China’s luxury interlude that never really was

“You should go discover some culture and history. Fashion recently is quite boring.” It’s a bold statement coming from Yushan Li, who co-founded PRONOUNCE with Jun Zhou, as he sits inside his four-story store on Julu Lu in Shanghai, one of the most eclectic retail spaces in the city and anything but boring. A purple maze puts the inner world of the designer duo on display: tailoring with a twist, prints and textiles galore, ceramics, vintage furniture, a stuffed-animal iteration of Li’s dog, Otto, and Labubus to boot. Outside, heightened by the first days of spring, throngs of shoppers move between cafés and experimental scent stores. Global and homegrown brands abound, while small vinyl shops and vintage jewelry stores draw in curious consumers. Personal style ranges from refined to avant-garde, with enough Maison Margiela Tabis to rival Brooklyn, in step with the brand’s debut Shanghai show. This ecosystem reflects Li’s playful critique of fashion and a widespread sentiment among Chinese consumers: what brands serve up is no longer accepted at face value. Tastes have shifted, expectations are higher, and the rise of Guochao 3.0 is fueling a wave of domestic brands that do it better and fresher than Western counterparts. The state of luxury consumption According to Bain & Company, 65% of Chinese luxury purchases now occur in mainland China, up from roughly one-third before the Covid-19 pandemic, when overseas buying dominated. As noted in Jing Daily’s recent presentation for China Duty Free, it’s a clear signal of luxury’s reset in China. Throughout Shanghai Fashion Week, I heard variations of the same narrative amid concerns over China’s economy. Much has been made of China’s January to February consumption data, reported as the slowest start to the year outside of the pandemic. Although overall retail sales grew only 2.8% YoY, a closer look tells a more nuanced story: gold, silver, and jewelry rose 13%; services retail (including travel) 5.6%; clothing and textiles 10.4%; and furniture 8.8%. Globally, both within the fashion industry and wider macroeconomic reporting, there is a desire to stamp China as either a goldmine or a bust, as if it could be that simple. On the ground, however, a committed fashion industry understands the reality is more nuanced, acknowledging the challenges while remaining determined to find luxury’s prevailing place within it. The luxury push and pull “The younger generation has a completely different experience than we did. We didn’t grow up with phones or the level of current exposure to luxury — it was all very new and exciting,” reflected a longtime head of public relations for a leading French luxury brand. Indeed, Gen Z consumers have come a long way to subvert traditional luxury norms, shaped by counterculture and digital-native habits on platforms like Douyin and Xiaohongshu. Millennials and Gen X have also evolved, and while part of the cohort will always love a logo, others are not as obsessed with signaling wealth as quiet luxury prevails. As a result, consumers across generations are no longer so quick to accept luxury’s value proposition. As is the case globally, digitization and fragmented channels make it harder for brands to control a single message. Consumer feedback is immediate, and influence is spread across an expanding mix of KOLs and celebrities. This dynamic is especially pronounced in China. The pre-2020 era, when luxury consumption was largely shaped by Western brands, is over. Covid-19 opened the door to a new order where Chinese consumption is in conversation with but no longer solely defined by a Western narrative. During Chinese New Year, the Van Cleef and Alhambra duty-free frenzy revealed this push and pull. A globally iconic piece laid the foundation for desire, but approval ultimately played out on Chinese social media. There, discourse can validate or challenge value, introduce new symbolism, and, combined with price arbitrage and travel-driven spending, fuel a full-blown frenzy. Perhaps the clearest example of this shifting balance was a group-buying incident in which consumers purchased a Tiffany & Co. necklace together and then split it so each owned a piece. The paradox is telling: the desire for global luxury brands remains strong, even as their core proposition, exclusivity and experience, is increasingly rejected. Chinese consumers are resolving this tension by taking control, deciding for themselves how to participate in luxury. Red pill or blue pill? Brands pick a path Many experts share the view that brands must signal their continued commitment to Chinese consumers. Louis Vuitton’s resurrected megaship “The Louis” at Taikoo Plaza stands as a bastion of that commitment. “We can’t all pull off The Louis,” one executive at a rival brand said, “though we’d like to.” In reality, only one brand can, and did, pull it off. The ship has become a sightseeing attraction, and beyond that, a symbol of hope for luxury. That doesn’t mean other brands aren’t developing their own approaches. This week, Kering announced the 10 fellows of its inaugural CRAFT residency, giving Chinese fashion and jewelry designers access resources and mentorship. Saint Laurent is also making a notable push to build a world that extends into culture. Its newly opened Rive Droite store in Beijing’s Sanlitun, the concept’s first location in Asia, operates as a mixed-concept space that blends art, culture, and luxury. On a visit to the store, I was struck by the merchandising, particularly in the men’s collection, which leaned into bolder pieces (suits of every color), including a best selling satin pink trench coat made viral by pop star Xiao Zhan. The excitement extends beyond Shanghai and Beijing, as KOL Mark Long told me, who had just returned from Balenciaga’s new store opening in Guangzhou, reportedly one of the brand’s most successful locations in the market. “What stood out to me most was how the brand approached localization. Instead of being overly obvious, they subtly wove in Guangzhou’s food culture in a way that felt natural and intelligent,” says Long. Elsewhere on the Shanghai Fashion Week calendar, Mark Gong — one of the season’s most hyped shows — put a flirtatious, edgy, high-powered Shanghai on display. Susan Fang, meanwhile, returned with her ethereal, feminine world after a few years showing only in London. Her husband and creative partner, Orelio De Jonghe, told me the timing “felt right” for her return. Fang’s fortune teller, apparently, agreed. This attraction seemed to be cosmic, with global heavyweights also lining the streets, from Simon Porte Jacquemus and Carine Roitfield. “What are they doing here?” was asked again and again. In another strategic move, the French Menswear Federation hosted a showroom featuring four designers, including Egonlab and Ludovic de Saint Sernin. The design duo behind Egonlab shared their aspirations to produce a collection tailored to the local market. Perhaps the loudest statement came from OTB’s Maison Margiela, which presented its first runway outside Europe since the house was founded. It also launched the Maison Margiela “folders” project, a 12-day series of exhibitions and immersive activations across four cities. The group’s focus on younger, edgier, creativity-led brands positions it well for growth, aligning with consumers’ shift toward more evolved taste beyond blockbuster names. OTB seems to know this, bringing a spectacle-level show to the city. Shanghai spring, China round two There is, of course, a predicament of the industry’s own making — one that has repeatedly hurt brands. For 15 years, Jing Daily has worked to stay ahead of it: the mistake of viewing China solely as an industry cash cow, rather than as a hub of culture and creativity. “The industry did too much, shoving product after product into the market. Someone has 25 bags in their closet. At some point, they don’t need another,” reflected one industry veteran. The brands best positioned now understand the shift at play. Consumption in China hasn’t disappeared; it has evolved. Consumers are prioritizing travel above fashion, community-driven sports are on the rise, and fashion remains relevant, but only when it connects to a broader cultural ecosystem — in conversation with, but no longer solely defined by, a Western narrative. Consumers are likely to respect brands that stay the course. While executives may waver on how much to invest, the energy at Shanghai Fashion Week made clear the market is moving forward regardless. Undoubtedly, there is an opening: after five years of ups and downs, a new normal is shaking out. Leaders willing to get a bit creative and tap into the ethos of their brand beyond pure product should be excited by the challenge.

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China’s luxury interlude that never really was