At 78, Shanghai Grandma Stitches Haute Couture for Pets – and Stays Young at Heart

When her 14-year-old dog Biubiu fell seriously ill last month, the first thing 78-year-old Jin Pei did was to reach for her smartphone, open an AI assistant and ask what she should do.

For many people, that might seem unremarkable. But Jin is hardly a typical retiree. The Shanghai grandmother has taught herself to use artificial intelligence, shoot and edit videos, run social media accounts and interact with followers decades younger than herself. This year, she also stepped onto the runway at the 2026 Shanghai Pet Fashion Week – not as a model, but as a designer of haute couture for pets.

On a recent Saturday afternoon, inside a beautifully restored 96-year-old heritage building in downtown Shanghai, Jin sat quietly brushing Biubiu's fur.

"Easy... easy," she whispered.

The dog, still recovering from a serious illness, rested peacefully in her arms.

"I didn't shave her fur," Jin said. "I wanted her to get better. If I shaved it off, it would feel like shaving away my hope."

After grooming Biubiu, she selected a pair of handmade hair clips and dressed the dog in a tiny outfit she had designed herself, inspired by Italian luxury label Miu Miu.

For Jin, every stitch is an expression of affection.

Stitching love into every detail

Her story as a pet couturier began more than 40 years ago with heartbreak.

One winter in the 1980s, Jin took her dog outside believing its thick coat would keep it warm. Instead, the dog developed a dangerously high fever. In an era before the internet, she searched through the telephone directory until she finally located a veterinary hospital.

The veterinarian explained that sudden temperature changes – not just cold weather – could make dogs seriously ill, even if they had thick fur.

Looking for pet clothing, Jin found only poorly made garments.

"So I decided to make my own," Jin said.

Born into a scholarly Shanghai family, Jin grew up immersed in the city's tradition of bespoke tailoring. Her family regularly ordered custom-made clothing, and at the age of four, her grandmother taught her the intricate hemming technique that leaves no visible stitches on the outside of a garment.

Those standards still define her work today. She doesn't believe pet clothing should simply look cute. It must fit perfectly, feel comfortable and respect the animal's body.

Instead of sewing traditional buttonholes, she prefers snap fasteners that allow garments to be adjusted later. Every lining is made of soft cotton. Fabrics are selected according to the season. Decorative bows must be perfectly symmetrical. Stitch spacing must remain consistent throughout.

"I know what haute couture means," she said confidently.

The greatest challenge, she explained, is that every animal is different. Unlike people, pets have no standard sizing system. Over the past two decades, Jin has developed her own pattern-making method by studying the skeletal structure and muscle movement of different animals. Books on canine anatomy line her shelves.

Her clients have included hamsters, rabbits, chinchillas, sheep, Saint Bernards and even pet pigs.

One customer commissioned wedding outfits for 40 Bernese Mountain Dogs – including attire for the bride, groom, bridesmaids, groomsmen and guests.

During graduation season, she is busy making miniature academic gowns.

"There are bachelor's dogs, master's dogs and even PhD dogs," she laughed.

Asked why she never chose to make clothes for people, Jin's answer was immediate.

"People already have tailors," she said. "Animals don't."

More than fashion

Jin's love for animals extends far beyond clothing.

Flipping through old family photographs, she paused at one showing her father facing a white dog beside a Christmas tree. It was the first dog she had ever owned.

She had secretly brought the puppy home in a shoebox and hidden it for more than two months, afraid her father would object. But after the dog charmed his guests during a family gathering, her father accepted it wholeheartedly.

"My father became much warmer after living with that dog," she recalled with a laugh.

Years later, after her father passed away in hospital, the dog hid beneath the sofa for days, refusing to come out.

"It was grieving and became depressed," she said.

Today, Biubiu carries on that bond. Jin rescued the stray dog on Christmas Eve years ago. After extensive training, Biubiu worked as a therapy dog for nearly six years before retiring last autumn.

For Jin, therapy dogs represent more than companionship.

"If more stray dogs could become therapy dogs, perhaps they could find a place in society instead of being abandoned," she said. "People and animals heal each other."

To share that message, Jin taught herself everything from filming and editing videos to operating social media accounts. Most of her followers are between 25 and 40 years old.

"I don't feel any generation gap with young people," she said proudly. "Many of them can't believe I'm already 78."

Before saying goodbye, she offered an unexpected expression of gratitude.

"I'm thankful to young people," she said. "You've welcomed me like a friend. Because of you, I don't feel old. You make me feel like I still have many wonderful years ahead of me."