Korean skincare, popularly known as “K-beauty,” has become one of South Korea’s most successful cultural exports, riding the global wave created by K-pop, K-dramas and the Hallyu movement. Once a niche segment, K-beauty is now a multi-billion-dollar global industry. But with soaring worldwide sales and dozens of foreign companies launching “K-beauty” product lines that are not actually manufactured in Korea, the question of what qualifies as authentic K-beauty is increasingly being asked.
Exports from South Korea reached $10.3bn last year, a dramatic increase from the $650m recorded in 2011. The sharp rise began in the 2010s, when international consumers became fascinated by elaborate Korean skincare routines, sometimes involving 10 steps with different products for cleansing, hydration, and treatment. The meticulous regimen, combined with minimalist packaging and innovative ingredients, helped build a dedicated global fan base.
Spotting the growing demand, US-based skincare company Seoul Ceuticals entered the market in 2017. Although none of its manufacturing happens in South Korea, the brand positions itself as offering “real, authentic Korean skincare,” arguing that its key ingredients, sourced from Korea, justify the label. Director of retail relationship, Ann Majeski, says the company was careful about transparency in the beginning but maintains that sourcing from Korea makes their products genuinely aligned with Korean skincare philosophy. The firm expects to cross $14m in sales in 2025 and is expanding in India, Latin America, Europe and Australia.
But many in the industry say authenticity requires more than borrowed ingredients. Korean co-founder of the Finland-based brand Hwarangpoom, Seung Gu Kim, insists that K-beauty should be rooted in Korean manufacturing, design, and cultural influence. His company develops products in Korea and only sells items produced there, a standard he believes separates true K-beauty from imitation. He points out that multinational luxury brands like Lancôme manufacture some products in Korea and Japan, but that does not turn them into Korean or Japanese brands.
Despite the confusion, there is still no official or legal definition of K-beauty. The K-beauty Industry Association—South Korea’s only government-approved trade body—says it has no intention of introducing one yet. Chairman Chang Nam Jang explains that the goal is expansion, especially in the US and Europe, where K-beauty is only beginning to take firm hold. Strict rules, he says, could slow the momentum. However, the association does require South Korean registration and Korea Food & Drug Administration approval for all member brands. A product tested and accepted in the Korean market, they argue, fits the definition of K-beauty.
But booming demand has brought problems far bigger than branding debates. Counterfeiting has become rampant. US-based anti-fraud company MarqVision recently investigated a leading K-beauty brand and found that 26 of 29 products purchased from major American online marketplaces were fake. In 2024 alone, the firm identified $280m worth of counterfeit K-beauty in the US, making online shopping a risky experience for consumers. K-beauty enthusiasts like Gracie Tullio say that sorting genuine products from fakes has become stressful and confusing.
Even as definitions blur and counterfeits rise, the economic stakes continue to grow. South Korea is now the world’s third-largest exporter of cosmetics, behind only France and the United States. Whether produced in Seoul or Seattle, the global race to bottle the K-beauty appeal shows no sign of slowing—yet what makes a product truly Korean remains an increasingly contested question.
