The Ultimate Guide to the Football Kit

Origins - historical weight

From the late 19th century to the 1960s, kits were made of wool or thick woven cotton. Hardly breathable, they got heavier with sweat or rain. It was closer to workwear than performance gear.

Notable example: the 1950 World Cup kits (like Uruguay or Brazil), made from stiff fabric, with drooping sleeves and soft collars.

Historical collars

The first football kits (late 19th century – 1920s) featured collars inherited from shirtmaking. These shapes were as much linked to work shirts as to school uniforms. Key examples include :

• Stand collar / “colonel collar” : Straight and upright, with no fold-over, often fully buttoned up to the top, giving a military or school-like appearance. It reflected the influence of university sport and Victorian uniforms.

• Turn-down collar : A direct predecessor of the polo collar. Folded down, sometimes with a button placket or detachable fastening, it gave kits a semi-formal look, halfway between a shirt and a sports uniform. These collars were often made of cotton or wool, sometimes starched to stay crisp despite sweat.

• Lace-up collar : Featuring a split neckline tightened with a cord or lace. Inherited from naval tunics and rugby shirts, it historically allowed players to adjust the opening depending on the weather.

Dominant collars

• Polo collar : The classic. Buttoned (one, two, sometimes three buttons), it dominated from the 1950s to the 1990s. Associated with British elegance, it remains football’s “noble” collar. Polo players (the horseback sport) already wore soft turn-down collars, sometimes buttoned to avoid flapping in the wind. This idea inspired British sportswear and manufacturers from the 1920s–30s, especially in tennis (notably René Lacoste). It entered football mainly in the 1950s. Many variations exist: piped collars, buttoned collar tabs… In the early 90s, some brands even experimented with hybrids combining a polo collar over a V-neck base.

• Crew neck (round collar) : Its minimalist style gives it a functional look. It became dominant from the 1990s with the rise of technical kits. Today it is the most common collar used by manufacturers. It also exists in a crossed crew neck variation.

• V-neck : Simple and slightly more dressed than the crew neck. Very common in the 1980s–1990s, it returns in cycles. It can be plain or feature contrasting piping.

Rare collars

• Peter Pan collar : Inherited from early 20th-century shirts, it is defined by rounded edges that give it a distinctive elegance.

• Henley collar (or “tunisian collar”) : A round collar with a short buttoned placket, no fold-over. A middle ground between polo and crew neck, popular in the 1990s–2000s.

• Zip collar : Appeared in the 2000s, often on high-neck kits. The zip can be functional or purely aesthetic. It gives a more technical or sportswear look.

• Asymmetrical collar : Offset or diagonal neckline design. Emerging in the 2010s on more experimental kits, it is becoming increasingly common.

Each era has its own visual codes:

• 1970s–80s: the functional era
  Patterns are simple, almost utilitarian: monochrome, vertical stripes, or clean two-tone designs. Identity relies on club colors and, when present, a central motif (stripes, chevrons, sleeves, etc.). Ornamentation comes from logos and the sponsor, which gradually appears from the late 70s.
  
• 1990s: the graphic explosion
  The iconic decade. Kits become a space for expression: geometric patterns, gradients, 3D effects, color blocking, even psychedelic designs. Brands compete in boldness. What was kitsch then is now cult.
  
• 2000s: industrial standardisation
  A return to simplicity and symmetry, driven by global templates (Nike, Adidas, Puma): the same design applied across multiple national teams, and sometimes clubs.
  
• 2010s–today: the era of visual storytelling
  Kits tell cultural or identity-driven stories: references to football history, music, cities… Brands remix nostalgia, with the 90s archive often serving as inspiration.
  
• Today, kit design has become a key form of expression in football: it builds narratives, creates coherent visual identities, and extends into fashion (collabs, streetwear, etc.).
  

Embroidery vs heat transfer:
Embroidery symbolizes textile nobility: texture, durability, a “player-grade” shirt. In contrast, heat transfer (or printing) prioritizes lightness and mass production efficiency.

Logos:
A modern kit carries at least three symbols: club, manufacturer, sponsor. To these are sometimes added competition patches (Champions League, domestic cups) and commemorative logos (anniversaries, special editions).

Hidden details:

Designers compete in subtlety: embroidered quotes inside the collar, heritage symbols under the crest, maps, mottos, flags, tributes to club history or supporters. These “secrets” become markers of belonging, strengthening the emotional bond between fans and the shirt.

A kit sponsor is not just a financial asset: it has ended up reshaping football’s visual identity itself.

Before the 1970s

Blank kits. Until the late 1960s, federations banned any commercial branding on official shirts. Kits remained visually pure: only the club or national crest mattered. A legacy still visible in so-called “retro” or “heritage” shirts.

1973: the birth of an era

Eintracht Braunschweig became the first professional club to display a sponsor, Jägermeister, after a legal battle with the German federation. This turning point opened the door to sponsor integration in German leagues, and then across Europe, as regulations eased in the 1980s.

1980s–2000s

An economic and graphic symbiosis. The sponsor becomes a cultural symbol as much as an economic actor. Some club-brand pairings became iconic:
Sharp × Manchester United, Opel × AC Milan, Sony × Juventus, Pirelli × Inter, Jurassic Park × Martigues, Carlsberg × Liverpool.

The sponsor logo becomes part of the club’s visual identity, sometimes more memorable than the kit itself. However, this era is also marked by a lack of regulation: sponsors assert their own colours, often clashing with the club’s palette, while their size and quantity are frequently criticised.

Since the 2010s

Sponsor logos are now more integrated into kit design (colour, placement). The current era shows a more distant emotional relationship with partners. Everyday consumer brands have been replaced by finance, trading, and digital platforms. The sponsor is no longer (as much of) a local marker, but an indicator of global economic power. The symbolic link between club and community continues to fade.

Printing is the player’s DNA

• First introduced in England in 1928 and at the World Cup in 1954, the number has become hierarchical and narrative-driven (the creative 10, the goal-scoring 9, the goalkeeper 1).
• The addition of player names on shirts became standard in the mid-1990s, for both national teams and clubs. The name creates a personal connection: every printed “Baggio”, “Zidane”, or “Yamal” carries a story.
• This practice became widespread in major international and domestic competitions with the 1994 FIFA World Cup in the United States (but not Brazil).

Typography as a signature

• Typefaces can be Bauhaus-inspired, rounded, bold, gothic, digital… they often reflect a club’s aesthetic or its era.
• Since the 1974 World Cup, Adidas has demonstrated its rational design approach and its ability to shape football’s visual history through typography, first on numbers and later on player names.
• Some clubs develop proprietary typefaces in collaboration with their kit supplier (e.g. PSG and Jordan).
  In some cases.
• Typography is even imposed by leagues.

In the age of mass marketing, authenticity has become a key marker for fans and collectors. They hunt down “match-worn” shirts as if they were works of art. And of course, an entire vintage kit economy has emerged on platforms like Vinted, eBay, or specialised websites such as Classic Football Shirts, Cult Kits, etc.

A kit can hold a memory or a moment from someone’s life. It is inherently subjective and often deeply personal. For many, the attachment is not to the product itself but to what it represents (their first shirt, a childhood idol, or even a family connection).

In a standardized world, the football shirt remains a last reliquary of authentic emotion. It can also be political—at times in Palestine, Chile, or Ireland, or even within certain ultra stands in Europe. But beyond everything, the kit remains a social marker:

• For an ultra, it is sometimes set aside in favour of anonymity in the stand.

• For a fan, it becomes Sunday wear or a collector’s piece.

• For blokecore, it is an outfit to stand out by day and night (even without being able to name a single player who wore it).

• For fashion, it is both an inspiration and a field of experimentation (cf. Off-White x Milan, Palace x Juve, 3.Paradis x PSG).

Even without a crystal ball, the kit of tomorrow will most likely combine more technology with more storytelling.

On the technical side, the idea of connected garments measuring performance in real time without external sensors seems increasingly close. This intelligent second skin could also change the way football is watched, with real-time data integrated into the viewing experience.

On the design and storytelling side, the era is one of symbolism and community identity. If pushing this narrative further becomes more complex, perhaps new, lighter and more original stories will emerge to reshape the way we look at this cult object.

A kit can be analysed from every angle: fabric, design, sponsor, printing, emotion. But the ultimate kit does not lie in objectivity. The ultimate kit is the one that makes your heart beat a little faster. Sometimes, it’s just a modest piece of fabric, poorly stitched, but it holds the goal of a summer night, the name of a player idolised at nine years old, or the identity of a club that shaped you.

This guide won’t help you choose between Boca 2001 and Arsenal 2006, but it reminds you why each of these shirts has the right to be “ultimate” for someone.