Before hoodies became the uniform of skateboarders, students, and tech billionaires, they were designed for people whose job description included “don’t freeze to death.” In the 1930s, the American sportswear company Champion (then called Knickerbocker Knitting Company) created the first hooded sweatshirt to keep laborers warm in frigid warehouses and outdoor jobs. The hoodie’s journey from industrial workwear to cultural icon is a tale of practicality beating pomp—with a side of rebellious flair.
The original hoodie was all function, no fashion. Champion added a hood to a standard sweatshirt to shield workers from cold drafts in unheated storage facilities. The kangaroo pocket? A place to warm hands or stash tools. The thick cotton blend? Durability over style. Even the term “hoodie” didn’t exist yet; it was just “hooded sweatshirt,” a utilitarian garment for people who spent hours loading trucks or chopping ice.
By the 1970s, hoodies escaped the warehouse. High school athletes adopted them for warmth during practice, and boxers wore them to stay loose before fights. But the hoodie’s big break came via 1980s hip-hop culture. Rappers like Run-D.M.C. and LL Cool J turned the hoodie into a symbol of streetwise cool, pairing it with gold chains and Adidas sneakers. Suddenly, a garment meant for blue-collar grit was dripping with urban swagger.
The hoodie’s rebellious reputation peaked in the 1990s. Skaters and punk bands embraced its anti-establishment vibe, while tech startups (looking at you, Zuckerberg) later rebranded it as a uniform for “casual genius.” But let’s not forget its roots: NASA ordered custom hoodies for astronauts in the 1960s, proving even rocket scientists need to stay cozy.
Today, hoodies are a $20 billion global industry, with luxury brands selling them for more than a warehouse worker’s weekly wage. Yet, the design remains virtually unchanged—testament to Champion’s no-nonsense vision. The hood still blocks wind, the cuffs still trap heat, and the pocket still holds snacks. Some things, it seems, are too practical to improve.
So, next time you zip up your hoodie, thank a 1930s warehouse worker. They braved the cold so you could look effortlessly cool at the grocery store. And if anyone calls your hoodie “lazy,” remind them it was born from hard labor—and outlasted fedoras, corsets, and every other trend that dared to take itself too seriously. After all, true style doesn’t freeze.
