Forget logos, young people in China want ‘spiritual’ luxury

Jing Zhang, CNN

(CNN) — 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.

Young people are no longer just paying for a product, but “paying for a form of self-definition and an emotional container,” said Linda Yu, a general manager at marketing agency Red Ant Asia, which is headquartered in Shanghai. “Some brands have recently shifted spiritual consumption from the margins to the mainstream.”

Mainstream consumer brands like Lululemon and the coffee chain M Stand have launched spirituality-themed marketing campaigns in China in recent years. Bubble Tea brand Molly Tea’s collaboration with a 1,700-year-old temple in Hangzhou featured co-branded cup sleeves, fridge magnets and fragrance diffusers. Burger King even partnered with the Taoist site on Mount Longhu for Lunar New Year, with a “God of Wealth” figurine available, for an extra 38 yuan ($5.62), with fast food meal deals.

Local luxury labels have been somewhat subtler, eschewing obvious iconography while integrating Chinese philosophies into their branding. Among them is the viral handbag brand Songmont, whose podcast asks famous directors or actors to discuss topics like self-acceptance and creativity in contemplative two-hour episodes.

“Songmont doesn’t sell luck per se — it sells peace of mind that comes from slowing down,” said Yu, who believes the brand’s customers “aren’t buying a logo, they’re buying into a spiritual identity.” She added: “Its designs draw inspiration from the curved eaves of ancient Shanxi architecture or the lines of the Yellow River floodplain, and their marketing is deliberately slow.”

China is officially an atheist state where fewer than 10% of people formally identify with a religion, according to a Pew Research Center report. But when the definition of religion was widened to include questions on “spirituality, customs and superstitions,” the role of religion in people’s lives grew significantly, the think tank said. For example, a 2018 survey, cited in Pew’s report, found that 47% of Chinese adults believe in fengshui, where the positioning of objects or buildings in relation to one another can bring happiness and good fortune.

Praying at temples for wealth and good fortune is a common practice, even for those who aren’t especially religious. And ascribing talismanic properties to jewelry is a tradition dating back thousands of years.

This may, in part, explain why obviously commercial brand collaborations — like fast food chains working with temples or jewelers and fashion labels capitalizing on spiritualism — haven’t sparked the kind of backlash they might expect to in the West.

Chinese state media, which typically reflects Communist Party-held attitudes or positions on issues, has expressed skepticism towards the trend, often warning consumers on the risks of being scammed. “Turning to xuanxue can provide some stress relief. Becoming obsessed with, or even superstitious about it, can lead people astray,” a Marxist scholar is quoted as saying in a recent article published by China Youth Daily.

Temples and retreats

Thirty-two-year-old Zach Liu is not particularly religious, yet he and his wife spent their honeymoon traveling to temples around Dali, in China’s Yunnan province. He spent about 100 yuan ($15) on a prayer plaque asking for his family’s good health at the ancient Chongsheng Temple. Hundreds of other young temple-goers had the same idea, he said, recalling that many fellow visitors purchased blessed charms and beads on-site.

“When there’s growing pressure (in life), people tend to visit temples to take a breather, even if it’s temporary,” said Liu, who is originally from Suzhou, a city just west of Shanghai and works as a consultant for a university. “Self-soothing and spiritual enrichment is a large part of it, alongside engagement with culture, beautiful scenery and history.”

In recent years, China’s temple economy, which includes revenue from related merchandise, has been widely reported to be worth around 100 billion yuan (14.8 billion) annually. Growing demand is partly driven by the proliferation of temple content on social media, according to Liu.

“We see so much online content, both from the temples’ accounts and influencer content on Xiaohongshu,” he said.

Influencer and jewelry designer She Ze Lin, 25, is a case in point. She regularly visits temples for inspiration — and content, of course — and now brings groups of followers to different religious sites around China.

According to She, there are two main types of young people making temple tourism so popular today: Those who have already achieved “a certain level of material comfort, and seek to find release in the spiritual realm” and those looking to “cope with the uncertainty of reality, alleviate anxiety, manage job pressures, salary concerns, romantic and marital pressures, and the many choices and uncertainties of the future.” In other words, both the haves and the have-nots.

“Given that many young people’s social circles nowadays revolve around topics like astrology, MBTI (Myers Briggs) or fortune-telling, it’s almost as if these practices serve as social tools now,” said She, who is from Guangdong province’s Chaozhou region.

Similar motives may be powering the fast-growing market for divination, astrology and tarot reading apps. The Tencent-backed Cece astrology app has been downloaded around 24 million times according to data shared with CNN by market intelligence firm Sensor Tower. People are also paying for online astrologers to sooth feelings of uncertainty and hopelessness, with some even sending small payments (some as little as a yuan or two) via their smartphones for “digital prayers” during temple livestreams.

Like in the West, luxury spending continues to shift from material goods to emotional and sensory experiences, a welcome development for the wellness sector. Sound baths — featuring meditative singing bowls, gongs and wind chimes — have popped up in central Shanghai; Upper House hotels in mainland China now offer full-day wellness retreats that include crystal “soul reading” sessions.

Energy Alchemy, a luxury five-day retreat in Bali priced at 42,000 yuan ($6,200), is aimed at wealthy millennial Chinese women and includes workshops on breathwork and reiki, a Japanese spiritual healing practice. Its founder Weiley Chen Walter, who launched the business after 15 years in fintech, says that “many modern Chinese women are beginning to ask deeper questions around identity, emotional inheritance, burnout and self-worth — questions that previous generations were rarely allowed to openly ask.”

Young women are increasingly speaking out online “about the desire not just for outward success, but for inner peace,” she added.

This all comes amid rapid technological, social and economic change in China. Liu said participation in the spiritual economy helps “mitigate feelings of uncertainty” as the “traditional pathway of studying hard for college, then graduating, and finding a high-paying job just no longer holds true for many young people,” he added. “With the arrival of AI, for instance, many are unsure if their current jobs will still be relevant in the near future.”

This pursuit of inner peace, whether through vacations or symbolic purchases, may reflect a generation trying to buy calm in a country where certainty is itself a luxury. The spiritual economy is not necessarily about outright faith, but rather ritual, emotion and a sense of agency.

“After all, we all spend money to buy happiness,” said Yang, the college student. “We exchange the fruits of our labor for emotional fulfillment.”

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CNN’s Joyce Jiang, Fred He and Shuai Zhang contributed to this report.