LAST WEEK A FRIEND OF MINE sent me a record by The Magic Bullets, a band from San Francisco. (Okay, it was a torrent link, but that’s how we roll here in the East.) The album sounds a little like The Walkmen, a bit like The Strokes, and the timing couldn’t have been better. New York City punk fashion has just arrived in Korea. Now when I cruise down the streets of Busan listening to Magic Bullets, I feel like I’m back in pre-9/11 New York. Back when people were starting to mutter that The Strokes were imposters and The White Stripes were the real deal.

Of course, punk fashion itself goes back much further—to the time I was born (early ’70s). Those were the post-Warhol Velvet Underground days, leading up to The Ramones and Television, whose original guitarist Richard Hell is credited with more or less inventing the NYC punk style.

My first indication that it had arrived in Korea was when my wife came home with a new leather purse with a leopard pattern scarf tied around the handle. A welcome change of pace from her usual Gucci and Louis Vuitton knock-offs (favored by a lot of Korean women). Since we met shortly after I arrived in Korea in 2002, I tried to encourage her to abandon her high-heels for some black Pumas or white Converse high tops, maybe get into some skinny black jeans. Let her hair go shaggy. She never bought into it. I think I was trying to vicariously pull off that look though her.

When I was in the time and place to wear that look, I had no ability to pull it off. I was sporting more of a Will Oldham-cum-Creedence Clearwater Revival look when I lived in Brooklyn; balding curly reddish hair—the kind that had no hopes of possibly being dyed black or grown to look like a mushroom cloud.

The strange thing, especially in light of these vintage NYC styles hitting Busan, is the fact that Koreans DO NOT wear used clothing. A lot of people see it as being shameful. This could be because the country itself is newly minted. They haven’t reached financial heights where one feels comfortable looking like shit to express how rich one really is. Or maybe, as my wife says, “used clothes could have ghosts.” Regardless, “vintage” apparel is without exception factory new.

The default street style, however, remains the “hip hop” look, which is almost entirely comprised of wearing sports team paraphernalia. There are shops here called MLB that sell nothing but variations of baseball team logo shirts, jackets and shoes. You need a $45 pink Yankees hat with sparkles? Been looking for those $200 blue-and-yellow leather high tops with the Giants logo on it? Come on over to Korea. It’ll still be here in 2010.

I’ve seen some downright weird stuff too. My favorite was a purple faux-velour sweat suit that had “Pineapple Tinkle” spelled out in cursive sequins on the back. Just last week, in a home store selling clothes primarily for housewives, I saw a shirt with an American flag that said “Marijuana Tradition.” (Koreans may misuse English words, but they don’t misspell them as often as in other Asian countries, as some semi-racist Web sites seem to enjoy pointing out.)

The marijuana fad peaked two years back, when a flood of marijuana-oriented shirts hit Korea. For one hot summer, young Koreans everywhere were sporting shirts with Bob Marley smoking a fatty and Yankee hats with marijuana leaves on the sides. Mind you, if you were actually caught smoking weed in Korea you’d probably get your lips cut off.

About a year ago someone flooded the market with T-shirts that sported The Ramones debut album cover. It was only a design concept, I promise you. Kim Jong-Il is more likely to know who The Ramones are than the average South Korean. This isn’t Japan. Western music isn’t as popular here as one might assume. Korean pop music often sounds Western, but written and performed by Koreans with lyrics that are downright wholesome (first love, respecting your parents).

After a while, even little kids and older housewives were wearing The Ramones shirts. It was surreal, but fun, and a foreshadow of good things to come. The tight black jeans were next. A few ’70s era Rolling Stones concert shirts made the rounds. Leather jackets. And then came my own personal favorite, the black-and-white horizontal striped shirts. Pure V.U.

Nowadays, I have the strangest feeling of familiarity when a young Korean pops into the cafe I hang out at. For the first time, really, Koreans look very cool to me. Like I could invite them over for a chat about No Wave bands or Hal Hartley films.

The other night, a Friday, I saw a couple guys sporting the NYC threads near my apartment. “Where you guys off to tonight?” I asked them in Korean. “Southern Hip Hop Club Night,” one of them replied in English.

Fair enough. I put The Magic Bullets back in my ears and headed off. I walked into my apartment to find my wife watching TV. A young Korean male celebrity type was pretending to serenade a female celebrity who was wearing a high school uniform. The guy was wearing a leather jacket and a black hooded sweatshirt with the British flag on it. With a shaggy black hair cut, he looked a lot like Julian Casablancas circa 2002, except he was singing a ballad. I checked my computer to see how much longer “Wassup Rockers” had left to download. •

Aaron Tassano lives in Busan, Korea. You can visit him at aarontassano.com.