this is family bowl. shot by leeroy kim at a bowling alley in seoul, the series captures five families — different generations and different constructions — one saturday afternoon, all in extreme cashmere.


soyoung and leehyun met through fashion but grew closer through travel. their families are just getting to know each other, but there’s an undeniable warmth between them already.



leehyun runs a gallery, works as a creative director and models occasionally. she wears many hats — and the ramble in tomato, britney in corn and america in oleander.



chunja is about to turn 90. pairing the jewel in navy with the line in dust, she went bowling for the first time. “gran got to be the star she was always meant to be,” her granddaughter nana says.



sean is the family’s most recent addition. asked to introduce himself, he kept it short and sweet: “i’m nana’s husband. nothing else is important.” he wears the july in grey with the run in mud — gentle and considered, like the man himself.



their family runs on in-jokes. sean noticed it the moment he arrived. at family bowl, he and nana — she in the june in camel — shared many tender moments.



with din tai fung every weekend and mango shaved ice for dessert, three childhood years in beijing brought ian, jian and minjun closer than they could ever have imagined. the family bowl palette suits them — the ramble in oleander, the luce in grass, the xtra cute in tomato. “we can love completely without complete understanding,” ian says.



“it is our hearts that love and cherish each other,” their mother park explains. “a heart that will never change.”



bada’s mom raised someone who looks at every single detail with care and carves it out so people can share the same feeling without a word being spoken.



sunghwan arrived at bada’s bar, kockiri, as a regular. byungseok came through a friend. what keeps them coming back is harder to explain.



like mother, like son. at family bowl, both bada and his mom shine in grass.



fried chicken at 10pm was a ritual so ingrained sihwan assumed every family did it. some things feel universal until you look around and realize they’re entirely your own.



at the alley, sihwan held his mother’s hand. his family has been caring for her for seven years. “even in this darkness,” his father says, “we live feeling happiness.”



sook-hee hopes her daughter becomes someone with the strength to silently and steadfastly protect her world — and the warmth to never give up on people. she goes for a strike, wearing the line in felt.