Not long ago, a certain kind of handbag did all the talking in China’s urban centers. It was loud, logoed, and heavy with connotations: not just what you owned, but who you hoped others would think you were. That’s changed. These days, look around any metro in Beijing or Shanghai and you’ll spot a quieter trend: bags with clean silhouettes and no nameplate in sight. Most are made by homegrown brands, designed to carry more than just cachet.
There’s a story in this shift. It mirrors the path taken by Chinese beauty brands a few years ago. Back then, new labels made their name by touting ingredient transparency and sharing manufacturing lines with big global names. Now, Chinese handbag makers are borrowing from that playbook—but aiming higher. Instead of just filling budget-friendly gaps, they want to redraw the lines of luxury itself.
Songmont, Dissona, Qiuzhen, Grotto, Kunogigi—names that once sounded fringe—are now on the rise, offering bags that combine practicality with polish. A Songmont tote might come with a backstory about hand-dyeing techniques or a breakdown of how the leather was processed. Qiuzhen highlights the raw feel of untreated, water-dyed leather that’s meant to evolve with wear—every scuff and mark transforming it into a personal patina.
One thing you won’t find? Loud logos. These bags embrace minimalism. They are roomy, soft to the touch, and steer clear of over-the-top branding. For buyers tired of knockoffs and loud labels, the appeal is in something more subtle: quiet confidence, a nod to personal taste, and a sense of knowing.
To make this pitch stick, storytelling matters. That’s why so many of these brands dig into their roots. Songmont was started by a former Google designer and her mother, who stitched the first bags by hand in Shanxi. Dissona hired a former Hermes craftsman and showed at Milan Fashion Week in 2017. Kunogigi’s origin story reaches back to a co-founder’s grandmother and her handweaving legacy. These origin stories do more than generate feel-good buzz—they are tools for building identity and trust.
And now, Chinese handbag brands are stepping onto the global stage. During Paris Fashion Week in 2024, Songmont launched a pop-up store designed to reflect the refined aesthetic of legacy luxury boutiques. In China, its storefronts also take an experiential approach. The Chengdu IFS location evokes the vibes of a bamboo valley; its space on Shanghai’s Huaihai Road mimics the curves of mountain winds. In Shenzhen, the store draws inspiration from ocean wave patterns. All of this positions Chinese brands not just as underdogs, but as design peers—especially when they share mall floors with international houses.
For many shoppers in China, the RMB 1,000 (USD 140) price tag—a line once crossed only for foreign labels—is no longer a dealbreaker. In fact, it may have become a threshold for quality. The shift is partly practical: why spend on a knockoff that might embarrass you when you can get something better-made, homegrown, and similarly priced?
But it’s also partly ideological. As China’s affluent professionals grow weary of luxury’s more obvious symbols, domestic brands have emerged as discreet alternatives to logo-heavy imports, while younger buyers gravitate toward offbeat labels like Grotto for freshness and flair.
And the numbers back this up. According to Chanmofang data, seven of the top 15 handbag brands priced above RMB 1,000 (USD 140) on Tmall as of February 2025 were Chinese. Songmont and Qiuzhen ranked second and third, behind only Coach.
But success comes with its own challenges. As some of these brands rise, they face an ironic twist: they are now being copied. Online, side-by-side reviews compare originals to “superfakes” that sell for a fraction of the price. Some buyers say they can feel the difference in the leather and craftsmanship, but others don’t see the point—if the gap is slim, is it really worth paying several times more?
This tension mirrors what happened with Chinese beauty brands. When hype gets too far ahead of product strength, customer trust can falter. Complaints have already surfaced about hardware issues and stitching flaws, and one viral post can do real damage.
To be fair, it’s a tough moment to be scaling up. Global luxury sales dipped by 2% in 2024, according to a report by Bain & Company and Fondazione Altagamma. About 50 million consumers have left the market since 2022, and many are younger buyers squeezed by inflation or just tired of endless price hikes. HSBC flagged this slowdown early in its “Cruel Summer” report, trimming growth forecasts to just 2.8% for the year.
Still, this might be a sweet spot for China’s new handbag labels. As legacy brands raise prices and tighten supply, Chinese makers can offer something fresh: design-driven, well-made bags that don’t feel like second-best. And as geopolitical shifts reshape global trade, “Made in China” could go from a liability to a selling point. Some brands may benefit from being close to the factory floor—and from owning their story of origin.
Some are already moving with the moment. Songmont, for instance, has featured a diverse roster of public figures: Wen Qi for youthful vigor, Li Na for grit and ambition, and Kelly Rutherford for classic elegance. The approach seems deliberately patchworked, jointly painting a picture of a brand that’s many things to many people.
The real test though, is subtler. Can these bags keep solving real problems—combining form, function, and quality—while convincing buyers that they are not just good for the price, but good, full stop? Can a bag from Beijing or Shenzhen turn heads in New York or Paris, and spark the question every brand wants to hear: “Where’d you get that?”