The New Rules of Desirability: Inside China’s She Economy

Amy Weng • March 13, 2026

China accounts for about 62% of the world’s self-made women billionaires, according to the Hurun Global Rich List. At the same time, data from the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor's 2023/2024 report shows that China is among the rare economies worldwide where women's startup rates match or exceed those of men, and it has a generation of university graduates that is now majority female. It is also a country where the government actively encourages women to marry earlier, have more children, and return to domestic life. The she economy lives in the tension between those two realities.


China's female consumer base controls an estimated $1.4 trillion in annual spending, according to Accenture research. They influence 70% of all household purchases and, in a shift that would have been culturally unimaginable a generation ago, now direct a majority of their personal spending toward their own needs rather than those of their families, according to JD.com research.


Who They Are

The she economy did not emerge from a single city or a single demographic. Its most visible architects sit at the very top of global wealth rankings. Zhong Huijuan left a job as a chemistry teacher to found Hansoh Pharmaceutical in Jiangsu, building it into one of China's leading oncology and psychotropic drug companies; by mid-2025 she ranked first in Asia and third globally on Forbes' list of self-made women billionaires, with a fortune of approximately $19.7 billion. Wu Yajun arrived at entrepreneurship from a different direction: factory floor technician earning $16 a month, then property journalist, before co-founding Longfor Properties in Chongqing in 1993, a company that grew into one of China's largest real estate developers. Wang Laichun, chairwoman of Luxshare Precision Industry, spent years on Foxconn's assembly lines before building the company that now manufactures Apple's AirPods and rivals Foxconn across Apple's supply chain; the 2024 Fortune list ranked her the most powerful woman in business in Asia.


The geographic picture is equally important. A significant share of Chinese female internet users now live outside the traditional tier-one cities. Hangzhou, Chengdu, Wuhan, Xi'an, Nanjing: these are not secondary markets. They are where consumption habits are being formed, where new platforms find their earliest adopters, and where brand loyalty, or its absence, is decided. A 32-year-old finance professional in Hangzhou and a 28-year-old designer in Chengdu may have similar purchasing power and entirely different ideas of what makes a product worth owning. 


Spending on the Self

The founders described above illustrate the female economic power at the top. The same shift is also visible in how women are spending. One of the most structurally significant shift in the she economy is the direction of spending. In 2023, Chinese women purchased 8.23 million vehicles, up 10.6% year-on-year, according to Yiche Research Institute, a category that was almost exclusively male-dominated a decade ago. Women are also increasingly central in homebuying decisions. Surveys suggest that more than 80% of property purchases now involve female decision-makers. Wellness, travel, and self-education have become the fastest-growing spending categories among urban women under 40.


This is not consumption for its own sake. These spending patterns reflect a generation of women who came of age in a different educational and economic environment. Women now account for 63% of all higher education enrolment, outnumbering men at undergraduate level and in several postgraduate disciplines, according to China's Ministry of Education. They are applying the same rigour to purchases as to careers. The luxury resale market is part of this logic: platforms like Plum, which specialises in pre-owned luxury goods, are overwhelmingly female-driven, combining value-consciousness with the kind of careful curation that defines this cohort's relationship with objects.


Chinese Models taking selfies

Photo: Chinese models taking selfies


Gen Z

The next inflection point is already visible. Chinese Gen Z women are the least brand-loyal consumer group in the country's history, the most digitally fluent, and the most likely to make a purchase decision based on peer validation rather than brand prestige. The platform where much of this plays out, Xiaohongshu, functions less as social media and more as a living index of taste: search results for any luxury product surface not brand campaigns but peer assessments, often from women with no commercial relationship to the brand at all, describing the weight of the fabric, the durability of the hardware, the gap between marketing image and reality. For luxury brands accustomed to controlling their narrative, it is a fundamentally new environment. According to Tencent's 2024 Luxury Report, Gen Z and millennials together account for approximately 70% of luxury spending in China. The luxury market itself has been through a turbulent recalibration: after contracting 17% to 19% in 2024, it shrank a further 3% to 5% in 2025, according to Bain's January 2026 China Personal Luxury Report. Yet Bain also describes 2025 as a year in which the market began to stabilise, with recovery signals emerging in the second half, and forecasts modest growth returning in 2026. Chinese nationals still account for roughly 23% of global luxury demand, per Bernstein, making the trajectory of this consumer base among the most closely watched questions in the industry.


What the forecast does not capture is the qualitative shift driving it. Conspicuous consumption, the logo-forward purchasing behaviour that defined the early 2000s luxury boom in China, has largely given way to something more considered. For high-net-worth women, quality of material and craft provenance have become the primary criteria. In the premium segment, experience and cultural resonance drive decisions: a bespoke wellness retreat, a limited-edition collaboration with a Chinese contemporary artist, a brand whose communication demonstrates genuine knowledge of the culture it is entering. For Gen Z, meaning and community come first. Pop Mart, whose collectible figures are bought by a 75% female customer base, understood this before most luxury houses did.


The Contradictions

The narrative the Chinese state projects about women tends to emphasise harmony and domesticity. The she economy, to a significant degree, tells a different story. Marriage rates have fallen for eight consecutive years. China's birth rate hit a record low in 2025, with just 7.9 million babies born, down from 9.5 million the previous year, according to China's National Bureau of Statistics. The fertility rate, estimated at around 1.0, places China alongside South Korea and Japan at the bottom of global rankings. Government incentives for childbirth, including extended leave and cash subsidies across multiple provinces, have produced little measurable change in behaviour. Many educated urban women are opting out of the marriage timeline because the economic and personal case for it has weakened. A millennial, affluent woman with her own income, her own apartment, and her own professional identity has a different relationship to dependence than her mother did.


The ceiling above the she economy is still there. In state-owned enterprises, which still dominate large swathes of banking, energy, and heavy industry, women hold a fraction of board and senior executive seats. The constitutional guarantee of gender equality in China has not translated into corporate governance reform at the top of the state sector. The private economy, by contrast, has been more permeable, and it is no coincidence that most of China's prominent female founders and executives have built their careers inside the private sector. Whether the next decade extends that openness or narrows it, is one of the more consequential unanswered questions in Chinese business.


What is not in question is the scale and direction of what has already shifted. A younger generation is coming up behind these founders and executives that is more independent, more discerning, and increasingly unwilling to grant a brand loyalty it has not earned. The she economy does not stand still. Neither does the woman driving it, and she is considerably more interesting than most western assumptions give her credit for.

Amy Weng is a China market expert and founder of Think East.  She advises luxury houses, consumer brands, Swiss institutions, and senior executives seeking a deeper understanding of the Chinese market. Amy speaks regularly on topics including China’s digital landscape, Young China, and the forces reshaping Chinese consumer culture. Her work bridges the gap between Western brands and one of the world’s most sophisticated consumer audiences.

This article was originally published on Luxury Tribune, the reference media for the global luxury industry.

Formula 1 at Full Speed in China

By Amy Weng • March 16, 2026
Formula 1 returned to Shanghai this weekend to a sold-out circuit and 221 million Chinese fans. Luxury brands have been paying close attention. The sport's China moment has arrived. On Sunday afternoon, Kimi Antonelli crossed the finish line at the Shanghai International Circuit to claim his first Formula 1 victory. The youngest Grand Prix polesitter in the sport's history converted pole position into a commanding win before a capacity crowd. Lewis Hamilton took his first podium in Ferrari red at the circuit where, twelve months earlier, he had claimed a sprint victory before a disqualification ended his Grand Prix weekend. The racing was close, unpredictable and genuinely dramatic. In the stands, 220,000 spectators watched a sport that, in China, has become one of the most significant luxury marketing opportunities of the decade. The spectacle on track was compelling. The story in the grandstands is arguably more so. 221 Million Fans and Counting The scale of Chinese F1 fandom is not widely understood outside the industry. According to Formula 1's own 2025 season review, China now has 221 million self-identified fans, second only to Europe as a market, and representing a 39% increase in a single year. This weekend's Grand Prix sold out entirely. Formula 1's Chinese social media platforms, including Weibo, Douyin, Xiaohongshu, and WeChat, grew 35% in 2025 alone. The profile of the Chinese F1 fan matters as much as the scale. According to Formula 1's 2025 Global Fan Survey, 46% of Chinese fans are female and 40% are aged between 16 and 34. Over half came to the sport within the last five years, most through social media and streaming rather than broadcast television. This is a young, digitally fluent, predominantly urban consumer base that discovered Formula 1 as a cultural phenomenon: something to follow, attend, discuss, and wear. The parallels with China's luxury consumer are not coincidental. They are, to a remarkable degree, the same person: young, urban, educated, spending on experience and identity as much as objects. The F1 fan in China and the luxury consumer in China overlap in ways that the most attentive brands have already begun to act on. What Luxury Brands Understood First In October 2024, LVMH announced a 10-year global partnership with Formula 1, reportedly valued at more than $100 million per year, making it one of the largest sponsorship agreements in the history of sport. Louis Vuitton, TAG Heuer, and Moët Hennessy are the three Maisons leading the activation. TAG Heuer replaced Rolex as the sport's official timekeeper. Moët & Chandon returned to podium celebrations. Louis Vuitton now crafts the bespoke trophy trunk handed to each race winner, including the one presented to Antonelli in Shanghai on Sunday. The partnership, as framed by Bernard Arnault, was premised on Formula 1 having become one of the most desirable sports in the world. The China dimension is central to that logic. Louis Vuitton's recent Shanghai activations, including The Louis concept space at HKRI Taikoo Hui and its maritime heritage exhibitions, have already demonstrated the brand's understanding that Chinese luxury consumers want cultural experience as much as product. An annual Grand Prix in Shanghai gives LVMH a moment of live, shared spectacle in the market that matters most. The trophy trunk is a piece of brand communication as much as it is a piece of luggage. Other brands are moving with equal purpose. Ahead of this weekend's race, Tumi brought Lando Norris, the reigning world champion, onto a Douyin livestream to engage Chinese fans directly. It is a precise articulation of the opportunity: a global sports star, a platform built for the Chinese digital consumer, and a brand repositioning itself for a younger audience through the cultural equity Formula 1 now carries in China. The activation required no translation. The audience already knew who Norris was.

How Adidas Turned the Tang Jacket into a Cultural and Commercial Success

By Eini Kärkkäinen • February 10, 2026
When Adidas released its Tang jacket ahead of Lunar New Year 2024, it was intended as a limited regional drop for Mainland China, Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan. Instead, it became one of the most recognizable fashion phenomena in China’s modern streetwear scene. Queues formed outside flagship stores, social media buzzed with styling posts, and resale prices surged. By 2026, the jacket had evolved from a seasonal item into a cultural symbol. Its resonance, however, came from more than design alone. It captured a pivotal moment in China’s emotional landscape. Post-COVID Reconnection with Cultural Identity The pandemic reshaped how many Chinese consumers view identity, heritage, and consumption. Lockdowns, limited travel, and global tension prompted renewed appreciation for domestic craftsmanship and cultural symbolism. Young consumers began favoring products that reflected confidence and continuity rather than globalized trends. This mindset drove movements such as Guochao (国潮) and Neo-Chinese (新中式) fashion. The Tang jacket fit naturally within this shift, offering a modern, wearable link to tradition. Reimagining Tradition for Everyday Wear The Tang jacket draws from Tangzhuang (唐装), garments whose roots trace back to styles popularized during the Tang dynasty, a period celebrated for cultural openness and artistry. Adidas incorporated traditional details such as Mandarin collars, frog-button closures (盘扣), and symbolic knot fastenings into its signature three-stripe silhouette. The collaboration with Chinese designer Samuel Guiyang further grounded the project in local aesthetics, combining his contemporary tailoring approach with Adidas’ streetwear identity. These features, traditionally associated with harmony and fortune, were reimagined with modern proportions and materials, creating a garment that felt both authentic and current. This balance made it appealing to fashion-forward youth and culturally mindful consumers alike. Overseas Chinese and Global Amplification A major factor behind the jacket’s rise was its enthusiastic reception among overseas Chinese communities. For diaspora consumers, cultural symbols hold heightened emotional weight. Living abroad often deepens one’s sense of heritage, and the Tang jacket became a stylish conduit for connection. On Xiaohongshu, Instagram, and TikTok, users abroad showcased it as both fashion and pride. That content flowed back into China’s digital sphere, fueling a cross-border feedback loop that transformed a regional launch into a global cultural trend. Platform-Driven Storytelling and Scarcity The product’s spread reflected the dynamics of China’s integrated social platforms. Users posted unboxings, Lunar New Year family photos, and reunion clips featuring the jacket, telling stories grounded in emotion rather than advertising. Algorithms amplified these personal narratives, while limited inventory created natural scarcity. The result was a self-perpetuating cycle of desirability and visibility. Adidas did not need aggressive promotion, as community storytelling and peer validation drove success organically. From Sportswear Brand to Cultural Participant Adidas’ emerging cultural role became clear in October 2025, when it closed Shanghai Fashion Week SS26 with its “Power of Three” showcase. Merging traditional motifs with innovative performance fabrics, the event signaled the brand’s transformation from an international sportswear supplier to a meaningful participant in China’s fashion ecosystem. Adidas was no longer adapting to cultural trends; it was helping shape them.

Chinese Elders vs. Swiss Elderly

By Fiona Koh • January 13, 2026
Whoever has visited China, no matter how big or small the city, will have observed one thing: Chinese elderly women line dancing in public plazas to loud Chinese pop songs blaring out of big speakers. Even late at night, the Chinese aunties dance in big groups and spend time together. Anyone who has spent some time in China will also have noticed the ubiquitous outdoor fitness parks where elderly men casually crank out pull-ups as if they’re competing in a world championship, staying fit with whatever equipment happens to be available. Furthermore, China’s “silver economy” providing products and services for the elderly is estimated at ~7 trillion yuan (~CHF 800 billion) as of 2023 and projected to reach ~30 trillion yuan (~CHF 3.4 trillion) by 2035. Such observations are in stark contrast to the Swiss landscape: Elderly are mostly seen running errands before they disappear back into their house or apartment. While some take to the mountains for hiking, everyday public life remains largely age-neutral, with older generations mostly out of sight. Beyond walking or hiking, it is uncommon to see elderly people dancing or exercising openly in public spaces. But why are the two cultures so different in how elderly find their space in society? The contrast isn’t accidental; it’s the result of history, urban design, social norms, and how each society understands aging itself. First, public space plays a very different role. In China, dense urban living and a long tradition of communal life mean that plazas, parks, and courtyards function as extensions of the home. Dancing, tai chi, or using outdoor fitness equipment is not seen as “performative” or unusual; it’s simply how one belongs to the community, and elderly people are encouraged to be part. In Switzerland, by contrast, private space is larger and more protected. Social life is more likely to move indoors or into organized clubs, and being loudly visible in public can feel intrusive rather than communal. Second, cultural attitudes toward collectivism versus privacy matter. Chinese society has deep collectivist roots. Group activities, especially among older generations, feel natural and comforting. Swiss culture places a much higher value on privacy, individual boundaries, and not “disturbing” others. Third, infrastructure and policy reinforce these norms. China has deliberately invested in free, accessible outdoor fitness parks and large plazas, especially since the 1990s. Switzerland invests heavily in nature access and healthcare, but far less in everyday, informal social infrastructure for the elderly.