The Beach Towel Made From the Idea of a King’s Robe

What I Saw When I Unfolded It

It’s sold as a beach towel. When I unfolded it, the first thing I noticed was the big gold dragon on purple, based on the emblem of a Joseon king’s gonryongpo, or dragon robe. The cloth was larger than I expected and felt more like a thin textile spread out in front of me than a towel I’d take from the bathroom.

I bought it to keep. I’m still reluctant to use it to dry myself. It’s the sort of souvenir I unfold once in a while and find myself remembering how I got it.

It cost around ₩45,000 at the time. What stayed with me more than the price was the time it took to buy one.

---

Getting One Felt Like Buying Concert Tickets

The shop released them online on a first-come basis. As soon as the sale opened, shopping began to feel more like booking a seat for a concert.

I signed in at the appointed time and landed in a queue instead of on the product page. Five minutes went by, then ten, then twenty. It took nearly half an hour to get in. By then I still had to get through payment.

I put one in my basket and the payment failed. The session expired. Signing in again put me back in the queue, and card verification gave me another error. I got one on the first sale day and three more in a later release. I can still remember waiting with my hand tight on the mouse for the approval text to arrive.

By then, getting one felt like an achievement in itself.

---

Why It Drew So Much Attention

The dragon robe was getting a new audience through Korean popular culture. In August 2025, photographs from the National Museum of Korea showed Ngô Phương Ly, the spouse of Vietnam’s Tô Lâm, looking at the towel during a visit with Kim Hye-kyung. Reports at the time said she bought one as a gift.

People were already trying to get their hands on it. Notices about a new release brought crowds to the online shop, queues formed, and the towel went out of stock again. I hadn’t expected to see a museum shop work that way.

---

The Thing I Hardly Use

After all that, I hardly use it. I don’t plan to take it to the beach and it feels too nice to use in the bathroom. It stays folded until I take it out to look at it.

The moment I see the dragon again, I can remember the queue, the payment error and the small burst of relief when the text came through. The object brings the experience of getting it back with it.

A museum souvenir can bring home the time you spent around something as much as the thing itself.

The towel is folded away with the memory of that long wait still in it.

Product Information

Gonryongpo dragon-robe beach towel