albums by older Korean musicians such as Yoo Jae-ha and Kim Kwang-seok.

“I think part of the appeal is that things that no longer fit today's trends have become rare,” she said.

Twenty-two-year-old Kang Min-seok also visited the shop searching for CDs of old artists like Sanulrim, the legendary rock band that debuted in 1977.

Although born in 2002 and only occasionally exposed to CDs growing up, Kang said he has been collecting them since high school. “I just like the old music styles,” he said. “Old songs feel richer in sound.”

The retro craze is also highly visible online. According to data provided by online secondhand market Karrot, from March to May this year, searches for digital cameras on the marketplace surged 221 percent. Searches for MP3 players jumped 276 percent, while searches for CD players rose 130 percent and videotape searches climbed 64 percent. According to the Camera & Imaging Products Association of Japan, digital camera shipments in 2024 rebounded to 1.01 million units, marking the first increase in seven years.

At a vintage shop selling nostalgic stationary in Dongmyo in central Seoul, shoppers packed the aisles during a recent Saturday afternoon, with a line formed outside the entrance. Many among them were families with young children, who wandered the store asking their parents about objects they had never seen before.

“What's this?” one child asked, pointing to a hand-cranked pencil sharpener, and her father explained that it was the kind he used when growing up.

Why retro now?

Experts say the phenomenon goes beyond simple nostalgia.

Younger generations raised mainly within digital environments are discovering analog as something emotionally fresh, said Lee Hong-joo, a professor in the Department of Consumer Economics at Sookmyung Women's University.

“Younger generations today grew up in highly digital environments and never really experienced analog culture firsthand,” Lee said. “Because of that, analog experiences can become opportunities for the MZ generation to seek out new values and differentiation.” MZ generation is a Korean term referring to millennials and Generation Z that includes people born anytime from the 1980s to the 2010s.

Ironically, the inconvenience of older technology is also part of the attraction.

“Digital devices today are extremely convenient, but experiences have also become standardized,” Lee said. “Old digital cameras, videotapes and cassette tapes are less convenient than modern devices. But that inconvenience itself can become a special experience for younger people. There are also fun in unexpected results.”

Lee Eun-hee, a professor of consumer studies at Inha University, added that the retro boom may reflect exhaustion with an increasingly optimized and hyper-digital world.

“Various electronics such as smartphones are now so perfect, and the world changes so quickly and feels increasingly complicated,” she said. “As a result, people begin wanting more analog sensations.”

Lee Hong-joo said social media has further accelerated the trend, turning retro spaces and analog devices into a form of identity-driven cultural content.

“People show these things off on social media and use them to express their tastes and individuality. Retro spaces and analog devices are becoming a form of taste-driven consumption.”

Choi Ji-hye, a research fellow at the Consumer Trend Analysis Center and co-author of the 2026 edition of “Trend Korea,” a book series published annually that contains yearly prospects on the economy, society and culture, believes the latest retro wave is also tied to the rise of artificial intelligence.

“As a kind of countertrend or reaction against AI and digital culture, people seem to be showing a stronger preference for these kinds of things,” Choi said. “Not just old objects, but these days, some people even prefer advertisements that do not use AI.”

According to Choi, people are seeking a sense of human warmth that AI cannot provide.

“People feel that human warmth and humanism are gradually disappearing,” she said. “Younger generations, especially those at the forefront of AI and digital culture, seem to feel it even more strongly.”

BY WOO JI-WON [[email protected]]