By Rodrigo Uchoa, special for Brazil Stock Guide
On a street lined with modest row houses in a traditionally working-class São Paulo neighborhood undergoing rapid gentrification, the crowd gathered outside a small restaurant is hard to miss. Inside the narrow townhouse, the setting is simple: folding wooden chairs, brown paper placemats covered in indecipherable Korean script, attentive service, and dishes that avoid theatrics yet remain deeply appealing.
Kimchi bokkeumbap, rice, grilled meats, pancetta, stews, fermented specialties, and recipes rooted in family memory fill the menu. Securing a table at Komah requires planning. On some nights, the line resembles the scramble for tickets to a BTS concert, the group that is arguably the biggest star in the K-pop universe.
The diner waiting outside Komah, much like the occasional Korean pop music fan, is experiencing one of the most interesting economic and cultural phenomena of the twenty-first century. Twenty years ago, South Korea exported primarily industrial products: automobiles, electronics, and steel. The country built its wealth on industries that gave rise to global brands such as Hyundai and Samsung, now part of daily life for consumers around the world. Today, however, South Korea also sells aspirations. It exports music, television series, cosmetics, and fashion trends. The word that defines this phenomenon is Hallyu, or the “Korean Wave.”
In Brazil, some first encountered Korea through pop groups such as BTS and Blackpink. Others arrived through Korean dramas on Netflix. Some came via cinema after Parasite won the Academy Award for Best Picture. More recently, many have discovered Korea through food, whether in neighborhoods such as Bom Retiro, the heart of São Paulo’s Korean immigrant community, or in Barra Funda, home to Komah.
South Korea has transformed this form of soft power into economic policy. The latest survey by the Korean Foundation for International Cultural Exchange (KOFICE), produced in partnership with the country’s Ministry of Culture, estimates that Hallyu generated nearly US$19 billion in exports in 2025, a 15.9% increase over the previous year. The broader economic impact associated with Hallyu reached almost US$32 billion in output and supported more than 242,000 direct and indirect jobs.
The popular image of the Korean Wave is still largely tied to K-pop, but its reach extends far beyond music. Video games, for example, account for 64.3% of South Korea’s cultural content exports, while films and television series continue to expand their global footprint, particularly through streaming platforms.
Korean policymakers understand that a young consumer who starts with K-pop is more likely to develop an interest in streaming dramas, skincare products, or Korean cuisine. According to an analysis published by the Korea Creative Content Agency (KOCCA), every additional US$100 million in cultural content exports generates approximately US$202 million in exports from related industries.
Hollywood played a similar role for the United States for decades. Japan has long benefited from anime, manga, and video games. The United Kingdom continues to reap cultural dividends from its music, literature, and fashion industries. Since the late 1990s, regardless of ideological orientation, successive governments in Seoul have recognized culture as a strategic asset, establishing incentive programs, financing mechanisms, export initiatives, and institutions dedicated to the international promotion of Korean content.
The numbers point to success, but no statistical curve sustains infinite growth. In an international KOFICE survey covering 27,400 consumers across 30 countries, 70.3% of respondents said they enjoy Korean cultural content. The result is clearly positive, yet it also hints at a degree of fatigue in countries such as Thailand, Malaysia, and Vietnam, all of which have been crucial markets for the Korean Wave. In 2021, the figure stood at 77%.
While revenues, exports, and monetization continue to rise, audience growth is advancing at a slower pace.
This divergence between a relatively stable audience and rising revenues may ultimately distinguish those who merely rode a viral trend from those who built a recurring business. For investors, the central question is which players, along the chain stretching from the concert stage to a jar of gochujang, will be best positioned to extract greater value from an audience that already exists. Companies such as Hybe, the South Korean entertainment conglomerate, and Amorepacific, the cosmetics giant, are effectively betting on just that: improving the monetization of consumers who are already engaged.
Komah, in many ways, illustrates this second phase of the Korean Wave. The line outside suggests that nobody there was discovering Korea for the first time that night. A couple dressed in pieces from Sabot’s collection created in collaboration with artist Monique Pak sip a Khaennip Sour, a cocktail made with soju, gin, khaennip, lemon, and egg white. The woman lets out a sigh: “Waiting is a pain, but it’s worth it for the Samgyeopsal,” she says, referring to the glazed pancetta served with gochujang.
That is one of the Korean Wave’s challenges: convincing people who have already been won over to keep lining up for more.
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