Babushkas and Bullsh*t: The Truth About China’s “Russian” Stores

Imagine this: you walk into a store plastered with Russian flags, matryoshka dolls lining the shelves, and bottles of vodka glowing like trophies under the lights. The air is thick with slogans like “Fighting Nation” and “Hardcore Products,” promising an authentic slice of Russia right here in China.

Except, well, it’s not.

Behind the blue-and-white façade, the “Russian” sausages might be made in China, the vodka could hail from Kazakhstan, and the “authentic” chocolates? They’ve probably never been within sniffing distance of a Russian winter.

Russian Stores, Made in China

Over the last few years, these so-called Russian convenience stores have mushroomed across China, fueled by clever branding and consumer curiosity. They promise exotic imports and a taste of Russia’s storied culture, from its iconic dolls to its infamous vodka.

But recently, regulators in cities like Shanghai and Beijing have started cracking down. Why? Because much of what these stores are selling isn’t Russian at all.

In Shanghai alone, officials recently took action against seven out of 47 Russian-themed shops. Some were fined or ordered to shut down; others had to slap disclaimers on their shelves, revealing that products advertised as Russian were actually made domestically.

A report from Jiemian News late last year peeled back the layers of this marketing matryoshka, finding that a significant chunk of goods in these stores—roughly 20%—were produced in China.

The kicker? Most of these shops aren’t even affiliated with Russia. They’re part of Chinese franchises sporting vaguely Russian-sounding names like EBiiXiong and Emanduo, using aesthetics borrowed from the Russian embassy’s officially sanctioned “Russian State Houses.”

Why the Hype?

To understand the allure of these stores, you have to rewind to early 2022. Back then, an e-commerce platform tied to the Russian embassy went viral on Chinese social media, racking up hundreds of thousands of followers in a day. The idea of buying Russian goods hit a nerve, and entrepreneurs across China saw an opportunity to cash in.

Since then, over 3,300 companies related to “Russian goods” have registered in China. And it’s not slowing down—25 new companies popped up in the first 10 days of 2025 alone.

The pitch to franchisees is straightforward: open a store, slap on some vaguely Russian branding, and watch the profits roll in. One promotional video even claimed a new Russian goods shop in Changsha pulled in 100,000 yuan (about $13,700) in just three days.

But as with most too-good-to-be-true stories, the cracks are starting to show. Consumers are calling these stores an “IQ tax”—a scam for the gullible.

Take “Russian mangoes,” a claim so absurd it became the butt of jokes on Chinese social media platform Xiaohongshu. One comment summed it up: “What were they even thinking?”

Regulators Step In

The backlash hasn’t gone unnoticed. Local regulators are now inspecting these stores, demanding clearer labeling and shutting down operations that can’t prove their products’ origins.

In Shanghai, one store hastily rebranded itself from “Russian Goods Store” to “Sino-Russian Mutual Trade Goods Store.” In Beijing, another shut its doors entirely after failing to provide import paperwork.

The crackdown highlights a growing tension between China’s appetite for foreign goods and the gray areas in its domestic retail market.

The Nostalgia Factor

Why do these stores attract customers in the first place? Part of it comes down to nostalgia. Older generations in China often have a soft spot for Russia, shaped by decades of political and cultural ties.

Deng Haoxian, a Ph.D. candidate researching Russian public diplomacy, explains: “That generation has a more favorable impression of Russia and relates more deeply to its national narratives.”

But even Deng couldn’t escape the irony. During fieldwork in Shenzhen, he discovered Russian goods stores selling products from Vietnam, Kazakhstan, and even Ukraine. One bottle of Munich beer stuck out like a sore thumb.

For most shoppers, though, these stores are a one-and-done experience—more about novelty than necessity.

The End of the Line?

The future of these Russian-themed shops looks murky. Curiosity may draw in first-time visitors, but repeat customers are harder to find. Many shoppers leave empty-handed, their hunger for “authenticity” unfulfilled.

Still, the stores cling to their appeal. Deng, for example, couldn’t resist stocking up on Russian-made liquor during his visit. As he paid, the cashier handed him a prize: a 50-ruble note, worth about 3.7 yuan.

If nothing else, these shops are a reminder of the power of branding—and the thin line between storytelling and straight-up fiction.

What This Means for America

While the story of “Russian” shops in China might seem like a hyper-local curiosity, it holds lessons for global markets. The ability to package foreign allure into sellable goods is universal. For American brands eyeing China’s consumer market, it’s a lesson in how authenticity—real or fabricated—can drive sales.

But it’s also a cautionary tale. The rapid rise and fall of these shops show how quickly consumer trust can erode when transparency isn’t part of the equation. For businesses in the U.S. and beyond, it’s a reminder that good marketing might sell the first product, but honesty is what keeps customers coming back.

In the end, whether it’s Russian sausage in Shanghai or an imported American steak in Beijing, one truth holds: people crave connection, and they’ll pay a premium for it. But if the story you’re selling doesn’t hold up, the market will eventually call your bluff.