When China Starts Looking Inward: A New Generation of Chinese Brands Is Making the West Sit Up, Take Notice—and Learn
A long-form article | Approximately 5-minute read
Firsthand insights from a cross-cultural communicator on the future of Chinese brands, culture, and global expansion
Could the next wave to redefine global aesthetics come from China?
From imitating the West, to emphasizing our Chinese identity, to no longer feeling the need to prove ourselves—
We are gradually moving from looking outward for validation to looking inward for inspiration.
The previous generation of Chinese entrepreneurs focused on answering one question: What can China manufacture?
The new generation is exploring something entirely different:
What can China represent?
“Do young Chinese consumers really not like Western brands anymore?”
In mid-September, I was invited to a dinner with a delegation of French luxury industry professionals visiting China. As a Gen Z speaker, I was there to share my insights into China's consumer market.
This was by far one of the questions I was asked most frequently that evening.
“Don't assume that being a French brand means you're safe. Chinese competitors have become incredibly strong,” one French entrepreneur based in China told me bluntly.
Other entrepreneurs at the table exchanged bitter smiles.
“We're barely surviving in China now. It's only a matter of time before we can no longer hold on.”
These are actual remarks from that evening. I'm not exaggerating.
If someone had said this ten years ago, I would have found it almost unimaginable.
That night, as the only Chinese person at the table, I suddenly realized something: the outside world wants to understand China more than ever before. And as someone who speaks French, I had become an important window into that world for them.
Over the past few years, the pressure and anxiety facing Western brands in China have become increasingly evident.
As a cross-cultural communicator working at the forefront of international exchange, I've personally witnessed a growing trend: more and more international business leaders are coming to China to learn.
Not simply to source suppliers, but to understand Chinese companies' innovation models, business ecosystems, and consumers.
The French delegation was hardly an isolated case.
Just last week, I was interviewed by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC), whose team had come to China specifically to film a documentary on Chinese innovation.
And recently, I've been organizing a business study tour to China for a Brazilian delegation consisting of CEOs and professionals from the branding and marketing industries. They, too, want to see for themselves what is happening in China.
The author being interviewed by CBC, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation
It almost feels as though the tables have quietly turned.
In the past, we went to Europe to learn about branding and to America to study business innovation.
Today, more and more foreign entrepreneurs are coming to China in search of new answers.
What exactly has happened to China, the country long known as the world's factory?
For a long time, China seemed to occupy a rather passive position in the global business system.
It was either an enormous consumer market waiting to be conquered by international brands, or the world's manufacturing hub, efficiently and cheaply producing designs created elsewhere.
Even Chinese culture was often treated as a collection of elements for foreign brands to borrow and repurpose.
In the global branding narrative, China had long possessed formidable manufacturing capabilities, but not the corresponding power to shape the conversation.
In international public discourse, China was also more often the object being defined and discussed than the subject speaking for itself.
China, it seemed, had little voice of its own.
But now, China is beginning, perhaps for the first time on this scale, to seriously tell its own story.
A subtle reversal between subject and object is underway.
If you still see China merely as the world's factory, your understanding may be several decades out of date.
I think there are roughly three levels at which people understand China today.
Level 1: A manufacturing hub. Production capacity, costs, supply chains, the world's factory.
Level 2: A technological innovation hub. Electric vehicles, drones, robotics.
Level 3: Something many people may not yet have realized. A birthplace of new cultural and aesthetic trends.
Yes, we are now talking about culture, taste, and aesthetics.
The very things that, for a long time, have largely been defined by Paris, Milan, London, and New York.
Wait—China? What does China have to do with taste?
Well, that perception may soon need updating.
The Made in China label, which so many people once looked down upon, could very well give rise to a new wave that influences global aesthetics and fashion, much as Japanese fashion once did.
▪️ Europe's Established Fashion Empires Are Already Studying Chinese Brands
Bain's 2025 China Luxury Report used a particularly interesting expression: Chinese domestic brands are evolving from market challengers into market shapers.
The European fashion industry has been among the first to sense this shift.
Last year, one incident attracted considerable attention in the branding world.
Bernard Arnault, the head of LVMH, visited a Chinese jewelry store and an original Chinese handbag brand in Shanghai, leaving with two bags.
The two brands were Laopu Gold and Songmont.
What looked like a simple store visit sent ripples through the industry.
Because symbolically, it represented something of a turning point.
China, which once primarily supplied European luxury houses with manufacturing capabilities, is now producing original design brands that their European counterparts are beginning to study seriously.
Chinese design is finally being taken seriously by the West.
And these are far from the only examples.
More and more Chinese brands are entering the international spotlight: the global Labubu craze driven by Pop Mart, URBAN REVIVO, MASONPRINCE, FENG CHEN WANG, and, of course, PANE, which has recently become so popular that foreign visitors travel to Shanghai specifically to queue for its products.
Seen in a broader context, it feels as though the world is becoming genuinely interested in China as a whole.
The Chinamaxxing phenomenon. The viral Adidas Chinese-style Tang jacket.
And over the past year, I've been creating content in foreign languages on international social media platforms, introducing Chinese culture and society to global audiences.
In just over six months, I attracted more than 500,000 followers worldwide, the vast majority from mainstream audiences in Europe and the Americas, including some influential figures in politics and business.
Meanwhile, Western luxury brands in China are facing an entirely different picture—one of decline.
Over the past two years, it seems that every time I open Chinese news or social media, there's another story about a luxury store closing or a brand's performance deteriorating.
According to Bain, after contracting by 17%–19% in 2024, mainland China's personal luxury goods market declined by another 3%–5% in 2025.
And luxury is not the only sector feeling the pressure.
Nike's revenue in Greater China dropped by 13% in fiscal year 2025.
The coffee industry is an even more interesting example.
Starbucks, which once symbolized an upscale lifestyle in China, is now struggling against domestic competitors such as Luckin Coffee and Cotti Coffee.
China, once seen primarily as the ultimate sales destination for international brands, is producing more and more of its own competitors.
And these competitors are beginning to challenge Western brands in precisely the areas they have traditionally prided themselves on most:
Aesthetics and brand value.
Simply being a foreign brand no longer automatically makes a product more prestigious or desirable.
One of China's hottest consumer trends in recent years has been dapai pingti (大牌平替)—more affordable alternatives to big-name brands.
More and more Chinese consumers are turning to domestic products that offer better value for money.
Ten years ago, using domestic products could sometimes be seen as somewhat embarrassing. Carrying Western luxury brands was almost the socially approved thing to do. It gave you status.
A decade later, buying Chinese brands has become fashionable in its own right.
But is this really just because domestic products are cheaper?
▪️ What's Different About the New Generation of Chinese Brands?
When I look at brands such as Songmont, To Summer, PANE, and SHUSHU/TONG, I notice certain qualities they share, despite operating in different categories.
For now, I would summarize them in four words:
Aesthetics. Emotion. Attitude. And local cultural expression.
First, aesthetics.
In the past, many Chinese brands focused primarily on delivering decent quality, low prices, and high production efficiency.
As for design and aesthetics, they were often little more than an afterthought.
But this new generation of brands is developing its own distinctive design language.
Songmont draws on the rich aesthetic traditions of China's Central Plains, while PANE takes inspiration from retro sports culture to create its own approach to footwear design.
Second, emotion.
Emotion is increasingly becoming a way for brands to establish their identity and build connections with consumers.
To Summer is a particularly good example.
It sells fragrances, but its storytelling goes far beyond top, middle, and base notes.
Instead, the brand builds an entire sensory world around the seasons, hometowns, memories, and Eastern ways of living.
Consumers are not simply buying a bottle of perfume.
They may be buying a memory, a particular state of mind, or an imagined way of life.
Then there's attitude.
MARKGONG's provocative sensuality and humor, and SHUSHU/TONG's reinterpretation of traditional femininity, are making these brands about more than beautiful clothes.
They express distinctive personalities.
And finally, a renewed embrace of local culture.
Previously, many Chinese brands were almost afraid of being recognized as Chinese. They went to great lengths to look European, American, or Japanese.
Today, more brands are embracing their Chinese identity and Chinese aesthetics.
Laopu Gold, To Summer, and Songmont are representative examples, alongside countless niche brands drawing on China's intangible cultural heritage.
So what happened?
How did this new generation of Chinese brands suddenly figure it out?
▪️ A New Era Has Shaped a New Generation of Entrepreneurs
The generational differences in China are enormous—arguably even greater than those in the West.
This is something international observers absolutely need to understand when looking at Chinese society.
I think Chinese entrepreneurs can be roughly divided into two typical profiles.
The previous generation: manufacturing-oriented entrepreneurs.
Many of them came of age during China's reform and opening-up, industrialization, and the expansion of global trade.
At a time when supply was relatively scarce and consumer demand was growing rapidly, simply being able to manufacture products, control costs, and establish distribution channels already gave a company a considerable competitive advantage.
These entrepreneurs were hardworking, resilient, pragmatic, and exceptionally alert to business opportunities.
Production capacity, efficiency, cost, and scale were the priorities.
Some even looked down on things like brand personality and storytelling, dismissing them as superficial, impractical concepts.
In a culture deeply influenced by Confucian pragmatism and the emphasis on putting knowledge into practical use, usefulness often took precedence over everything else.
As a result, branding was rarely treated as a major priority.
This also helps explain why older-generation Chinese brands were often perceived overseas as lacking sophistication and strong design sensibilities.
That was an era dominated by factory thinking.
China's first challenge was simply to move from having very little to having something at all.
But today's young entrepreneurs face an entirely different world.
China is a society of extraordinary time-space compression.
The more countries I visit, the more strongly I feel this.
Joining the WTO, mass urbanization, the internet, smartphones, mobile payments, e-commerce, the platform economy, and now artificial intelligence...
In just a few decades, transformations in industries and lifestyles that elsewhere unfolded across different periods have been compressed and layered on top of one another.
The speed of this transformation is extraordinary even by global standards.
Ironically, people living through it in China often take it for granted.
Many new-generation entrepreneurs grew up in an era of increasingly abundant products, widespread internet access, globalization, and increasingly differentiated consumer markets.
Unlike their predecessors, their main challenge is no longer figuring out what the market lacks.
It is answering a much more difficult question:
In a market where consumers already have almost everything, why should they choose me?
So how do we understand this new generation of entrepreneurs?
I would identify four defining characteristics.
Individualism: Developing Their Own Aesthetic Identity
Compared with our parents' generation, young Chinese people today tend to have a more rebellious streak.
We care more about personal development and our own needs.
The older generation often repeated a familiar Chinese saying: “The bird that sticks its head out gets shot.”
Standing out was risky. Conformity felt safer.
It was as though being the same as everyone else offered a certain sense of security.
You could see this mentality in some brands, and even in the design of streets and buildings in Chinese cities.
People would sometimes rather choose something conventionally ugly than risk being different.
And branding, by its very nature, is about individuality and differentiation.
Yet many businesses in the past did not pay much attention to it, preferring to imitate business models that had already been proven successful.
Today's younger generation, however, increasingly believes that life is an open wilderness, not a predetermined track.
We are less willing to follow fixed life templates: getting married, having children, securing a government job, and following all the traditional milestones of adulthood.
This shift in values is now finding its way into brand creation.
In a society with increasingly diverse values, these young entrepreneurs do not necessarily seek everyone's approval.
Some even embrace highly niche, personal aesthetics.
Rather than constantly adapting to mainstream tastes, they are becoming more willing to stand by their own creative vision.
Taking Emotions Seriously: Turning Feelings Into Business
In Chinese culture, deeply shaped by Confucian traditions, people have long been encouraged to restrain their emotions.
The ability to remain composed, without displaying joy or anger too openly, has often been regarded as a sign of refinement.
Many of us were taught from childhood not to be overly emotional.
Emotions were something to manage, rather than something valuable in their own right and worthy of expression.
But this generation of brand founders is increasingly pouring its own thoughts and feelings into what it creates.
Memory, loneliness, healing, rebellion, female consciousness, personal growth...
Themes that once had little place in the logic of factory-based businesses are now finding their way into product design and brand storytelling.
I even noticed something fascinating at a technology and innovation conference in Shanghai last month.
One startup was developing technology products focused on pets' emotional well-being.
Pets' emotions!
And the founder was born after 2005!
In the world where the previous generation of entrepreneurs grew up, I suspect this would hardly have been considered a serious business proposition.
Cultural Confidence: From Looking Outward to Looking Inward
One of the most important developments in China over the past few years has been the rise of cultural confidence.
In the past, we tended to look outward for validation.
I remember that ten years ago, almost nobody in China dared to question Western superiority.
We assumed that Western standards were the standards.
But today, the trend has almost completely reversed.
Increasing numbers of Chinese people believe that China has already surpassed the West, and that China is now the world's leading power.
This sense of national confidence became particularly pronounced following the explosive emergence of DeepSeek a few years ago.
Because I work actively on Chinese social media, I've observed this shift firsthand.
When I share Western culture on Chinese platforms, I sometimes receive a surprising amount of personal criticism.
People ask things like:
“The West has declined this badly, and you're still praising it? What exactly are you up to?”
So my daily life looks something like this:
When I share Chinese culture on international platforms, people accuse me of being paid by the Chinese government.
When I share Western culture on Chinese platforms, people accuse me of being paid by Western governments.
Double agent!
Being a two-way cross-cultural communicator really does leave me not knowing whether to laugh or cry sometimes...
Anyway, back to cultural confidence.
We can observe a fascinating evolution in how Chinese consumer brands relate to their cultural identity.
A little over a decade ago, domestic products were often associated with cheapness and low quality.
Consumers were obsessed with European and American brands.
Even Chinese brands themselves seemed a little embarrassed by their Chinese identity, constantly trying to appear more foreign.
But now, a new generation is increasingly turning inward.
More and more people are realizing something:
Perhaps the most meaningful cultural identity we possess comes from within ourselves.
Over the past few years, China has experienced several waves of renewed interest in Chinese aesthetics—from Guochao, the rise of Chinese-inspired trends, to New Chinese Style.
Brands have begun rediscovering local cultural traditions.
But in the early stages, many were trying a little too hard to prove how Chinese they were.
Their expression often remained confined to surface-level visual elements: dragons, phoenixes, auspicious clouds, Chinese characters—all piled together as if the more Chinese symbols they used, the more culturally authentic the brand would become.
Today, however, we seem to be entering a more relaxed and sophisticated stage.
Brands are beginning to draw inspiration from the deeper imagery and philosophy of Eastern aesthetics.
To Summer incorporates Eastern culture into fragrances, memory, and lifestyle.
Songmont draws design inspiration from Chinese architecture, craftsmanship, and the founder's own life experiences.
Rather than merely reproducing cultural symbols, these brands are reinterpreting local traditions through a more mature, contemporary design language.
There is another misconception I think foreign entrepreneurs need to correct:
China has never lacked sophisticated aesthetic traditions.
If your understanding of Chinese aesthetics begins and ends with red-and-yellow lanterns, dragons, and phoenixes, then you have barely scratched the surface of what this cultural tradition has to offer.
Chinese aesthetics form a foundational source of East Asian aesthetics.
They have profoundly influenced the artistic traditions of Japan and Korea, from architecture and painting to calligraphy, objects, and ways of living.
Japanese and Korean aesthetics have, in turn, influenced Western aesthetic sensibilities.
At its deepest level, Chinese aesthetics are rooted in Eastern philosophical ideas.
Emptiness. Negative space. Qi and the resonance of life. Harmony between humanity and nature.
The relationship between the self and the world, between human beings and everything in nature.
Chinese aesthetics are, in essence, a form of philosophy.
But this is an immense intellectual and cultural system, far too extensive to unpack here.
At the same time, another group of brands is no longer particularly concerned with showcasing Chinese culture at all.
They draw on international popular culture, women's consciousness, and individual aesthetics to develop their own distinctive design languages.
From imitating the West, to emphasizing China, to no longer feeling the need to prove ourselves.
This is a more natural form of cultural confidence.
Global Outlook and Ambition: From Competing Within the Rules to Trying to Define Them
Another defining feature of this generation of entrepreneurs is that their upbringing has been far more globalized.
Compared with their parents, many young founders around me have studied or worked overseas.
They have grown up immersed in global popular culture through the internet and often have stronger foreign-language skills.
They are familiar with European and American culture, Japanese and Korean trends, and the ways international brands establish aesthetic and cultural value.
To them, Europe and America are no longer distant places to admire from below.
Increasing numbers of entrepreneurs are no longer satisfied with being excellent suppliers or creating Chinese versions of foreign brands.
Wang Ning, the founder of Pop Mart, wants to build “the world's Pop Mart,” not “China's Disney.”
Wang Xingxing, the founder of Unitree Robotics, has expressed his ambition to bring robots into real human production and everyday life—and perhaps even leave his name in the history of technology.
These entrepreneurs are not simply creating new products.
They are beginning to create new cultural content, new aesthetic narratives, and original intellectual properties.
One Chinese magazine I particularly admire is Shang Cheng Shi (《上城士》).
To me, it's a breath of fresh air in the magazine industry.
Its founder, Lun Sibo, was born in the 1990s, has lived in Australia, and studied in New York.
I've watched quite a few of his interviews.
He's wonderfully spontaneous, interesting, and approachable—a very typical example of this new generation of Chinese entrepreneurs.
He once said:
“I hope this magazine will gain recognition from the global fashion industry.”
The magazine's philosophy is:
“Rooted in the East, reaching the world.”
Through the medium of a magazine, it brings together intangible cultural heritage, Eastern aesthetics, and contemporary communication.
Most of the fashion media we're familiar with have traditionally revolved around European and American brands, international runway shows, and Western aesthetic standards.
But Shang Cheng Shi turns its lens toward China's own intangible cultural heritage, traditional craftsmanship, and regional cultures, presenting Chinese aesthetics in a completely different light.
What I find even more interesting is the way Chinese celebrities appear in its photographs.
These are people who are used to posing for edgy, Western-style luxury fashion magazines.
Yet in Shang Cheng Shi, they seem extraordinarily relaxed and at ease, blending almost effortlessly into the people and surroundings around them.
Every photograph has this beautifully natural sense of harmony.
How should I put it?
Perhaps Eastern artistic sensibility is a kind of fashion that feels more at home in its own cultural soil.
I really like that.
I'm genuinely happy to see that, even in such an impatient era, there are still people willing to slow down and devote themselves to creating meaningful content.
And I sincerely hope that, despite the current economic downturn, the magazine will continue to grow and flourish.
This is the fashion of the next era.
In the past, we mostly tried to catch up within rules established by others.
Now, we're beginning to propose rules of our own.
▪️ Could the Next Wave to Redefine Global Aesthetics Come From China?
Some time ago, while discussing Chinese brands' international expansion with friends, someone confidently declared:
“Shanghai is about to replace Milan and Paris as the next global fashion capital!”
My immediate reaction was:
Come on, aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?
Even today, I don't entirely agree with that claim.
After all, the cultural capital accumulated by established fashion capitals has taken centuries to build.
But I do find myself somewhat more convinced than before.
Or, more precisely, Shanghai may not replace Paris or Milan, but the global fashion landscape will become increasingly multipolar.
And this is already being seriously discussed within the international fashion industry.
A few days ago, I came across an article in American Vogue exploring whether Shanghai could become the world's fifth major fashion capital, joining Paris, Milan, London, and New York.
The article suggested that Shanghai is developing its own distinctive ecosystem of original design and fashion—one that deserves serious attention from the international industry.
Looking back at modern fashion history, we can observe something fascinating.
The world's centers of culture and aesthetics have never been fixed.
Since the 19th century, Paris has long held enormous influence over the world of haute couture.
But in the 20th century, the United States gradually developed its own fashion influence, supported by its enormous consumer market, industrialized ready-to-wear system, Hollywood, and popular culture.
American fashion did not simply follow the logic of Parisian haute couture.
Instead, it brought sportswear, denim, and casual clothing—styles more closely connected to everyday life—onto the global stage.
Then came Japan.
In the 1980s, Japanese designers such as Rei Kawakubo and Yohji Yamamoto entered Paris.
At the time, mainstream European fashion emphasized elegance, fitted silhouettes, and the curves of the female body.
Japanese designers, however, introduced black, oversized shapes, asymmetry, deconstruction, and even garments that appeared deliberately unfinished.
Their work was initially highly controversial.
Yet it went on to profoundly influence avant-garde fashion worldwide.
They did not try to prove that they could make clothes the French would like. They directly challenged Europe's existing definition of beauty.
In the 1990s, British designers such as John Galliano and Alexander McQueen brought London's youth subcultures, historical storytelling, and rebellious spirit into established French haute couture houses.
And here's what I find particularly interesting.
The rise of a new cultural force does not necessarily require the approval of the old establishment.
When a society develops sufficient creative capacity, consumer demand, and cultural influence, the existing aesthetic order can begin to change.
This is a consequence of broader social and industrial evolution, not something that established cultural centers can simply decide to allow or prevent.
Of course, these movements were not created out of thin air by a handful of brilliant designers.
Behind American fashion stood mass consumption, industrialization, and the entertainment industry.
Behind Japanese fashion stood economic development, textile technology, and design education.
Behind British fashion stood youth subcultures, art schools, and mature creative communities.
Behind cultural influence lies an entire social ecosystem.
And today, China is beginning to possess similar conditions:
A vast domestic consumer market, mature manufacturing capabilities and supply chains, a rapidly developing digital commerce ecosystem, and an increasingly rich pool of artistic education, internationally minded talent, and cultural capital.
I feel this particularly strongly since my recent move to Shanghai's Jing'an District, near the Julu Road–Fumin Road–Changle Road area.
It's arguably one of the most fashion-forward neighborhoods in Shanghai, if not all of China.
The moment I step outside, I'm surrounded by brand showcases, exhibitions, and creative spaces.
Every day, I get to observe this commercial ecosystem and the consumption culture of younger generations up close.
This is also where LABELHOOD grew in Shanghai.
LABELHOOD is one of China's most influential platforms for avant-garde fashion and emerging original designers, often described as a cradle for China's new generation of designers.
It began as a multi-brand boutique on Fumin Road.
Over time, it evolved into a platform connecting emerging designers, buyers, retailers, consumers, and international industry resources.
LABELHOOD is a particularly representative example of how China is developing a commercial and cultural ecosystem in which original design can continue to grow.
And compared with Japan and Britain in their earlier periods of fashion emergence, China has another distinctive advantage:
Its mature manufacturing system is exceptionally closely integrated with its digital consumer market.
Even highly niche aesthetics can quickly find their own audiences, while creative ideas can be transformed into actual products and businesses more easily.
But China also has its limitations.
Our business culture has been deeply influenced by an internet-driven mentality, with its emphasis on data analysis, performance reviews, efficiency, traffic, and scale.
We have become extraordinarily good at optimizing efficiency and creating viral products.
We are also often far too eager to see immediate results, expecting every business initiative to deliver measurable conversions.
Sometimes, this is the very enemy of building a strong brand.
Because lasting cultural influence usually requires long-term accumulation, repeated experimentation, and a willingness to tolerate creativity whose value cannot yet be demonstrated by data.
Japanese designers did not change fashion history simply because they sold well in Paris one particular year.
They changed it because, decades later, their aesthetic language continues to influence creators around the world.
Speed and efficiency have helped create China's extraordinary development story over the past few decades.
But today, in an era when building brand value requires long-term thinking, and economic pressures are mounting, a very practical question emerges:
How many entrepreneurs can break free from the inertia of the past and commit to building something that lasts?
There is another important distinction.
A country capable of producing world-class products is not necessarily capable of defining world-class taste.
This brings me to the concept of cultural capital, introduced by the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu.
Aesthetics have never been simply a matter of whether an individual thinks something looks beautiful.
What is considered sophisticated, what deserves to be collected, and what eventually becomes a classic are all shaped by an entire system of cultural evaluation.
Paris did not become Paris simply because it had excellent designers.
It also built fashion houses, art schools, media institutions, museums, professional buyers, and a cultural reputation accumulated over more than a century.
Paris does not merely create aesthetics.
It also possesses the power to define what counts as good taste.
China has never lacked cultural resources.
But for Chinese aesthetics to gain lasting global influence, the country still needs institutions and networks capable of nurturing talent, accumulating cultural prestige, and influencing international standards of evaluation.
China has already become very good at transforming creative ideas into products.
Perhaps the next challenge is to transform original creative work into cultural capital, and then transform that cultural capital into the power to shape global aesthetic standards.
China has a traditional solar term called Jingzhe (惊蛰), or the Awakening of Insects.
The first spring thunder sounds, and life that has lain dormant throughout the winter begins to awaken.
But life does not suddenly begin growing at the moment the thunder arrives.
Beneath the soil, invisible roots have already been quietly spreading.
I believe China's original cultural and design brands are now in a similar season.
Designers, artists, and young entrepreneurs who have not yet attracted the world's attention are quietly gathering strength in their own corners.
To me, Chinese society is in that period of dormancy and preparation, waiting for the first sound of spring thunder.
And international observers would do well to recognize these emerging cultural trends before they become the next global phenomenon.
Paris was not always Paris.
New York was not always New York.
The formation of a global cultural center has always been a long process of historical evolution.
▪️ For International Brands, China Can No Longer Be Just a Sales Market
The days when a brand could rest comfortably on its foreign identity are truly over.
Chinese society is undergoing an unprecedented period of self-examination.
Consumer tastes are becoming more sophisticated, expectations are rising, and demands are becoming increasingly differentiated.
At the same time, consumers expect greater speed and more frequent innovation.
As a Gucci executive put it, Western brands can no longer treat China merely as a market into which they can dump their products.
Across industries, your strongest competitor in the future may very well come from China.
First, international brands need to rethink how they understand competitors and consumers.
Study domestic Chinese brands.
Understand what new consumer psychology they have managed to capture.
Explore how China's digital infrastructure and technological innovation are profoundly reshaping brands and consumer behavior.
Pay attention to how contemporary Chinese consumers understand their own cultural identities.
But consumer research also needs to become far more granular.
Today, it is increasingly difficult to explain the entire market through a broad category such as “young Chinese consumers.”
Even among people in their twenties, preferences can vary enormously.
Some pursue international luxury brands.
Others prefer independent designers.
Some are enthusiastic about affordable alternatives to luxury products, while others are willing to pay a premium for an original product with cultural meaning.
The differences among them are much greater than many international brand headquarters imagine.
Second, brands need to genuinely understand Chinese culture rather than treating it as a source of marketing materials.
And that begins with respect.
It means truly seeing and acknowledging China.
Western brands need to become increasingly cautious about cultural appropriation.
In recent years, two major Western brands have sparked widespread anger among Chinese consumers over controversies involving cultural appropriation: Dior's mamianqun incident and the LV logo controversy.
These incidents have also come at a considerable cost.
In July, Louis Vuitton successfully sued the Chinese beverage brand Molly Tea.
However, the controversy was followed by a serious decline in the brand's performance in the Chinese market during July and August.
According to estimates, LV's sales in China fell by approximately 30% in July 2026 and 20%–25% in August.
LVMH's finance chief also acknowledged that, although the exact impact was difficult to quantify, the incident had indeed had negative consequences.
Chinese consumers' awareness of cultural protection and patriotic sentiment is growing stronger.
Winning a legal battle does not necessarily mean winning consumers' hearts.
If brands continue to underestimate the importance of this, the price they pay in the future may be even higher.
International brands also need to stop relying on their own imagination of what Chinese culture looks like.
Chinese characters, the color red, and traditional festivals can certainly be used in marketing.
But if localization never moves beyond visual symbols, the result can easily become an imagined China constructed by a brand's overseas headquarters.
A modern-day version of 18th-century Orientalism.
And that is unlikely to resonate deeply with Chinese consumers.
Over the years, countless luxury brands have created questionable designs and campaigns based on misunderstandings of Chinese culture, leaving local audiences confused, irritated, or outright offended.
China's social media ecosystem is largely separated from international platforms.
This can prevent European and American headquarters from receiving direct, comprehensive feedback from Chinese consumers.
But just because you don't hear the criticism doesn't mean it doesn't matter.
Consider a few examples.
Burberry's 2019 Chinese New Year campaign
The campaign centered on the theme of family reunion.
Yet rather than conveying warmth or sophistication, its atmosphere struck many Chinese viewers as unusually severe and unsettling.
Some Chinese netizens even compared it to a horror film.
No amount of red could rescue the uncomfortable visual storytelling.
Dolce & Gabbana's 2018 “Eating with Chopsticks” campaign
The advertisements provoked enormous backlash.
The model's exaggerated eye styling and jokes that many Chinese viewers simply did not find funny became major points of criticism.
The brand seemed to believe it was humorously portraying cultural differences.
Chinese audiences, however, felt that they themselves had become the object of ridicule.
Lemaire's 2026 fragrance campaign
The combination of a long braid, traditional gown, and scissors reminded many Chinese viewers of the queue hairstyle of the late Qing dynasty and the painful history of China's national humiliation in modern times.
What the brand may have regarded as artistic styling touched a deep layer of Chinese collective historical memory, provoking strong negative reactions.
These examples do not necessarily mean that the brands intended to cause offense.
But the consequences of unintentionally getting things wrong can be just as serious.
Many international brands know exactly how much purchasing power Chinese consumers have. Yet they may know surprisingly little about their historical memories and cultural aesthetics.
Every country and region has different sensitivities and priorities.
In Western societies, racial discrimination and religious offense are particularly sensitive issues.
In China, territorial integrity, national dignity, patriotism, and historical trauma are among the most sensitive subjects.
Third, China should become a place where innovation actually happens.
International brands could consider establishing product development and creative teams in China with greater autonomy.
Local consumer insights should genuinely influence research and development, product design, and creative decisions.
Local teams need more decision-making authority, rather than having to wait for approval from European headquarters on virtually everything.
Finally, China can become a partner, not just a market.
The global expansion of Chinese brands is also creating new opportunities for international companies.
From local distribution channels and marketing communications to broader commercial resources, Chinese companies entering overseas markets also need local partners.
What I find even more interesting are the opportunities in cultural and creative collaboration.
As Chinese original design and cultural influence gradually expand internationally, foreign brands could take the initiative to collaborate with Chinese artists, designers, and emerging brands.
Together, they could introduce new aesthetic ideas and creative expressions to consumers worldwide.
In fact, this is precisely why the Brazilian business delegation I'm currently hosting is coming to China—to understand emerging trends in consumption and aesthetics!
In the past, international companies mainly asked themselves how they could bring their brands into China.
Today, they should also be asking:
How can we participate in the process of bringing Chinese brands and culture to the world?
In just a few decades, China has undergone a transformation from scarcity to abundance, from catching up to creating.
The material world has changed so rapidly that people's mindsets, aesthetic sensibilities, and even our understanding of ourselves are still trying to catch up.
And the world's understanding of China may be lagging even further behind.
A new trend emerging in China might take six months to reach Europe or America.
But in those same six months, the Chinese market could already have gone through several rounds of iteration.
By the time the outside world finally notices a particular change, it may already have become part of everyday life here.
I'm still trying to understand China myself.
Perhaps it isn't only foreigners who need to adapt to these changes.
We Chinese, too, have spent so long understanding ourselves through manufacturing, efficiency, and growth that we may need to rethink how we see our own country.
China's position in the global economic, technological, and cultural landscape is quietly changing.
Yet the ways many of us understand ourselves, the West, and the wider world have not fully caught up with that transformation.
What will China's future look like?
Pay more attention to the next generation.
As someone belonging to this generation, I am both an observer and a participant in these changes.
I hope to continue documenting and interpreting them, helping the world see a China that is not defined solely by economic statistics, factories, and technological achievements.
I also want the world to see the people who live here.
Their desires, their confusion, their creativity, and their imagination.
In a previous interview with People's Daily, I expressed a certain sense of regret.
China has undeniably become very powerful.
But it sometimes feels as though we are still trying to impress the world primarily through our hard power—our speed, efficiency, and technological and industrial capabilities.
We have not yet fully learned how to move the world through the quieter, more subtle power of culture.
There is still a long way to go before Chinese culture becomes globally popular on a lasting scale, and before China's original cultural brands establish enduring influence over global aesthetics.
But I am increasingly convinced that day is not too far away.
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🙌 About the Author | LEA HUANG
Lea Huang is the founder of Between East and West, a cross-cultural communication consultant, TEDx speaker, and one of the emerging Chinese Gen Z voices with a substantial global audience, reaching over 500,000 followers worldwide.
Her work focuses on brand globalization and bringing Chinese culture to international audiences.
A quadrilingual speaker of Chinese, English, French, and Spanish, Lea has traveled across five continents and nearly 30 countries.
Through her international social media platforms, she interprets contemporary China for global audiences in English, French, and Spanish.
She has been featured in People's Daily Overseas Edition and interviewed by the BBC, Radio France, and CBC Canada.
She has also delivered a dedicated keynote for the Argentine Embassy and government officials.
Her professional experience includes collaborations with international luxury houses such as Hermès, Dior, and Louis Vuitton, as well as interpreting for the global CEO of Hermès, a West African president, and diplomats from multiple countries.
In 2026, Lea led the end-to-end planning and management of several Shanghai government-initiated international talent programs, including the Go Global Talent Program and the International Communication Program.
She also served as a mentor, helping advance Chinese cultural globalization and international youth exchange.
👏 If You're Looking For:
A cross-cultural communication consultant who genuinely understands the differences between Chinese and international audiences
A young Chinese content creator combining professional expertise with global influence
A cross-cultural speaker who can bring an authentic Chinese Gen Z perspective to international conversations
An international project lead capable of turning ideas into fully executed projects
An English- and French-speaking MC and interpreter experienced in diplomacy, luxury, and international business
I'd love to connect and explore how we can create projects that truly bridge cultures.
Lea Huang | Between East and West