Behind The Burgeoning Chinese Nostalgia Sentiment: A New Zeitgeist For Our Time

When we talk about “the time of economic upswings 经济上行期”, what are we reminiscing collectively?

Credit: Xiao Hongshu

Nostalgia is a recurring theme in the global economy, and it's particularly fascinating to see it embraced by younger generations, like Gen Z, who often long for an era that was 20 or 30 years ago, before they were even born.

I was recently reminded of this while reading about the revival of vinyl records. In a digital age where streaming music is so convenient, people are still returning to the tactile, intentional experience of listening to music on vinyl. This isn't just a niche trend. According to Statista, vinyl album sales have been increasing for 18 consecutive years till 2024 in the US, with 43.6 million Eps/ LPs sold in 2023, up from less than a million in 2006.

In China, this sense of nostalgia is a widespread cultural phenomenon. It's not just Gen Z, but the whole society that is collectively looking back at a period known as "the time of economic upswings" (经济上行时期)—China's booming growth era of the early 2000s. On Xiao Hongshu (aka Red Note), the discussion has dominated the hot topic list for two straight weeks, amassing more than 8 million views.

This cultural phenomenon piques my curiosity, prompting me to reflect on what we are truly yearning for when we speak of ‘the time of economic booms’ and everything it represents. How will this collective sentiment find its outlet? Where will people choose to splurge their money and time to satisfy this nostalgia, much like they once did with the ‘emotional economy’? And will this become the next big wave, unique to China or shared by the rest of the world?”

A Call for Hope, Optimism, and Unapologetic Ambition

The sentiment for "the time of economic upswings" is a yearning for a zeitgeist of hope, optimism, and an unapologetic "I don't care" attitude.

What people truly miss about ‘the time of economic upswings’ is that every day felt infused with hope and opportunity—and how could it not be? Today, we wake up to headlines about prolonged economic doldrums, deflation, high unemployment among college graduates, tariff wars, geopolitical frictions, and mounting US–China tensions. But in the early 2000s, I woke each morning to news of double-digit economic growth, China’s entry into the WTO, Beijing’s triumphant bid for the 2008 Olympic Games, and a honeymoon period in China–US relations.

However, having lived through this booming era, I must say the reality was far less rosy than it is now romanticized by those who never experienced it. In 2002, at the dawn of the boom, I moved from Chongqing to Shanghai in pursuit of a glamorous cosmopolitan life. I rented a small flat for 700 RMB (about $97) a month, with a shared, filthy bathroom that often made me nauseous—I would sometimes sneak into a McDonald’s restroom instead. A 17 RMB ($2.36) bowl of Japanese ramen was my weekly luxury. Yet none of this dampened my spirit. I was fueled by an inexhaustible supply of optimism, hope, and ambition, just as the whole society was 20 years ago. For a young newcomer from the ‘countryside’ in the eyes of native Shanghainese, that was more than enough to keep me going.

Now, the aesthetic labeled as ‘economic boom beauty’ is making a strong comeback. Across China, people are encouraged to wear ‘hope and optimism’—through bold colors, maximalist styles, and exaggerated makeup—as a way to 支棱起来 (perk themselves up). In the boom years, dressing brightly and boldly meant being seen, and being seen meant more opportunities. The same holds true today: it signals self-confidence, and in times when opportunities are scarce, confidence makes others more inclined to give you a chance, especially when most people shy away from standing out.

The Unapologetic Attitude and Fighting Spirit

Moreover, when we talk about ‘the time of economic upswings,’ what the whole of Chinese society seems to be calling back is an almost unapologetic attitude of ‘I don’t care, nor should you’—a symbolic zeitgeist of the early 2000s, when people faced challenges, hardships, and even misfortune together.

If memory serves, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, a wave of local, light-industry SOEs (State-Owned Enterprises) went bankrupt. Many lifelong employees were laid off with only modest compensation after the 1997 policy of ‘Grasping the big, letting go of the small’ (抓大放小). That was when the term xià gǎng 下岗 (‘laid off’) entered the Chinese lexicon for the first time. I was still in school then, too young to fully grasp what the word meant for a family, but I remember hearing that some classmates’ parents, suddenly jobless, set up street stalls selling breakfast to scrape together a living. Others had to leave their teenage children behind to take temporary jobs in coastal cities.

It was also during that time, fraught with uncertainty, laced with anxiety, despair, and disillusionment, yet still tinged with hope, that the legendary chapters of Chinese entrepreneurship were written. Figures like Jack Ma of Alibaba, Pony Ma of Tencent, and Robin Li of Baidu emerged, laying the groundwork for the explosive growth of China’s digital economy in the years to come.

What I want to remind you of is that the popular image of ‘the era of economic upswings’ is only partially true. It wasn’t all positivity, boundless optimism, and hope—it was also a tough age for the majority of Chinese families. What I miss most from that era is the zeitgeist we have, sadly, lost over the past 20 years of self-indulgence and complacency: an unstoppable fighting spirit and a quiet tenacity that exuded in every look, every action, regardless of what lay ahead. That was the deep-rooted driving force — the engine that powered China’s two decades of economic boom.

Zhang Ziyi, in her early twenties and soaring to international stardom, embodied the very zeitgeist of China’s economic boom. Beneath her attention-grabbing fashion—often in dazzling pink or vivid Chinese red—the young, fierce, and beautiful Zhang radiated an irresistible charm and a vitality that seemed unstoppable. Her iconic Maybelline New York look made a bold statement to the world, her sparkling yet determined eyes carrying an unapologetic message: ‘I don’t care, nor should you.’

Credit: Xiao Hongshu

Back to the rest of us. My classmates whose parents were laid off didn’t choose to ‘lie flat’ (tǎng píng) as many of the younger generation do now. They didn’t look dispirited, as circumstances might have dictated; some even studied harder, gained admission to prestigious universities, and secured solid careers after graduation. Perhaps they had absorbed hard lessons from their parents’ layoffs. As the Chinese proverb goes, ‘Within every misfortune, good fortune is embedded.

A Reflection, Not a Replication

Yes, "the era of economic upswings" was an unbelievable ride for the whole Chinese population, a journey from "rags to riches." It's no wonder we are collectively reminiscing about it now. But in our nostalgia, we tend to forget how tough it was for many, especially for those who faced the profound uncertainty and misfortune of seismic economic and societal changes, like my classmates' families.

This collective reflection is a good signal. It's a sign that we're asking important questions: what did we do right, and why? How can we get it right again? This cultural calling isn't about replicating the past, but about recreating something new from its enduring spirit.

Ultimately, this longing isn't for brighter days, but for the resilience and determination that made those days possible. The question isn't whether we can go back, but how we can harness that spirit to move forward. What new legends will be written now, as this generation channels the tenacity of their predecessors to forge an era of their own?