'The History of Washing' explores bathing culture in Korea

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'The History of Washing' explores bathing culture in Korea

Published: 20 Mar. 2025, 15:20

Audio report: written by reporters, read by AI

Lee In-hye, a former curator at the National Folk Museum of Korea, recently published a book titled ″The History of Washing” (2024). Lee poses for a photo in front of an old public bathhouse near the National Folk Museum in central Seoul. [JOONGANG ILBO]

Back in Korea's 1970s to early '80s, many Korean households had no proper showers or bathtubs which made visiting a public bathhouse every weekend a necessary ritual. Scrubbing down with a so-called "Italy towel," covered in clouds of steam, was more than a mere visit to clean the body — it was a social event for many.

But with the introduction of apartments in Korea with bathrooms, and more recently, quickened by the Covid-19 pandemic, public bathhouses that used to be a pillar of neighborhood life, are rapidly disappearing.

[WEEKEND GETAWAY] Lean back and relax at a private bathhouse

Bathtubs and showers at home have now negated the need for communal bathing and the trend has accelerated with the emergence of one-person bath salons, where professional scrubbers known as sesinsa, offer private exfoliation services. The act of scouring away dead skin cells using textured towels, was usually done inside public bathhouses. What was once a shared cultural experience is now becoming an increasingly private act.

So-called Italy towels are coarse cloth used by Koreans to scrub off dead skin cells. Such towels are sold in various colors at street markets. [JOONGANG ILBO]

“I was born in 1985, and until I began researching for this book, I hadn’t stepped foot in a public bathhouse since I was nine years old,” said Lee In-hye, a former curator at the National Folk Museum of Korea and the author of “The History of Washing” (Hyeonamsa, 2024). “As bathhouses started disappearing, I realized they were an important part of our folklore and needed to be documented.”

Her research began in 2019, culminating in a two-year field study that examined over 200 bathhouses across the country. The result was an earlier report, “Mokyoktang: A Cultural History of Bathing in Korea,” which she has since expanded into her latest book. (Mokyoktang is a Korean word which refers to a public bathhouse.) The physical toll of her research, she said with a laugh, was substantial.

“I had to scrub down two or three times a day. My skin can’t handle bathhouses anymore,” she said.

Cover of Lee's new book “The History of Washing” (2024), published by Hyeonamsa. [HYEONAMSA]

Lee’s book is divided into three sections. The first explores global bathing cultures, including the Thermae, the famed public bathhouses of ancient Rome. The second traces the evolution of bathing in Korea, from the Three Kingdoms period (57 B.C. — A.D. 668) to Japanese colonial rule (1910—1945). The third focuses on the modern bathhouse, examining its role in contemporary Korean society.

One of the book’s most compelling insights is how Japanese colonialism reframed Korean bathing habits. Historically, Koreans embraced communal bathing rituals, from royal hot spring baths to seasonal cleansing rites like the Dano Festival. However, during the colonial period, the Japanese administration painted Koreans as “dirty and lazy,” according to Lee, reinforcing a civilization-versus-primitive binary.

“There have always been multiple meanings attached to washing — not just hygiene, but also penance, religious purification and social bonding,” Lee said. “But as germ theory and modern medicine advanced, cleanliness became a marker of civilization. Japan, having adopted this perspective from the West earlier, viewed itself as superior to its Korean colony.”

Yet access to modern bathing facilities was far from equal. Running water and bathhouses were first established in Japanese residential areas, leaving Koreans with limited access. While some Koreans eventually opened their own bathhouses, the cost remained prohibitive for most, reinforcing the divide.

After liberation in 1945, public bathhouses remained a luxury rather than a daily necessity. Bathing was infrequent, and when people did visit the bathhouse, they would scrub off weeks’ worth of accumulated grime.

“That’s how Korea’s famous scrubbing culture emerged,” Lee said. “If people could bathe daily, there would be no need for such intense exfoliation.”

By the late 1960s, the invention of the Italy towel — the green, sandpaper-like exfoliating cloth that became synonymous with Korean bathhouses — helped cement Korea’s unique approach to bathing. Around the same time, the professional bath scrubbers known as sesinsa emerged as a profession, offering deep-cleaning services to those willing to pay for them.

Public bathhouses expanded rapidly in the postwar era. In 1960, there were only 146 bathhouses in Seoul. By 1985, that number had surged to 1,768, thanks to urbanization and improved water infrastructure. Bathhouses became more than just places to bathe — they served as social hubs, alongside barbershops, rice mills, and local markets.

But the tide began to turn as homes modernized. The introduction of boilers, indoor plumbing and home water heaters made private bathing more accessible, shifting the cultural perception of cleanliness. “People still wash themselves, but when and where they do it has changed drastically,” Lee observed.

The Covid-19 pandemic dealt another blow to communal bathing culture. Increased public concern over hygiene and shared spaces has led many Koreans to avoid public bathhouses, as well as their close relative, the Korean-style sauna known as jjimjilbang.

Public bathhouses are on the verge of disappearing. According to Lee, fewer than 400 bathhouses remain in Seoul, and their numbers continue to dwindle. [NEWS1]

Inside of a public bathhouse in Korea [NEWS1]

Today, fewer than 400 bathhouses remain in Seoul, and their numbers continue to dwindle.

Despite their decline, Lee argues that bathhouses still serve an important function — particularly for vulnerable populations, including low-income seniors and one-person households without adequate washing facilities.

“For those who lack proper bathing infrastructure, bathhouses remain a vital resource,” she said. “We need to think about how we can preserve them, not just as a relic of the past, but as an essential part of public welfare.”

BY KANG HYE-RAN [[email protected]]