Clothing in any society is more than just fabric: it is a system of symbols. In Joseon Korea (1392–1897), traditional dress known today as hanbok was never simply a matter of style or personal taste. Rather, it was a visual code that reinforced the Neo-Confucian order of Joseon society, one of the most rigidly hierarchical systems in early modern East Asia. The dynasty, founded by Yi Seong-gye, endured for five centuries, during which Korea experienced both cultural flourishing and severe external pressures, such as invasions from Japan and the Manchu. Neo-Confucianism became the state ideology, with its emphasis on harmony through hierarchy, ritual, and moral conduct. Joseon society was structured into four strata: the yangban (“aristocracy”), the jungin (“middle class”) of technical specialists, the sangmin (“commoners”) and the cheonmin (“low people”) including slaves, butchers, and entertainers (Choi, Park, and Kim, 2016).
Within this system, hanbok served as a visible manifestation of rank, gender and moral expectation. Colours, fabrics and cuts were regulated by custom and law; designs marked marital status as well as class. hanbok was not just clothing but a deliberate mechanism of social regulation, reinforcing both hierarchy and Confucian gender roles. At the same time, the persistence of the white hanbok demonstrates how ordinary Koreans could use clothing to cultivate their own sense of identity, even in the face of elite regulation.
Hanbok and Class Hierarchy
Joseon’s ruling elite used clothing to visually enforce distinctions between classes. The clearest example was the jeogori, the jacket-like upper garment. One elaborate type, the samhoejang jeogori, with colourful collars and cuffs, could only be worn by upper-class yangban women (Korea Essentials, p.18). By contrast, commoners were restricted to the plainer banhoejang jeogori, lacking the contrasting colour inserts at the armpits. Even within the garment’s anatomy—the git (“collar band”), goreum (“ribbon ties”) and cuffs—colour variation was a privilege of the upper orders.
Similarly, skirts (chima) for aristocratic women were fuller and longer, with more pleats and expensive silks. Yangban women could wear a geodeul-chima up to 30 centimetres longer than the standard, signalling elegance and authority (Korea Essentials, p.26). Commoners, however, were legally prohibited from wearing skirts wider than 10 to 12 pokand had to overlap them in the opposite direction to noblewomen—an almost ritualised inversion of elite custom. These rules ensured that differences were visible at a glance, turning clothing into an explicit demonstration of class boundaries.
For men, insignia carried similar meaning. Dragons embroidered on robes were reserved exclusively for kings and crown princes, with five toes for the monarch and four for the heir (Kim 2022, V&A Museum). Even braided cords (dahoe) used in royal caps or girdles were restricted to monarchs and crown princes, and their materials shifted over the dynasty as part of highly regulated ritual dress (Choi, Park, and Kim, 2016). In every case, clothing operated as a legal and cultural boundary-marker, reminding wearers and observers of their place within the Confucian hierarchy. Yet, class distinction was not absolute. Tension arose with the widespread practice of wearing white. Across Joseon society, white hanbok was deeply embedded in agrarian and ritual traditions, despite repeated attempts at prohibition (Lee, 2022). The simplicity of white clothing blurred elite distinctions, producing what observers later called a society of “the ‘white-clad’ people”. Thus, while elite clothing displayed status through colour and embroidery, the everyday sea of white hanbok created a competing egalitarian aesthetic.
Gender and Marital Status
Confucian morality placed women within a strict framework of chastity, obedience and modesty. Clothing reinforced these ideals through carefully coded colours and silhouettes. Young, unmarried women typically wore yellow jeogori with crimson chima, signalling fertility and readiness for marriage. New brides might dress in green jackets with red skirts, while married women shifted to darker blue combinations to symbolise maturity and restraint (Korea Essentials, p.21). Clothing thus created a visible public record of a woman’s marital and sexual status.
Gender distinctions were reinforced by garment form. Men wore baji (“trousers”) while women wore chima (“skirts”), a clear binary that grew more pronounced in Joseon than in earlier Korean dynasties (Kim 2022, V&A Museum). By the 15th century, elite women wore wraparound pleated skirts and longer jeogori, but over time the jackets shortened drastically, exposing more of the voluminous skirt beneath. Status was marked not only by fabric—silks versus cotton—but also by pleat number and skirt length. Aristocratic women’s clothing were heavier and more layered, while commoner women’s were lighter and practical for agricultural labour.
At court, gendered regulations were even more explicit. Royal attire included carefully prescribed ornaments such as dahoe (“cords”), mangsu (“sashes”) and cap decorations, reserved for kings, princes and their consorts (Choi, Park, and Kim, 2016). Women in the royal family were similarly distinguished by layers of embroidered silks and veils, with restrictions ensuring that rank and marital status were unmistakable.
Yet, clothing also gave women space for expression. The rich colours of aristocratic women’s attire and the elaborate embroidery of jeogori for ceremonies allowed limited displays of identity. And again, the prevalence of white hanbok among women across classes signalled modesty but also forged solidarity. Even when laws sought to limit colour choice, the maintenance of spotless white garments became a source of pride and cultural identity (Lee, 2022).
Law and Regulation
These distinctions were not merely customary but enforced through sumptuary laws. Joseon law prohibited commoners from wearing silk or using certain embroidered designs, reserving them for the yangban. Pleat numbers, skirt lengths, and even the direction of overlap were legally mandated (Korea Essentials, p.26). By law, only elites could use particular dyes—red, purple and blue—while commoners were restricted largely to undyed white or pale colours. These legal constraints echoed Confucian ideals of harmony through differentiation. Just as ritual prescribed roles for father and son, ruler and subject, so did clothing laws ensure that individuals “kept their place”. By regulating garments, the state inscribed ideology onto the body itself.
However, enforcement was uneven. Records show repeated attempts to ban the wearing of white, with over 25 regulations issued between Goryeo and Joseon periods (Lee, 2022). The fact that such bans had to be reissued suggests that ordinary Koreans resisted by continuing to favour white. This illustrates the tension between state control and popular practice: clothing could be a tool of conformity, but also a site of cultural persistence.
Conclusion
In Joseon Korea, hanbok was a social code as much as a garment. Its colours, fabrics, and cuts were carefully regulated to distinguish class and gender, reinforcing the Neo-Confucian order that structured society. Aristocrats wore elaborate silks and pleated skirts, commoners plain cotton, and women signalled marital status through jacket and skirt combinations. Legal prohibitions and court regulations codified these distinctions, embedding hierarchy into daily life. At the same time, the white hanbok illustrates the limitations of such control. Worn across classes despite repeated bans, it symbolised both modesty and collective identity, softening the sharp edges of class distinction. Clothing thus became a site of both regulation and resistance. In this sense, the hanbok of Joseon Korea was never just clothing. It was a mirror of the state’s ideology, a canvas on which social distinctions were displayed and contested, and a living fabric of hierarchy, gender, and identity.
–
Bibliography
Choi, J. (2016) ‘The Consideration and Historical Research of Joseon Ladies’ Attire in the 15th Century by Analyzing Excavated Costumes and Presents for Lady Han, Gongsin-buin’, Journal of the Korean Society of Costume, 66(7), pp. 171–191. Available at: https://www.koreascience.or.kr/article/JAKO201607365698756.pdf (Accessed: 17 September 2025).
Choi, Y., Park, Y.M. and Kim, M.Y. (2016) ‘A Study on Dahoe (多繪) and Mangsu (網綬) Used in Royal Formal Dresses in the Joseon Dynasty’ , Journal of the Korean Society of Costume, 66(5), pp. 133–148. Available at: https://www.koreascience.or.kr/article/JAKO201626360541253.pdf (Accessed: 17 September 2025).
JinGoo, K. (1977) Korean Costume: An Historical Analysis. PhD dissertation. University of Wisconsin–Madison. Available at: https://www.proquest.com/openview/9f3d2c65258139213a2d8e4deecca19f/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=18750&diss=y (Accessed: 17 September 2025).
Kim, J. (2022) Hanbok – traditional Korean dress. London: Victoria and Albert Museum. Available at: https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/hanbok-traditional-korean-dress?srsltid=AfmBOoovfYJnyBBE9NpOZ9CGQLpuu8cVjlhEB0dpDsMwUHpS8mdjcZpA (Accessed: 6 September 2025).
Korea Essentials (2010) Hanbok: Timeless Fashion Tradition (Korea Essentials Book 16). Seoul: Seoul Selection. Available at:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BEPBd8Pitd0f1V4Pr6Vc-EqbGlQLY1tv/view?usp=share_ (Accessed: 17 September 2025).
Lee, Y. (2022) ‘The white-clad people: The white hanbok and Korean nationalism’ , Cultural Dynamics, 34(4), pp. 271–296. doi: 10.1177/09213740221117811. ‘Hanbok and Korean Identity: An Anthropological View’ (2020) in Dress History of Korea: Critical Perspectives on Primary Sources. pp. 300–314. Available at: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QgKsGpqTmp_HvflEvPLqFsxeqGZ9qsMQ/view?usp=share_ (Accessed: 17 September 2025).