In the cinematic worlds of Korean dramas, and indeed in the kaleidoscopic alleys of Seoul’s nightlife, alcohol is never merely consumed—it is shared. It is a vessel of laughter, apology, intimacy, and ritual. Soju glasses clinked beneath neon signs. Makgeolli ladled into brass bowls after hikes. Beer bottles chilling on convenience store tables under the spring moon. Korean culture does not just drink—it communes.
And in this constellation of beverages, damgeumju—infused liquor—occupies a poetic place. Unlike the quick gulp of soju or the communal joviality of beer, damgeumju requires time. Patience. It is not made but formed, aged slowly with herbs, roots, or fruits immersed in soju or rice wine, sometimes for years. A bottle of damgeumju, gifted from one generation to another, holds more than flavor. It holds memory.
Now, with the introduction of the CYLO | SPACE AGING LIQUOR project by LFD, this memory has left the atmosphere. What happens when tradition leaves gravity behind? When a centuries-old drink floats among the stars? The result is not merely innovation—it is cultural alchemy.
The Essence of Damgeumju: A Drink of Time and Intention
To understand CYLO, one must first understand damgeumju not as a product, but as an experience. The word itself is built from “dam” (to contain), “geum” (precious), and “ju” (liquor), implying a liquid that contains what is treasured. It is not something rushed. It begins with clear soju or sometimes baekseju, and into this neutral spirit are placed hand-picked ingredients—jujube, ginseng, quince, ginger, omija, or pine needles. Then: the waiting.
Traditional Korean families often store these infusions in their cellars or glass cabinets, allowing nature and time to transform the liquid into something complex, bitter-sweet, and ritualistically shared at milestones—weddings, anniversaries, ancestral rites. Each bottle carries with it its own micro-history: who made it, why, when.
It is a drink that remembers.
CYLO: A Future-Bound Ferment
CYLO, short for Cyclic Liquor Observatory, is not just a liquor—it is a philosophical exercise in possibility. It is the point where ethnobotany meets astrophysics. Developed by LFD (Life From Design), a Seoul-based experimental design studio known for speculative and future-facing works, CYLO proposes a bold hypothesis: if aging on Earth offers complexity, what might aging in zero gravity yield?
This is not just marketing sensationalism. Space is a radically different environment. The absence of gravity means no sedimentation, no stratification, no traditional convectional movement. The interaction between liquid and ingredients in this unique condition suggests an entirely new flavor evolution—one shaped by suspension, stasis, and cosmic radiation. It redefines the idea of infusion.
The CYLO project, therefore, is as much a scientific experiment as a poetic offering. It explores how Korean cultural identity might evolve in an era of commercial spaceflight, off-world habitation, and planetary diaspora. What stories will future Koreans tell in lunar colonies? What toasts will they make aboard orbital hotels?
CYLO offers a possible answer: they will raise glasses of space-aged damgeumju and still taste home.
The Design of Memory and Matter: LFD’s Signature
LFD is not just a design firm—it is an idea engine. Their body of work resists categorization, sitting at the intersection of product, speculative fiction, industrial aesthetics, and cultural futurism. CYLO emerges from this unique crucible of design thinking. For LFD, liquor isn’t simply to be consumed. It is to be narrated.
The CYLO vessel is a marvel of narrative form. Eschewing the typical earthbound bottle, the liquor is housed in a capsule-shaped glass cylinder with a silver-chromed base that evokes both spacecraft design and traditional Korean onggi clay jars. Inside, the floating ingredients do not sink—they drift, suspended like thoughts in dream.
Each bottle is accompanied by a digital aging log—not a label, but a cosmic diary, tracking not only Earth days but orbital mileage, sun exposure, and thermal shifts. It transforms the bottle into an artifact, a time capsule, and in doing so reaffirms the original spirit of damgeumju: a drink for posterity.
Infusion as Philosophy: What Space Alters
The scientific merit of CYLO lies in the evolving study of terroir beyond Earth. Winegrowers have long emphasized the importance of soil, air, and climate in their grapes. So what happens when liquor is aged in an environment devoid of soil, traditional climate, or oxygen?
Zero gravity disrupts fluid dynamics. Without gravity to pull denser elements downward, the interactions between fruit, herb, and spirit become democratically diffuse. Every slice of ginseng, every goji berry, remains suspended, infusing not in tiers but in simultaneity. This is infusion not as verticality but as constellation.
Moreover, the lack of atmospheric pressure, coupled with ambient radiation exposure, has speculative implications for flavor volatility. Flavors may soften or sharpen unpredictably. Time itself may act differently—not faster, but more receptively.
Damgeumju, in its Earth-bound form, is already a narrative drink. In CYLO, it becomes meta-narrative—a story of what happens when memory meets metaphysics.
Cosmic Rites and Cultural Continuity
If damgeumju is a heritage drink for marking terrestrial milestones—graduations, births, ancestor veneration—then CYLO asks: what will our rituals look like when we live beyond the stratosphere? What if New Year’s Eve is celebrated aboard a rotating habitat above Mars? What toast is made when a child is born in a lunar dome?
This is not speculative fiction. Space agencies across Asia, including Korea’s KASA, have made clear their ambitions for moon bases, commercial stations, and long-duration human spaceflight. The cultural implications of such shifts are rarely addressed. CYLO offers an answer through liquid ritual.
Imagine opening a bottle of damgeumju aged in low-Earth orbit, the liquid tasted on Earth but crafted between planets. A drink created in silence. A bottle that drifted above mountains, cities, oceans, and then returned.
It becomes, in essence, a global citizen. A planetary heirloom. And in this, Korea is not exporting its traditions; it is elevating them.
The Launch Ceremony: Blending Drama with Cosmos
The first CYLO series was not launched quietly. Held in Seoul’s Seongsu-dong, a neighborhood known for its creative energy, LFD transformed a repurposed gallery into a spaceship-inspired tasting room. Guests donned sterilized gloves and entered a room of low ambient light, white LED grids, and chrome surfaces.
The ritual was solemn. Not a party but a cosmic communion.
Each guest was invited to uncork their bottle using a custom tool resembling a satellite instrument. The aroma—floral, earthy, strange—rose slowly, like vapor from dry ice. They sipped. And in that moment, a drink born of centuries floated on the tongues of the curious, the nostalgic, the speculative.
Here was damgeumju, and here was the future.
What Lies Ahead: The Future of Space-Aged Liquor
While the CYLO debut was limited to a collector’s edition of 100 bottles, plans for larger batches are underway. Discussions with private aerospace partners suggest the possibility of recurring orbital infusions, as well as expansion into new ingredients—space-fermented kimchi spirits, ginseng aged aboard weather satellites, makgeolli brewed in simulated lunar gravity.
This isn’t simply novelty. It’s heritage engineering.
In a global market saturated with artisan spirits and designer packaging, CYLO dares to propose something rare: a liquor not just designed but philosophized. In doing so, it speaks not only to Korea’s tradition but to humanity’s yearning to carry culture with us—even beyond Earth.
Final Reflection: A Toast to Time
There is a saying in Korea: “술이 사람을 만들고, 사람은 술을 완성한다.”
(Liquor shapes the person, and the person completes the liquor.)
With CYLO, LFD has sent this idea to orbit and brought it home transformed. This is no longer just about Korea or space, or even design—it is about the ongoing negotiation between memory and futurism, between what we were and what we are becoming.
So let us raise a glass, heavy or weightless. Let us drink not to escape the world, but to remember it—whether from Earth, or from the quiet windows of a ship hurtling among the stars.
To damgeumju. To CYLO.
To tradition—not forgotten, but launched.
