In an orange qipao, a traditional Chinese dress known for its high collar and fitted shape, Hou walked onto the runway under bright spotlights. Behind her, women in similar outfits stepped forward one by one.

The runway was only one stop in Hou’s new routine. She films advertisements, takes acting roles, learns salsa and lion dance, and shares her experiences at forums about aging and retirement.

At 64, Hou has never been busier. “This is the happiest time of my life,” she said, asking to be identified only by her surname.

Hou entered college in 1977, the year China restored the national college entrance examination, or gaokao. She spent much of her career as a civil engineer at a state-owned institution before later working as a receptionist.

She belongs to a generation that built its careers during China’s economic boom. Many educated urban workers entered public institutions or state-owned enterprises, securing stable jobs and pensions, then retired in their 50s or early 60s with time — and money — to spend on hobbies, travel, and new social lives.

“We’re different from the older generation,” Hou said. “We have ideas. We don’t want to spend our days just drinking tea, buying groceries, and taking care of grandchildren. We want our lives to be more exciting.”

Hou estimates she has attended about eight paid events. One fashion show cost around 3,000 yuan ($450), while a portrait session reached nearly 10,000 yuan after she ordered additional photographs.

That spending power is drawing younger entrepreneurs into a market of 320 million people aged 60 or older — nearly a quarter of China’s population. According to industry platform AgeClub, more than 500 retiree clubs now operate nationwide, most in first- and second-tier cities.

One is Sparkly Lady, in the southern Guangdong province, founded by Wu Yao, 33, for women in their 50s and 60s. Its calendar ranges from AI, makeup, bachata, and lion dance classes to food tours and short trips, with larger events giving members a professionally filmed turn on the runway.

Sparkly Lady positions itself above the low-cost community classes common among retirees. Most activities cost a few hundred yuan, while professionally filmed fashion shows can reach nearly 3,000 yuan per person. Wu said the pricing reflects the club’s focus on offering more personalized experiences and attracting members who are a better fit for its community.

Sparkly Lady has about 2,000 members, several hundred of them active. Wu said the club made more than 1 million yuan in profit last year from paid events, corporate consulting, and advertising, and aims to double that figure this year.

In Beijing, Liu Jing, 35, took a more affordable approach. Her club, Tai Youqu — a homonym of the Chinese phrase “very interesting” — grew out of a 2023 post on Xiaohongshu, the lifestyle app also known as RedNote, seeking activity partners for her parents. The responses came from retirees and their children, revealing demand Liu had not expected.

“I realized this could become a new business model and a new retirement lifestyle,” Liu said. “People in their 60s today, with greater financial security, are different from previous generations. But retirement can still leave a gap in both routine and purpose.”

The club runs around 20 events a week across Beijing, most priced at only a few dozen yuan. Wang, 62, joined after retiring from his hotel massage job two years ago. He now attends short trips, guitar lessons, and a weekly African drumming class. “Sometimes I look forward to it all week,” he said.

The club’s games are among its biggest draws. At one murder-mystery session, six retirees sat around a table covered in red paper as the host served dumplings. Scripts in hand, they prepared to act out a story set on Chinese New Year’s Eve in northeastern China.

Wang also attends community singing classes, but at 62, he is often the youngest participant; the oldest is 79. He described them as “a different crowd” and said he found it hard to connect with the other participants.

But clubs offer a constant sense of novelty. “Friendships are always changing,” Liu said. “At one stage, a few of us may meet all the time. Later, some people get busy, and then you meet new friends. Over the years, the circle keeps changing.”

Tai Youqu now has around 10,000 registered users on its mini program and about 2,000 active participants. Monthly revenue has reached roughly 600,000 yuan.

Both clubs rely on social media to recruit members, promote events, and attract brands. Liu and Wu said they also occasionally collaborate with companies on advertising campaigns.

At Sparkly Lady, some members teach classes or recommend instructors, while Wu connects others, including Hou, with commercial work.

But the model remains difficult to replicate, in part because retirees’ preferences vary widely. “For this generation of middle-aged and older adults, you can’t treat them the same way you treat young people,” Wu said. “Young people all grew up together in the internet era. Older generations had very different experiences.”

Preferences also vary by region: Beijing members tend to favor exhibitions, while those in Guangdong are more drawn to fashion and food.

“The silver economy isn’t a trend or a fad. It’s a demographic reality,” Wu said. “The real question is whether we’ll be prepared for it — and whether we’ll still be around when it truly takes off.”

Last year, at a silver-economy forum in Guangzhou, Guangdong’s provincial capital, where Hou had been invited to speak, exhibitors filled the hall with shoes, health devices, medicines, and other products aimed at older consumers.

“We grew up singing ‘We Are the Successors of Communism’ and wearing the red scarves of the Young Pioneers,” she said. “Now that we’ve reached retirement age, it seems we’re still the protagonists.”

Looking across the booths, she added, “Our money is in our pockets. I don’t mind businesses making money from us — as long as they’re genuinely helping us.”

Editor: Apurva.

(Header image: Images courtesy of the interviewees; edited by Sixth Tone.)