Ask Onix
South Korea's 'Young 40s' mocked for embracing Gen Z styles
Ji Seung-ryeol, 41, never expected his fashion sense to become a viral joke. Once celebrated for his style, he now finds himself at the center of online ridicule as part of South Korea's so-called 'Young 40s'-middle-aged men adopting trends associated with younger generations.
The rise of the 'Young 40s' meme
AI-generated caricatures depict men in their 40s dressed in streetwear, clutching iPhones, and have spread rapidly across social media. The term 'Young 40s' has evolved from a marketing label for health-conscious, tech-savvy consumers into a sarcastic jab at those accused of 'trying too hard' to appear youthful.
Jeong Ju-eun, a member of Gen Z, describes the phenomenon as men who 'refuse to accept that time has passed.' The shift in perception followed the release of the iPhone 17 last September, which became a symbol of the trend after Apple's market share among 40-somethings surged by 12% over the past year, while Gen Z's preference for iPhones declined by 4%.
From pioneers to punchlines
In the 1990s, South Koreans in their 40s were seen as tastemakers. Today, they face mockery for wearing brands like Nike Air Jordans and Stüssy, once staples of youth culture. Ji, who has long favored these styles, questions the backlash: 'I'm just wearing things I've liked for years, now that I can afford them. Why is this something to attack?'
Trend analyst Kim Yong-Sup, who helped popularize the term 'Young 40,' notes that the demographic was originally seen as vibrant and influential. However, as South Korea's median age rose, the label took on a negative connotation. Analytics platform SomeTrend reports that over half of the 100,000 online mentions of 'Young 40' in the past year were used pejoratively, often alongside words like 'old' and 'disgusting.'
Generational tensions in a hierarchical society
South Korea's rigid social hierarchy, where age dictates respect and behavior, has amplified the friction. Sociology professor Lee Jae-in explains that social media has blurred generational boundaries, eroding the traditional separation of cultural spaces. 'The old pattern where different generations consumed separate cultural spaces has largely disappeared,' he says.
The term 'kkondae'-used by younger Koreans to describe condescending elders-has resurfaced, reflecting broader skepticism toward age-based deference. Ji admits he now avoids organizing workplace gatherings, fearing he'll be labeled a 'kkondae' or 'Young 40.' 'I keep conversations focused on work,' he says, 'and only share personal stories when discussions deepen.'
A clash of economic realities
Psychologist Oh Eun-kyung suggests the mockery stems from deeper economic disparities. 'Young 40s are seen as the generation that made it through just before the door of opportunity closed,' she says. While they benefited from economic stability and a property boom, younger Koreans face soaring housing costs and fierce job competition.
Ji, who entered the workforce during the aftermath of the Asian financial crisis, counters that his generation had little to enjoy in their youth. 'We're a generation that experienced both cultures-strict top-down leadership from our seniors and the 'why?' culture of younger colleagues. We feel caught in between.'
The universal longing for youth
Kang, another 41-year-old fashion enthusiast, sees the backlash as part of a broader human desire. 'Longing for youth is something every generation shares,' he says. 'Wanting to look young is natural.'
Yet for Ji and others, the 'Young 40s' label has turned a once-celebrated identity into a source of self-consciousness. As generational divides widen, the debate highlights the challenges of aging in a rapidly changing society.
