When we still lived in Seoul around 2014, I worked with a colleague named Song at a public school. She was one of the most interesting people I have ever met; an outside-the-box thinker with a sharp eye for arts and emerging trends. Song was the first person to tell me about a mysterious neighbourhood called Mullae-dong.
Other cool cats also quietly whispered about it. They called it the new Hongdae before the masses caught on.
Despite those early recommendations, we never actually made it to Mullae until my most recent trip toSeoul. We finally set aside an entire afternoon to check out a few must-try spots to eat in Seoul and see if the reality lived up to the decade-old hype.
We began our journey in Seongbuk-gu in northern Seoul. While the subway is faster, we always prefer taking the bus for the views.
We crossed the Han River with a sweeping view of the golden 63 Building as we skirted past Yeouido. Soon enough, the sleek skyscrapers vanished, and we arrived in the heart of Yeongdeungpo.
We hopped off the bus and walked the final block until we found the low-slung roofs of Mullae-dong Art Village.
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The Rebel History of Mullae-dong
Mullae-dong was once the industrial heart of the city. In the 1970s and 80s, it was packed with over 1,700 small metal workshops and iron foundries. As the industry began to shift and factories moved out in the late 90s, the neighbourhood was left with a collection of empty, oil-stained warehouses.
While the rest of the city was chasing wealth and polished skyscrapers, a group of rebels from the Hongdae art scene decided they had seen enough. Hongdae was becoming too commercial and far too expensive.
These artists staged an exodus from northern Seoul and crossed the river to Mullae, attracted by the cheap rent and the fact that they could make as much noise as they wanted without disturbing the neighbours.
Today, over 200 artists live and work alongside the remaining ironworkers. This creates a gritty and authentic creative community that refuses to follow the typical Seoul trend cycle.
The area is anchored by the Seoul Art Space Mullae, a dedicated hub that supports the hundreds of artists still working in these industrial alleys.
A Study in Quiet Contrast
Stepping into Mullae felt remarkably normal. It was a Wednesday afternoon in November, and the neighbourhood was much quieter than I had expected. The autumn sun hit the poplar leaves that were just starting to turn beautifully.
Unlike the high energy of Hongdae or the curated vibes of Hapjeong, Mullae felt unpretentious. Cool without trying.
Every few metres, we passed open-fronted units where metal pipes, round, square, and hexagonal, were stacked into racks. To the workers, it was simple inventory, but to my eyes, it looked like a calculated piece of modern art.
At one workshop, the scene was irresistible: a welder was at work, sparks flying everywhere, while a perfect shaft of afternoon light illuminated the smoke. It was the quintessential Mullae shot. But as I raised my camera to capture the moment, Jin quickly pointed to a nearby sign.
No Photography.
It was a sharp reminder that while we were there for the vibe, these men were there for their livelihood. In Mullae, the art village and the ironworks coexist, and you’re constantly reminded that the neighbourhood still has its original soul.
Lunch at Goatt Delicatessen
Goatt Delicatessen is a handsome beast of a building. You don’t need a map to find it; the bold signage screams YOU’RE IN THE RIGHT PLACE from halfway down the street.
We headed up the stairs and into what is easily Mullae’s most famous haunt. It’s effortlessly cool, but not in that trying-too-hard way you find in Seongsu. It’s rustic, bright, and filled with light.
They’ve taken those industrial pipe racks we saw in the workshops downstairs and repurposed them. But instead of cold iron pipes, the cubicles are overflowing with fresh baguettes and sourdough. It’s a clever nod to the street below, but much tastier.
I immediately clocked the wine rack, with just a handful of French bottles, unpretentious and priced for people who actually like to drink, not just pose. If I still lived in Seoul, this would be my local for a casual bottle and a long afternoon with mates.
But we were here for the carbs.
I went for the Jambon Beurre. A baguette with the perfect pull to it, stuffed with ham and thick slices of butter. A dash of mustard pulled it all together. It was, quite simply, jolly good.
Jin, however, won the day with the Bacon Apple Sandwich. Let’s be real: this thing is phenomenal. We’re talking thick, fatty slabs of bacon and grilled apple slices between two pieces of toast. It was as good as it sounds!
Always Drunken Mood
With lunch sorted and a 6:00 PM reservation at Dallas Pizza looming, we had no itinerary, which is, perhaps, the only correct way to experience Mullae-dong. We simply walked.
The streets here are a strange, rhythmic loop: three metal workshops, one quirky bar, a hole-in-the-wall café, and then back to the industrial clatter.
We paused outside Chu Sang, a local makgeolli (rice wine) bar, drawn in by their vintage-inspired posters. One featured a man in a white hanbok standing next to a tiger under the slogan: Always Drunken Mood.
Makgeolli, Korea’s traditional, cloudy rice wine, is currently having a massive revival. It’s moved far beyond the plastic bottles in convenience stores, with new bars are popping up everywhere serving nothing but artisanal flavours like hazelnut (my new favourite) or chestnut.
But since the November sun was still high, we decided to save the drunken mood for later and kept moving.
On another corner, a large building with at least ten doors of varying sizes and colours caught our eye. This was Alice Pocha, a playful, slightly surrealist nod to Alice in Wonderland, mashed up with a classic Korean Pocha.
What is a Pocha? > Short for pojangmacha (covered wagon), a traditional pocha is that iconic orange tents serving street food and soju on plastic stools. They’re great for late-night street food and drinks under one canvas.
Even in the daylight, you could tell this place comes alive once the sun drops. We had a quick peek inside, but with the empty tables and the afternoon light, it felt like a stage set waiting for the actors to arrive. We moved on, still drifting deeper into the maze of iron workshops.
Sourdough and Sights at Ip-heojeon (입허전)
After a slow lap around the northern workshops, we found ourselves back in front of Goatt Deli. We noticed a steady stream of people disappearing into a doorway directly opposite. Jin recognised the name 입허전 (Ip-heojeon). It is one of Mullae’s heavyweight bakeries.
We originally stepped inside just for a coffee. That plan evaporated the second we saw the display shelves. Coffee turned into a full-scale carb load. I had to try the cream cheese-loaded pretzel. Jin decided her life would be incomplete without the fig sourdough baguette.
We spent the next hour in the European-style space. We listened to French music and nibbled on some seriously fine bread. For a moment, we felt more like we were in a Marais side street than an industrial district in South Korea.
The Southern Circuit: Murals and Mexican Food
Slightly panicked that we’d ruined our appetites with that impromptu bread session at Ip-heojeon, we decided to spend the hour before dinner walking it off. We crossed over to the southern side of the neighbourhood and, once again, let the alleys decide our route.
This side of Mullae feels different—denser and more restaurant-heavy than the northern blocks. You’re still passing active workshops where grinders send showers of sparks onto the pavement, but they are sandwiched between some of the coolest-looking bars in the city.
We strolled past Old Mullae, a massive factory-turned-gastropub that looked like it was overflowing with greenery and industrial relics. Further down, we spotted Jiu Jiu, a moody, Hong Kong-style bar, and a surprising cluster of Mexican spots.
God Eat immediately went on my next time list, mostly because of that name, but also because I have a bit of a weakness for Mexican food. Nearby, a tiny, unassuming spot called Taco Birria looked like it could make a mean taco.
We also passed Rust Bakery, another of Mullae’s heavy hitters. It’s a stunning industrial space that I would usually be all over, but after our afternoon carb load, I simply didn’t have any space left for a second bakery run.
This part of the walk was a sensory overload in the best way: catching the orange glow of a welding torch one second and a massive, colourful mural the next. It’s a constant loop of making mental notes of all the bars and cafes we had to come back for.
Dinner at Dallas Pizza
We arrived at Dallas Pizza five minutes before opening. There was already a line forming in the alley. This is one of the best restaurants in Mullae, and reservations are essential. Jin had booked a table on their website the day before.
Finding the place is a challenge even with Naver Map. It is tucked away at the very end of a dead-end alley right next to a metal workshop. This is a genuine hidden gem.
The interior wowed me immediately. It’s small, intimate, and perfectly reflects the neighbourhood—cool without trying. Polished aluminium tables catch and reflect the red and blue neon signs, creating a vibe that feels artsy and trendy but still firmly grounded.
I started with a Kozel Dark beer. It came served with a sugar-cinnamon rim, which sounds strange, but it actually works. They also serve a Fresh Cream Draught, a concoction of beer and whipped cream that looks more like a milkshake. We weren’t quite brave enough to try that one, though the table next to us ordered it, and it looked like trouble.
For the pizza, we went for a 4-way split to try a bit of everything: Spicy Shrimp, Pepperoni, Nachos, and Arugula.
The toppings were handled with incredible care. The pepperoni and shrimp were laid out like overlapping medallions, covering every square inch of the slice. The cheese was silky smooth—I don’t know what their secret is, but it was easily the best pizza I’ve ever had. It was a spectacular end to a day that proved Mullae-dong isn’t just hype; it’s the real deal.
Mullae-dong is the perfect example of why I love this city. It is unpredictable, quirky, and completely authentic. If you are looking for more neighbourhoods that dance to their own rhythm, my Seoul Travel Guide covers my favourite quiet corners and local secrets across the rest of the city.
Mullae-dong Art village vs Seongsu-dong:
A Tale of Two Cools
If you have spent any time researching Seoul lately, you have likely seen Seongsu-dong at the top of every list. Both neighbourhoods are undeniably quirky and cool, but they offer very different versions of hip.
For me, one is cool without trying while the other is a bit of an attention whore
Seongsu-dong is a busy and ever-changing Gen Z paradise. It is the centre of Seoul’s pop-up culture. You never really know what to expect from one week to the next because shops and galleries appear and vanish overnight. It can feel a little frantic.
I remember being told to put away my camera in a Seongsu cafe. That just shows how stuck up Seongsu can be.
Mullae-dong is the cool one without trying. It is much quieter and feels like a genuine local neighbourhood. While Seongsu is constantly chasing or creating the next big trend, Mullae simply dances to its own rhythm.
It feels more permanent and grounded. There is no pressure to perform here. You are just as likely to see an ironworker in overalls as you are to see a trendy artist. That lack of pretension is exactly what makes it the real deal.
If you like little hidden gem neighbourhoods like Mullae, also put Buam-dong on your list of places to visit in Seoul.