As international tourism rebounds across China, an unexpected cultural phenomenon has emerged: foreign visitors donning elaborate historical costumes to pose against imperial backdrops. French traveler Titi became an overnight sensation after sharing photos of himself dressed as a Qing Dynasty "gege" (imperial prince) in Xitang Water Town, his green silk robe and floral headdress contrasting strikingly with ancient stone bridges. "People kept telling me I looked beautiful," Titi remarked, describing how the costume transformed his travel experience.
His social media post attracted floods of comments like "You look like a real prince!" and "That floral crown is perfection!" This trend reflects a deeper cultural engagement, with China welcoming 736,740 foreign tourists in Q1 2025 alone—a 39.2% year-on-year surge. Ancient palaces and gardens now serve as open-air studios where travelers from Malaysia to South Africa reinvent themselves as Ming scholars, Tang empresses, or Qing nobility.
For many, these photoshoots represent more than souvenirs; they're immersive journeys into China’s living history. As Titi explained while quoting classical poetry in a later post: "Dressing in period clothing makes historical sites feel alive. When Chinese tourists ask for photos with me, it becomes a shared celebration."
Selfies That Transcend Cultures
What began as curiosity has evolved into meaningful cross-cultural exchange. For Titi, the fascination started with seeing locals wearing hanfu in daily life—their flowing sleeves and embroidered patterns igniting his desire to participate. At Beijing’s Summer Palace or Chengdu’s temple complexes, visitors like South African student Lisa describe feeling "transported into a historical drama," their braided hair and brocade gowns attracting both local admiration and millions of TikTok likes. Comments under such posts reveal global fascination, with international audiences asking: "Where can I get this experience?"
The appeal spans generations and nationalities. Kevin, a studio owner near Beijing’s Forbidden City, notes clients ranging from toddlers to seniors. "A 70-year-old French woman giggled like a child in her empress gown," he recalled. "The transformation brings universal joy." Studios now stock over 400 costumes, from dragon-embroidered emperor robes to delicate "qipao" dresses, with stylists guiding visitors through culturally authentic hairstyles and accessories.
Language barriers dissolve through translation apps and visual storytelling. "We help Korean tourists adjust Ming Dynasty collars, assist Italian couples with Tang Dynasty couple poses, and adjust hairpins for Malaysian families," Kevin explained. This tactile interaction creates unexpected bonds—a sentiment echoed by Titi: "My photographer gestured instructions, and suddenly we were collaborators creating art." The resulting images become personal legends, shared as digital postcards rewriting cultural narratives.
A Thriving Industry’s Blueprint
Behind every "imperial transformation" lies a booming entrepreneurial ecosystem. Beijing’s Wangfujing district has become ground zero for costume studios, with "Palace Photography" searches surging 155% year-on-year. Kevin’s studio alone serves 70+ international groups monthly, attributing 20% growth to foreign tourists since 2024. "May to August is peak season," he noted. "We open at dawn as groups depart for the Forbidden City, returning by sunset."
Data confirms this surge. Meituan reports 44% growth in "ancient costume photography" reviews, while Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book) sees 48% more related content. Studios strategically cluster near heritage sites—Wangfujing’s studios capitalize on proximity to the Palace Museum, while Hangzhou’s West Lake boutiques leverage lakeside pagodas. The operational rhythm is precise: 60-minute makeup sessions, 8-hour costume rentals, and location-specific styling (lighter fabrics for summer palace shoots, heavier brocades for winter temple visits).
Businesses innovate through tiered pricing ($50-$200 packages) and thematic expansions. "We now offer ’Tang Poetry Garden’ sessions with calligraphy props and ’Imperial Banquet’ group photos," shared Kevin. During peak hours, multilingual signage and digital lookbooks streamline choices—Korean visitors favor pastel "dangui" (princess gowns), while Europeans prefer bold emperor robes. This commercial alchemy turns cultural curiosity into economic vitality, supporting makeup artists, tailors, and photographers citywide.
Cultural Currency in Silk Robes
Beyond economics, this phenomenon represents cultural diplomacy in motion. Professor Zhang Jinshan of Beijing Union University observes: "Clothing is civilization’s skin. When foreign travelers wear hanfu, they’re not just renting fabric—they’re investing in cultural belonging." The trend aligns with China’s "telling China’s story well" initiative, transforming tourists into ambassadors who organically showcase cultural appreciation globally.
The costumes themselves serve as tactile history lessons. Qing Dynasty "chaofu" (court robes) with twelve imperial symbols teach status hierarchies; Tang Dynasty "ruqun" jackets with cosmic patterns illustrate philosophical beliefs. As Lisa reflected: "Learning why sleeves widened during prosperous eras made me appreciate China’s historical continuity." This embodied learning creates lasting resonance—Titi now researches Confucian rituals after wearing scholar robes.
Ultimately, these silk-and-brocade encounters forge human connections transcending politics. When Chinese grandmothers adjust a Russian teen’s hairpin at Chengdu’s Wuhou Temple, or when Titi’s "gege" photos inspire Brazilian followers to study Chinese, costume becomes cultural currency. As Zhang concluded: "These images aren’t just travel mementos—they’re bridges built thread by thread." In an age of digital fragmentation, the shared laughter over misplaced sashes or oversized crowns reminds us that curiosity remains humanity’s most universal language.
