Maximalism returns: Why China is dressing against the times

When Khloe Liu went to dinner at Rosewood with a friend, she opted for a black Diane von Furstenberg set with white polka dots and red roses, paired with 10cm platform heels to match the mood. But her friend dismissed her as pretentious. According to him, dressing up for dinner at an upscale restaurant is low-class. Real “old money,” he said, “wouldn’t mind showing up in slippers,” the 38-year-old professional recalls. That was in Beijing, around two years ago, when effortless chic was de rigueur. Through her 20s, Liu’s wardrobe was lined with gleaming jewelry and watches, mini dresses, draped cashmere coats, high heels no lower than 8cm, and full-grain leather bags. Now, all of that has been replaced by oversized knits, flats, and a cotton tote bag. Since the 2008 global financial crisis, minimalism has steadily replaced an era of glamour and glitz, taking root across both high fashion and daily wear. In China, this pared-down aesthetic found fertile ground, with “quiet luxury” peaking in the early 2020s — fueled in part by the sleek, understated wardrobes featured in the HBO hit Succession. It wasn’t until this summer that maximalism regained traction. The “economic boom beauty” (经济上行的美) aesthetic has taken Chinese social media by storm, sparking a wave of nostalgia among a generation raised on its original glamor. The “economic boom” refers to the period between 1990 and 2005, when fashion in China was all about vibrant colors, bold maximalism, and exuberant styles. A Y2K revival Think of smokey eyes, glassy jelly lips, voluminous curls, bright camisoles, frayed low-rise denim shorts belted by metallic discs, all topped off with a slouchy It-bag. Or a curve-hugging lace dress with intricate Chinese embroidery, grounded by kitten-heel slingbacks. The early 2000s exuded an unapologetic vitality — sequins, patent leather, candy hues, and neon tones were everywhere. These elements formed the aesthetic core of Y2K, shorthanded for “the year 2000,” and its glammed-up offshoot “McBling.” After years of dormancy, the aesthetic is having a moment. On Xiaohongshu (also known as RedNote), posts tagged with “economic boom beauty” have garnered over 37 million views, while those under “millennium fashion” (#千禧年穿搭) have surpassed 91 million. On Douyin, videos tagged “interpreting economic boom beauty through fashion” (#用穿搭演绎经济上行的美) have racked up 120 million views. Many users are sharing photos of celebrities from that era, including Hong Kong actress Faye Wong’s Bantu knots, Chinese actress Zhang Ziyi's Maybelline commercial, and Japanese actor Takeshi Kaneshiro's fusion vintage style. Some post-1980s users are also uploading pictures from their 20s, evoking a time when personal style was free, bold, and individual. At the same time, influencers like @realmilesmoretti are bringing traditional Chinese maximalism into the trend by styling red tailored suits adorned with peonies and chrysanthemums, paired with sunglasses, boots and even a crisp Panama hat. Dressing against the times Maximalism’s revival seems to fall out of sync with the cyclical patterns of fashion history, as epitomized by the Hemline Index. Proposed by economist George Taylor in 1926, this theory suggests that people dress up in times of economic booms and scale back during downturns. The flapper fashion in the Roaring Twenties came to a screeching halt with the Wall Street crash of 1929 and the subsequent Great Depression. Women lengthened their skirts with cheap fabrics such as nylon and rayon. Similarly, the World War II leanness gave way to overt opulence in the post-war years of economic rebuilding. Dior's voluminous, ultra-feminine New Look in 1947 ushered in a lavish revival of haute couture. In the years after 2008, consumers gravitated toward conservative dressing in response to the subdued market. Hemlines fell; neutral tones crept in; Y2K faded into “normcore.” The Hemline Index has largely held true over the years, toggling between restraint during recessions and opulence in times of prosperity. Fashion, after all, dresses the times. Hence, the current return to “economic boom” fashion in China is, in many ways, defying the fashion orthodoxy, as a generation seeks to dress against the times — one of slower growth weighed down by a crumbling property market, high unemployment rates, and deepening social sclerosis. Nostalgia and the millennium zeitgeist What prompted this return to Y2K? “In the Y2K era, people didn't believe in ‘old money’ or the ‘born-rich’ myth. Self-made success stories popped up every day,” writes Xiaohongshu user Observer of Human Behavior on Earth (@驻地球人类行为观察员), adding that she now mostly wears the “old money” style to fit in than out of personal preference. With accelerated market reforms in the early 1990s and its 2001 accession to the World Trade Organization, China experienced unprecedented economic growth. Riding the crest of globalization, its people embraced this new economic reality. The massive boom in real estate, robust foreign trade, and large-scale rural-to-urban migration gave people a chance to climb the social ladder as long as they worked hard enough. During the 2000s, the property market and related sectors contributed 15% to 30% of China’s GDP, while rural migrant workers surged past 100 million. Burgeoning digital technology spawned a generation of dot-com startups that further pushed innovation. Ambitious young people dared to dream — and to dress the part. As optimism rose, Y2K fashion reigned. The era shimmered with a “can't-stop-me-now” attitude, till the bubble burst in 2008. The pandemic a decade later cast an even darker shadow. The official youth unemployment rate in China exceeded 20% before gradually dropping to around 15% in recent months. The rate of NEET (Not in Education, Employment or Training), a cohort aged 16-34 excluded in the official unemployment statistics, is estimated at 16%, with higher rates among women (22.7%) and rural youth (19.1%). Social mobility has largely been static, with a calculated 66% of the population perceiving no change in their social status over the past five years, according to a survey published this June. A 2024 World Bank report reveals that 38.2% of China’s population belongs to the vulnerable middle class, a group at the risk of falling below it at any time due to lack of economic security. Despite recent modest progress, consumer confidence remains lukewarm. “What I miss about how we dressed a decade ago is the hope and optimism that came with it,” says Sugongzi (@苏公子) in a Xiaohongshu post. Clearly, the nostalgia goes beyond fashion — it’s about feeling part of the zeitgeist again. Reconstructing fashion hierarchies Using high-energy, unbridled, maximalist fashion as an emotional antidote against the prolonged economic doldrums marks a relatively new shift in the world of fashion. This hyper-aware and digital culture-driven trend warrants serious attention from the fashion industry. Broadly speaking, the craving for this lifestyle could fall under “emotional consumption.” According to a recent survey by Southern Metropolis Daily, over 80% of respondents said they had made purchases in the past year as an emotional uplift. In this sense, dressing up isn’t just about aesthetics but about reclaiming agency in a new reality. Still, while maximalism is having a moment, minimalism hasn’t bowed out. “Old money” and “clean fit” remain popular. Brunello Cucinelli beat forecasts with a 10.7% YoY revenue surge in H1 2025, bolstered by strong double-digit growth in China. Meanwhile, Valentino and Saint Laurent harked back to maximalist glamor in their Fall/Winter 2025 collections. If anything, this trend could point to the value of brands revisiting their original DNA and reliving it with a modern sensibility. Since leaner shapes and minimal ornamentation dominated Gucci’s and Versace’s 2008-2009 collections, luxury runways have settled into a practical, restrained energy. Everything has been less — a way to play it safe. Modern fashion isn’t linear; it’s about traditional hierarchies collapsing and being rebuilt. For the Chinese generation raised on the promise of a new era, slipping into a breezy floral dress brings back the energy of the millennium zeitgeist. To them, Y2K fashion feels like a hundred flowers blooming, where self-expression isn't constrained by economic sentiments or trend cycles. As Liu puts it, “It’s about a time when we had autonomy and no one judged it.”

Sectors

Insights

Company

Why China is dressing against the times