From Streetfights to Streetwear: How a BJJ Gi Got Me Into Heritage Fashion

BJJ is the fighting style of folding clothes with people still in them.

It’s like meditation but with breaking bones and strangulations, which many people find therapeutic. It’s a pajama party but with a rugged, abrasive suit called a gi.

When you step into a BJJ gym, you see modern padded floors and walls, air-conditioned spaces, and friendly coaches wearing an outfit that has barely changed in centuries. Likewise, the names of many techniques are from the languages of their original developers. This is to pay homage to the founders in Japan and Brazil, and while it confuses the hell out of new people, it also sets a standard language and tone.

The gi blends utility with cultural heritage — much like heritage workwear, which retains its rugged roots while evolving for modern use. In contrast with fast-fashion, heritage fashion is built to be durable and based on fits and iconic staples of the past.

It can be vintage inspired, but that doesn’t mean it is a stagnant aesthetic. Collaborations between brands and dead-stock reissues are a frequent source of renewed interest for fans of the look.

In BJJ, the gi becomes a lesson in practicality and quality. I remember wearing a cheap gi, whose abrasive fabric felt like sandpaper against my skin. When my training partner gripped the pants at the knee, the roughness made me tap out — not to a submission, but to the fabric itself.

Clothes should be an asset, not a liability. A poorly made gi can betray you: jackets pop open, requiring constant adjustment; seams fray under stress; and gripping an inferior jacket can pinch your skin or strain your ligaments when someone forcefully strips your grip.

A bad gi can genuinely risk injury, much like flimsy boots or poorly tailored trousers can fail in critical moments.  

Why You’re Learning the Word “Skeuomorph”

The Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ) gi could be considered a skeuomorph, depending on how we interpret the concept.

A skeuomorph is a design element that retains features of a previous functional object even when those features are no longer necessary. For example, fake stitching on plastic goods mimics actual stitching on leather items, your computer’s save icon is a floppy disk, and your phone’s speech-to-text icon is a 1940s standing microphone.

The gi in BJJ reflects this idea. Its historical origin is rooted in traditional Japanese martial arts uniforms, such as the keikogi, which were designed for durability and ease of movement during practice. The continued use of the gi in BJJ reflects the influence of Judo and other Japanese arts, even though modern BJJ could be practiced without it, as in no-gi grappling.

No-gi grapplers wear a rash guard and shorts, an outfit derived from the surfing culture of Brazil. While the gi serves specific purposes in BJJ, such as grip fighting and simulating clothing in self-defense, these purposes are somewhat divorced from its original intent in traditional Japanese martial arts.

That said, the gi isn’t purely decorative. It plays an essential functional role. The gi could be seen as a functional skeuomorph, blending practical use with cultural heritage, much like other martial arts traditions. Gripping the sleeves, collar, or jacket skirt enables specific techniques, such as squid guard, lapel guard, or lasso guard, which are integral to the practice. 

What the Gi Means for Menswear

BJJ’s practical demands and cultural nuances align it with heritage menswear in unexpected ways. Both celebrate durability, function, and timeless design. The constant laundry required for gi maintenance makes practitioners clothes-conscious. Over years of training, we invest in quality gear that lasts, much like how heritage menswear enthusiasts prioritize well-made garments. 

We also size each other up constantly to prepare for competition within weight classes, which teaches an awareness of fit and body types beyond our own. At the gym, conversations often extend beyond BJJ techniques to which BJJ clothes brands to buy.

I’ve also had several conversations about boots like Thursday, Red Wing, and Wolverine in the locker room. You get all types in the gym: from guys wearing Levis to Naked and Famous to Triple Aught Design to Pure Blue Japan to Proof from Huckberry. I’ve seen people wearing Breitlings, G-Shocks, Omegas, Panerai, Rolexes, Seikos, Tutors, and Zeniths for watches.

This meticulous mindset for gear spills into other domains, creating a natural bridge between BJJ and heritage menswear.

Empty Homogenous Time

Both the traditional uniforms of BJJ and much of the aesthetic of heritage menswear remind me of the concept of “empty homogenous time,” which refers to the measurable and linear notion of time associated with modernity.

It is “empty” because it is not filled with the unique, recurring events of pre-modern times. It is “homogeneous” because every moment is equal, allowing for synchronizing events across vast distances.

Don Quixote dressed as a knight when the role was obsolete, much as men today emulate James Bond. Heritage menswear draws heavily on traditional styles, fabrics, and tailoring techniques. Still, it does so within a framework of modern linear time, where the past becomes a curated resource rather than a living, imposed tradition.

These tools helped create the sense of a shared, simultaneous present, making it possible for people to imagine themselves as part of a community:

1. Classic fashion

Heritage menswear emphasizes craftsmanship and traditional methods. Brands promote the idea that wearing heritage styles connects the individual to a rich, shared history but styled in a “modern” frame.

Their origins (workwear from the Industrial Revolution or military uniforms) are abstracted away. Items that may have been mass-produced are today released in small batches called “drops.” Many BJJ brands also sell clothes in drops.

2. Imagining a Community

The heritage menswear aesthetic constructs an imagined community of wearers who value quality, tradition, and timeless style. We imagine skilled modern artisans earning a living wage in small businesses and not the unfair and unsafe labor practices of the 19^th and 20^th-century textile factories.

Heritage menswear shoppers seek ethical and sustainable brands, a far cry from the industry’s heritage. You find urban office workers dressed like cowboys, coal miners, loggers, motorcyclists, or spies—figures whose peak eras have passed but whose styles persist.

3. Global and Temporal Presentism

Empty homogeneous time allows heritage menswear to combine influences from disparate times and places into a cohesive aesthetic. Disparate cultures are cherrypicked of their unique historical and cultural contexts into a modern fashion statement.

This new outfit or “fit” is an anachronism. I don’t imagine a 1940s American biker would shop for a Japanese-made US Air Force jacket while wearing a luxury Swiss watch.

The Overlap

Heritage menswear incorporates pieces from the 1800s to the 1950s, blending workwear with smart business casual to evoke a masculine image that may not have ever existed.

Similarly, the BJJ gi reflects its origins as a commoner’s outfit in 1870s Japan. Early karategis were modeled after firefighters’ humble yet sturdy attire, embodying function over adornment. The BJJ gi and heritage menswear share a philosophy of durability and timelessness. Both speak to a commitment to quality and the enduring value of functional design.

Material parallels abound. The heavyweight cotton twill of gi pants mirrors the durable fabrics used in chinos or denim. Ripstop fabrics, popular in military-inspired menswear, also appear in lightweight gis.

Just as denim aficionados discuss ounces, gi makers use GSM (grams per square meter) to describe fabric weight. A loose-weave gi offers breathability, much like a summer-weight flannel. By contrast, the stiffness of a heavier gi feels akin to breaking in raw denim. Judo’s gi, which involves more grip fights and slams, is thicker than a BJJ gi; think of 25oz denim rather than 14oz denim. 

Does what works in the gym also work in the streets? Is it practical? Dependable? Can you hold it to the highest possible standard? Is it flashy? Did you “absorb what is useful, discard what is not, add what is uniquely your own?”

In the gym, we talk about perfecting our “game,” meaning our personal move set. Your game is the product of your competencies, informed by your style. In the gym and competitions, you are judged by your game; in fashion, we are judged by our “fit,” but each is a form of style.

I’ve met more men in the gym who have style than outside the gym. As Charles Bukowski famously said: “Style is the difference, a way of doing, a way of being done.”