Why Koreans Carry Umbrellas on Sunny Days

Walk through Seoul on a bright day in August and you'll see something that takes a second to parse: umbrellas. Dozens of them, open, moving down a sidewalk under a completely clear sky.

It isn't going to rain. Nobody is confused about the weather. That's a yangsan — a sun umbrella — and it is one of the most sensible objects in this country.

Quick Verdict

 > A yangsan is an umbrella for sun, not rain. Using one is completely ordinary here.
 > Buy the 2-in-1 kind. A compact umbrella that works for both is the only one worth carrying.
 > It genuinely works — more shade and more UV cover than a hat, and it doesn't cook your head.
 > Sunscreen is the base layer. The parasol is the thing on top of it, not instead of it.
 > Still mostly women, though that has started to change.

Me, under one, on an ordinary sunny day.
This is the pretty one I take out sometimes — it isn't the one I actually carry, which we'll get to.

There Was No Moment I Started

People ask me when I started using one, expecting a story, and I don't have one. There was no moment.

The sun here is harsh, I go dark quickly, and I didn't want to. My friends carried them. Everyone on the street carried them. So I carried one. That is the entire origin. I only notice it's unusual when someone from outside points at it.

One crosswalk, one bright afternoon, three separate people under three separate umbrellas.
Not one of them is expecting rain.

I've come to think that's the honest shape of most of these Korean habits — nobody teaches you, nobody announces it, you just end up doing what the street is doing. It's the same reason Korean women wear sunscreen every single day without treating it as a decision.

Why It Beats a Hat

A parasol isn't a decorative object. It's the most effective piece of sun protection you can hold, for a reason that becomes obvious the moment you're standing in a Korean August: a hat shades your face, and a parasol shades all of you. Neck, shoulders, arms, the back of your hands.

There's also the heat. A Japanese environmental study found that using a parasol can bring the perceived temperature down by as much as 7°C, along with meaningfully better UV coverage than a hat. I can't independently verify the number, but the sensation is real and immediate — stepping under one on a 35-degree afternoon feels like stepping indoors for a second.

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Walking the dog. Notice how much of me is in shade — that's the part a hat can't do.

And a hat in this humidity is its own problem. It traps heat against your scalp and you sweat through it. That's the practical reason the parasol wins in summer, at least for me.

Buy the Two-in-One

This is the part I'd actually tell a visitor, and it's the thing most guides skip.

I do own a proper parasol and I take it out sometimes. But what I carry most of the time is a compact umbrella that does both jobs — sun and rain. They're sold everywhere here, they fold down small, and in a Korean summer they earn their space in the bag twice over, because the season is monsoon and heat in the same month. You will need rain cover and you will need shade, often on the same day.

This is the one that actually lives in my bag. Folded down it's the size of a water bottle.

If you're coming here and want one item that handles a Korean summer, that's the item. Get the small folding kind, not a full-size parasol.

Am I disciplined about it? Not especially. It's a nuisance to carry and I check the forecast and decide each morning. I'm a little less fussy about this than some of my friends — the ones who are more meticulous about how they put themselves together simply never leave the house without one. It's not optional for them.

On Set, Someone Holds It for Me

Here's the version of this you won't see on the street.

When I'm shooting outdoors, my manager carries an enormous black umbrella — and I mean enormous — and holds it over me the entire time I'm waiting between takes. Every single time. It isn't a favor or a nice gesture; it's understood as part of the job.

And it's specifically the managers who carry them, more than the crew. If you ever find yourself near an outdoor shoot in Korea, look for the person standing slightly behind the actor holding a black umbrella in full sun. That's the manager.

Which tells you something about how the industry thinks about sun. Nobody is worried about comfort. They're worried about what an afternoon of direct sun does to skin that has to match yesterday's footage.

Do Men Use Them?

You'll read that the parasol has crossed over — that this year's heat pushed it past gender and age into something everyone carries. The papers have been saying so.

A mother walking her kids home under one.
The two men a few steps away are in full sun, which is roughly the ratio I see.

From where I stand, that's ahead of what I actually see. It's still overwhelmingly women. I do spot a man under one occasionally now, which I don't think was true a few years ago, so something is moving. But "everyone carries one" is not yet the street I walk down.

If you're a man visiting and you want one, use one. Nobody will look at you strangely, and you will be noticeably less miserable.

Where It Sits in the Routine

People sometimes assume the parasol replaces sunscreen. It doesn't, and I want to be clear about the order:

• Sunscreen is non-negotiable. Every day, regardless of everything else. I've written about how to choose one properly.
• Then one physical barrier on top — a hat or a parasol. I aim for one of the two whenever I'm going to be out in it.
• In summer, that's the parasol, because the hat is too hot. In cooler months I'd rather wear the hat.

The other layer, if you've been reading along, is clothing — the thin long sleeve that covers your arms in August. Sunscreen, a sleeve, and something over your head. That's the whole system, and none of it is complicated once you stop finding it odd.

If You See One and Want One

They're everywhere — convenience stores, Daiso, any department store, street stalls near a subway exit when it's hot. Ask for a yangsan, or for the combined kind, an uyangsan. They cost very little and they will change your afternoon.

The only real adjustment is the first day, when opening an umbrella under a blue sky feels like you're doing something wrong. Give it a block. By the end of the street you'll be looking at everyone standing in the sun and wondering what exactly they're proving.

The parasol is really just the first step of a longer problem, which is getting a face through a Korean August intact. I've since written out the whole of that argument — what holds up under set lighting, where it fails first, and why shade comes before any product.