Ration coupons, known as liangpiao for food as shown in the picture and bupiao for cloth, doled out based on family size and region, became a lifeline from the 1950s until the late 1970s (CNSPHOTO)

Fashion, though often seen as a flimsy topic dangling on the fringes of the "serious content" spectrum, is a reflection of societal changes—as well as reveals deeper narratives.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the People's Republic of China (PRC).

So, as the PRC celebrated the 75th anniversary of its founding on October 1, this author, a Sinologist who explores China through the lens of, you guessed it, fashion, figured it was high time to decode the nation's sartorial revolution over the decades—and what that tells us about its societal evolution.

Buckle up!

Beijing Review photographer Wei Yao takes us on  a journey through time and style guided by pictures of his own family. Here, Wei's grandmother poses for a picture with her firstborn—Wei's father—in 1953 in Zigong, Sichuan Province (PROVIDED BY WEI YAO)

Fabric of society

The year was 1949. The newly born PRC was still dusting itself off after many years of Japanese aggression followed by a civil war. Economic challenges were widespread, with even basic necessities like food and fabric in short supply.

Enter the humble Mao suit (or the Zhongshan suit), the symbol of the era. This ensemble was originally often worn by Sun Yat-sen (Sun Zhongshan), a great forerunner of China's democratic revolution. Sun is known for his leading role during the 1911 Revolution, which overthrew the imperial Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) and ended more than 2,000 years of feudal rule in China. The suit's straight cut made it the quintessential symbol of equality and practicality, reflecting the societal values of the time. Equality wasn't just an idea—it was a look; androgynous dressing was the new normal.

Throughout the 1950s, China embraced socialist reforms full throttle and fashion followed suit—as clothing was standardized and began to be mass-produced. Blue suits also found their place in this era. Blue being a color widely associated with the working class—factory workers, peasants and laborers, these durable, affordable garments symbolized the values of hard work and perseverance.

Families had to stretch their threads as far as possible—mending, patching and passing down garments like family heirlooms. Ration coupons, known as bupiao for cloth and liangpiao for food, doled out based on family size and region, became a lifeline during this time.

As the "cultural revolution" (1966-76) unfolded, the young PRC's lookbook continued to showcase a sense of radical simplicity. Military influence, too, spread to civilian wardrobes, with the People's Liberation Army (PLA)'s olive-green uniforms and long padded coats also becoming aspired items for civilians.

But perhaps to many a reader's surprise, even though these were times of turmoil, hints of old traditions began to creep back in, particularly among the urban elites. In her 2021 interview with the shishang nainai (literally "fashionable grandmas"), the then quartet of late-aged urbanite influencers, strutting their stuff on catwalks and covers alike, this author briefly touched on their childhood memories in the early 1970s. The women spoke about the "simple life" back in the day, not going into much detail but fondly remembering the occasional colorful ribbon adorning their braids or pigtails.

And not all styles were singing "the blues." The fiery red dongbei dahua ("northeastern large flower" pattern, a traditional fabric pattern featuring large peony blossoms) cotton-padded jacket, originated in northeast China in the 1960s, adding a touch of warmth to the austerity of rural life at the time.

Seen here in the late 1970s, are his parents, relaxing by the waterfront in Zigong (PROVIDED BY WEI YAO)

A seamless transition?

"My father brought me back my first pair of jeans from the United States. I was hooked!" One of the shishang nainai exclaimed during our 2021 conversation. The fab four then whipped out photos from the early to mid-1980s, revealing that, denim aside, the perm had practically been a national treasure. Curls, waves and all the glorious volume had swept the nation like a tidal wave of hairspray.

As the PRC started to loosen its belt on the planned economy, giving way to a more market-oriented system, the winds of change began to blow through the nation's wardrobe as well. With production ramping up, the bupiao were swiftly becoming more outdated than a Mao suit at a Wham! concert. Fun fact: the iconic British pop band consisting of George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley, both sporting very big hair, performed in China in 1985, an occasion to this day considered a cultural watershed moment.

The exact end date of cloth coupon use varied depending on the region, but generally, they were no longer widely used by the mid-1980s to the early 1990s.

Fashion was no longer in the gray zone. As the 1980s rolled on, China began to see a shift in style—not necessarily a seamless transition, but undeniably one coming to life. As people unbuttoned their political jackets, they let in a little more flair, a little more color. Western styles, like jeans and T-shirts, started making their way into closets, offering a taste of China's blossoming individualism.

By the mid to late 1980s, fashionistas of the future were already on the rise. Urban youth were embracing overseas pop culture, and they were ready to break from the bland. Suits and leather jackets began popping up in city streets, replacing the utilitarian outfits of the past.

Moving into the late 1990s and early 2000s, China's urban streets turned into runways with the rapid embrace of everyday fashion. With the influx of international high-end brands in particular, from Italian couture colossus Gucci to French powerhouse Chanel, the race for high fashion was officially on, and the country's most quickly developing urban areas, packed with eager consumers, became bonafide style hubs. With the birth of Shanghai Fashion Week (SFW) in 2003, China was ready to sashay down the runway.

The year is 1985. Wei and his parents are pictured during a family outing to a park in Zigong. Overseas trends increasingly influenced daily dressing styles of the time (PROVIDED BY WEI YAO)

Tailored for greatness

SFW has been the talk of the town for over two decades, but in the last 10 years, it has transformed the city into a veritable fashion mecca—where glamour meets the gritty pulse of urban life.

One hot ticket item for the upcoming 2025 Spring/Summer SFW, starting on October 9, is the return of veteran designer Chen Anqi. Anqi's ANGEL CHEN label is a love letter to China's vanishing handicrafts, infused with modernity through collaborations like her forthcoming one with Chinese tea brand CHAGEE, which focuses on offering healthier products and spreading Chinese tea culture, to explore Eastern aesthetics. What stands out here is how Chen's work intersects with guochao—the unstoppable fashion movement dominating the Chinese scene since 2018.

And so we move from catwalk to sidewalk.

Guochao, literally meaning "national tide" and also referred to as China Chic, is a tsunami of style merging traditional Chinese cultural elements with modern design. Chinese athletic apparel brand Li-Ning thrust guochao into the limelight when they owned the runway at the 2018 New York Fashion Week's Tmall China Day, leaving other fashion brands scrambling to cop a piece of the action. Li-Ning's collection that year included calligraphy-inspired prints and ancient motifs transformed into streetwear that shouted, "I'm proud of my roots!" Guochao has since evolved far beyond fashion into Chinese toy and tech design, and even the food and beverage scene.

Under guochao's cultural umbrella, we've seen the rise of hanfu, the traditional dress of the Han Chinese. What began as an online fringe subculture in the 2000s has exploded into a full-blown industry in recent years, worth 14.47 billion yuan ($2.06 billion) as of late 2023, according to Statista.com. Then, there's xinzhongshi or "New Chinese Style," where modern designs are infused with traditional Chinese aesthetics across everything from clothing to home decor. And let's not forget minzufeng, which embraces the intricate designs of China's 56 ethnic groups, weaving regional identities into the nation's street-style drapery.

When Blossoms Shanghai, a drama series directed by Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai and set in 1990s Shanghai, then a budding economic powerhouse, hit the airwaves on December 27, 2023, it ignited a trending thirst for retro 90s fashion. Julienna Law, former managing editor of Jing Daily, the leading digital publication on the global business of luxury in China, told this author in January: "While 90s fashion has been back in style for a while now, hit shows like Blossoms Shanghai are putting the spotlight on China's particular version of 90s vintage. I think one reason for the popularity of the show's style can be linked to guochao, which has only surged since the pandemic." The show's success also tapped into a growing nostalgia for a bygone era of prosperity, when anything seemed possible, among many young Chinese.

A guochao fun fact: Last winter, the once-revered and once-reviled olive-drab PLA coats and nostalgic red dongbei dahua jackets resurfaced, thanks to a revival driven by young Chinese looking to their grandparents' winter wardrobes for inspiration. Platforms like Douyin, TikTok's Chinese sister app, and Xiaohongshu, a super popular lifestyle and e-commerce app, were flooded with tutorials on how to style these pieces for the modern day. Their retro-chic aesthetic also served as a throwback to simpler times in today's high-paced urban rat race that many young Chinese struggle to keep up with.

Wei's wife and children during a family summer outing in Beijing this year. The photographer's daughter is wearing hanfu, the traditional dress of the Han Chinese (PROVIDED BY WEI YAO)

Circular revolution

Speaking of "olive-drab"… Green is the new black. With a strong push from the Chinese Government for a greener future, brands like Icicle and Ban Xiaoxue are turning eco-consciousness into a runway revolution. Bamboo fabrics, zero-waste designs and sustainable production methods are making sustainability a hot commodity. Designer Joyce Wang of the JOYCE WANG ECO FASHION label, who, by the way, has previously employed indigo-dyeing techniques from the Bouyei ethnic minority in southwest China's Guizhou Province, told the author, "Fashion doesn't have to sacrifice style for sustainability. Many of my clients are looking to buy something they love and are willing to invest in—because they will be wearing it for many years to come. And this type of thinking is quickly spreading among Chinese consumers."

Wei and his then girlfriend, now wife, enjoy the cool of autumn in Beijing in 2007 (PROVIDED BY WEI YAO)

A sustainable fun fact: SFW 2025 Spring/Summer will collaborate with the Yangtze River Delta region, gathering 10 prominent material enterprises to showcase their sustainable feats. Fast is out, slow is in. A mindset that you can see pop up in other trending styles, too.

Thanks to Douyin and Xiaohongshu, gorpcore, mountaincore and urbancore have become ubiquitous. Whether it's camping, glamping, hiking or rock climbing, young urbanites are rocking the outdoors in style, all in the name of slowing down and pursuing fitness and mindfulness. These utility-chic styles, blending rugged outdoor wear with urban flair, often feature smart fabrics (think jackets that adjust to your body temperature).

Technology has been weaving itself into every thread of the fashion industry. Major Chinese e-commerce players like Tmall and JD.com have turned shopping into an immersive experience powered by augmented reality and artificial intelligence technologies, and tech-driven designs and smart textiles are making their way into everyday wardrobes.

Chinese street fashion is a kaleidoscope of influences, from the chill swagger of Lo-Fi Hip-Hop youth culture to subcultures like cyberpunk hanfu, a mashup of flowing traditional robes with hi-tech aesthetics like neon lights, and metallic fabrics. Trends and subcultures are flashing and flitting about in today's PRC, as far as the eye can see. But all in all, young Chinese are saying, "This is who I am," with every outfit.

One final sartorial component that continues to stand out as a constant among the ever-fleeting China Fashion crowd is genderless streetwear, a fusion of tight and loose, masculine and feminine, luxury and casual. As was the case some 70 years ago, the androgynous dress code is once again the new normal, but this time around it was chosen by the people, not for the people. From practical for work, to practical for play.

And so we have come full circle.

From Mao suits to modern streetwear, from practical uniforms to cutting-edge couture, the story of fashion in the PRC is a story of social transformation. From coupons to couture, the threads of history are woven into every fabric, proving that, sometimes, style is the ultimate statement of progress.

(Print edition title: From Coupons to Couture)

Copyedited by G.P.Wilson

Comments to elsbeth@cicgamericas.com