By Anastacia Barbie Chu

It’s everywhere. It’s gliding past you on a skateboard as a teenager dons long blue satin robes with his scuffed Converse peeking out from the bottom.

“Made in China” tags riddle garbage dump sites.

When young girls examine their tattered clothing and spot labels stating “Made in China,” they murmur to themselves “Ah, that must explain the poor quality.” Unsalvageable for second-hand use, these hapless pieces of clothing — created from the relentless cycle of fleeting fads and online overconsumption — are cast aside, and tossed to the only place left for them: landfills.

Yet it wasn’t always like this…

During the golden epoch of the Tang Dynasty, the Silk Road was flourishing and reaching its zenith. Merchants from far and wide traversed along the sacred trade path that stretched across a myriad of realms, kingdoms, and principalities. As exotic spices and fabrics were exchanged from the ancient hubs of Arabia to East Asia, wool, linen, and silk became à la mode. Clad in long robes, Chinese women wore amalgamations of soft pastels that swished with hues of pale jade, blush pink, and cyan. However, most women were limited to wearing wool and linen. Silk, on the other hand, caressed one’s skin with a smoothness found only in the gentle whispers of a spring breeze; as such, only a select few were bestowed with the esteemed privilege and honor of wearing such a material — individuals chosen by the Mandate of Heaven.

As daylight peered into the sleeping chambers of Empress Wu Zetian, basking the empress with morning warmth, the empress’ ladies in waiting would prepare her finest damasks, chiffons, and satin. Beginning her day with a promenade in the palace gardens, the fabrics draped upon her body were decorated with delicately embroidered floral medallions that grazed past the petals of their fellow chrysanthemums, peonies, and white lotuses. Her robes glistened gold under the gentle caress of the sun’s rays, while the silk cascaded over her like the gentle ripples of a lake — fabrics that were an ode to the breathtaking artistry of generations of past Chinese dynasties. Even her hair was an elaborate masterpiece, piled high into loops and waves, adorned with hairpins nestled perfectly into the crevices of the princess’ long hair that was as soft as the silk that draped around her body.

For nearly a millennium, fashion in China had been a breathing, changing movement evolving in each dynasty into an art form more intricate and flamboyant than the one before. But as foreign powers infiltrated China, they latched onto the nation’s people and resources like parasites, exploiting Chinese labor and sailing home with ships laden with riches and goods. In return, they offered a gift the natives simply could refuse: opium.

Chaos ensued. Warlords clashed in vying for political control, leaving the people distraught and desolate as the unruly hand of the aristocracy and bourgeois continued to oppress the working and peasant classes.

Then came Mao and his principles: Equality. Collectivism. Practicality. Values that epitomized the Mao Suit, a uniform defined by its straight cut, high collar, and four pockets. A symbol of stability during the cultural upheaval of the once-great Middle Kingdom, men and women alike wore this Maoist version of the Ming Dynasty mandarin jacket donning “Mao Caps” to complement these symbols of Chinese communism and promote nationalist sentiments. Inspired by the very suits worn by the Communist Party’s leader, gone were the days of tailoring and artisan craftsmanship; clothing was now made up of a mere four pockets, five jacket buttons, and three cuff buttons — simplified to ensure proper unified class and order,

The mid-20th century was an era of renewal as citizens rejoiced under the leadership of Mao Zhe Dong and enjoyed the proletariat utopia they had fought so long for… until a famine struck. Thirty million people starved to death as the Chinese economy plummeted to unprecedented lows, reducing the nation to one of the poorest in the worth The government needed a plan to economically liberate itself, and soon. Through massive industrialization initiatives, the economy quickly began to rehabilitate itself, and now China dominates multiple sources of production across an array of industries, from technology to textiles and apparel. But during the last five decades in this time of recovery, another ugly beast had come rearing its head as a result of mass production and overindulgence: fast fashion. As this phenomenon egregiously dominated the market, many Chinese consumers turned toward Western brands for their buying pleasure instead, associating these foreign labels’ clothing with higher-quality materials and more distinctive designs.

(However), after decades of consuming a diet of Western advertisements – billboards filled with European models with light skin and lighter hair, wearing garments that highlight designers who leverage Chinese industrial labor – the Chinese youth have found a new form of nourishment.  No longer do these youth clamor over the designs of Occidental fashion giants such as Louis Vuitton and Dior, whose claims of being completely “Made in Italy,” or “Made in France,” often mask a deeper truth: the outsourcing of both materials and craftsmanship to Chinese factories. Instead, the youth are finding sustenance in styles that celebrate their own heritage, embracing emerging Chinese designer brands that masterfully blend the beauty of ancient Chinese and contemporary fashion.

Half a decade ago, oversized polyester puffer jackets with garish “designer” logos and limited-edition American sneakers were at the forefront of various Chinese fashion aficionados’ minds. While many continue to wear modern streetwear, they are now also integrating traditional Chinese styles of clothing into their outfits donning Hanfu and Gipaos as well as their favorite trainers and denim designed by local Chinese artists.


Through this melding of influences from multiple eras of Chinese fashion and culture, the Chinese Youth has created a whole new movement: Guo Chao, otherwise known as China Chic.


It’s everywhere. It’s gliding past you on a skateboard as a teenager dons long blue satin robes with his scuffed converses peaking out from the bottom, and it’s sitting at a cafe reading the news on their Hello Kitty case-covered phone while wearing a Cheongsam, a traditional Chinese shirt with a mandarin collar and an asymmetric opening in the front, that matches their bright orange sneakers.

These individuals are redefining fashion on their own terms. Departing from far-away capitals like Paris or New York for fashion inspiration, they’re drawing from the artistry of their ancestors and their own cities. By mixing traditional elements with modern styles to create a unique narrative that celebrates cultural heritage, Chinese designers are also increasingly channeling influences from the past to shape their current collections. Visionaries like Guo Pei and Xiong Ying mesh the ancient and modern aspects of China together through their fashion designs, harkening back to styles that were once in vogue during ancient epochs to craft masterpieces that continue to revolutionize the fashion scene. During an interview at Beijing Fashion Week in 2022 for her Autumn/Winter Collection, Xiong Ying expressed that she finds endless inspiration and creativity in her own culture, which is intrinsic to the essence of fashion. She remarked, “I take my designs and contemporary aesthetics as a way to showcase Chinese culture. My exploration of this will never stop."

This shift is not merely about clothing; it embodies a renewed awareness of national identity and cultural pride, inspiring a trend that extends into makeup, interior design, urban planning, art, and performance. By prioritizing supporting homegrown designers and local craftsmanship over imported brands, today’s Chinese Youth are reinterpreting the phrase “Made in China” with a positive significance. This renaissance is not just a resurgence of Chinese cultural aestheticism, it’s a statement: “We are Chinese and we are proud.” ■