Forget logos, young people in China want ‘spiritual’ luxury
Forget logos, young people in China want ‘spiritual’ luxury
Zirui Yang has been obsessed with shopping since junior high. “Clothes, shoes and accessories — and they always had to be branded,” said the 22-year-old student. “It started with Nike and Adidas, then moved on to Gucci and Balenciaga.”
But since starting college in 2022, his retail therapy has been less about big brands and more about purchases with “emotional value, like small accessories, plush toys, fragrances and travel,” said Yang, who lives in Nanjing, eastern China. “I like ritual, novelty and things that have a unique identity.”
So much for the logo-mania that, for years, defined China’s Gen Z and millennial shoppers. Yet, against a backdrop of job insecurity and sluggish post-Covid economic recovery, the country’s new luxury shoppers are nonetheless self-soothing in a familiar way: through consumption.
Young city-dwellers are spending more on “lucky” accessories, crystals and Zen-inspired fashion and fragrances in an apparent bid for emotional release, however temporary. They are also forking out on ostensibly spiritual experiences: weekends at Sichuan’s Buddhist site Mount Emei, restorative wellness retreats and frequent visits to the many temples that dot the country.
The economy of “xuanxue,” or spiritual mysticism, has boomed in recent years, with a range of price points. And it’s changing the face of retail. On popular Chinese social media app Xiaohongshu, the hashtag #xuanxue has been viewed over 5 billion times to date.
So, what are people buying and what does it say about today’s China?
‘Lucky’ luxuries
At the more affordable end of the market, demand for items like fengshui-friendly “energy enhancing” jewelry has surged. E-commerce data cited by the Chinese-language Singaporean newspaper Lianhe Zaobao showed that year-on-year sales of crystal bracelets jumped by 320% in China in 2024, accounting for more than a third of the country’s estimated 3-billion-yuan ($444 million) online crystal market. And while China’s personal luxury market has contracted by as much as 5% in 2025, according to consulting firm Bain & Company, certain high-value items are increasingly popular in netizen lore.
Across Chinese social media platforms, there’s a whole luxury spiritual codex: At 34,100 yuan ($5,000), a Cartier Juste un Clou nail bracelet in 18-karat white gold purportedly protects you from misfortune and keeps bad people away. An 18-karat rose gold and diamond Tiffany & Co. “T” bangle, for 47,300 yuan ($7,000), is thought to ward off lousy bosses and open new job opportunities. Qeelin’s Wulu jewelry collection — fashioned in the shape of auspicious bottle gourds — supposedly brings good family fortune, while Vivienne Westwood’s orb necklaces are thought to benefit your career. (With the country’s youth unemployment hovering over 16%, maybe Gen Z feels it needs all the help it can get.)
Meanwhile, Van Cleef & Arpels’ popular Alhambra “four leaf clover” collection, which starts at over 14,100 yuan ($2,000) for a simple pendant necklace, has long served dual purposes in China as both a status symbol and a lucky charm. The differing inlay materials — such as mother of pearl, malachite and onyx — have been given different mystical meanings by social media users (helping with the wearer’s career, love life, friendships or finances, for example).
While the thrill of splurging on a piece of fine luxury jewelry might feel like a spiritual experience, it is hardly a route to long-lasting inner peace. But the idea of luxury accessories serving as emotional armor amid economic uncertainty clearly resonates with consumers and marketeers capitalizing on the phenomenon.
Spirituality-inspired fashion trends have grown online, too. A hashtag that translates to “Zen style” has reached over 270 million views on Xiaohongshu, with posts referencing everything from the flowy silhouettes of high-end Chinese fashion designer Uma Wang to cheap robe-like outfits sold on Taobao and other e-commerce sites. Spiritual fast fashion might be an oxymoron, but consumers’ philosophical interrogation may not always run that deep.
