The Jiujitsu Brand That Wants You to Feel Like Yourself on the Mat
There's a moment that every jiujitsu practitioner knows.
You've been training for a while. You've survived the part where you didn't know what was happening to you. You've tapped hundreds of times and come back anyway. The mat has become, quietly, the place you feel most like yourself — more than the office, more than the party, more than most places life puts you.
And then you look down at what you're wearing and it doesn't match any of that.
It's fine gear. Technically sound. Just — blank. The gear of someone who hasn't decided yet. And you have decided. You've been deciding, rep by rep, for years.
That gap between who you are on the mat and what you're wearing on it — that's the problem All Around exists to close.
All Around doesn't release colorways. It builds worlds.
Hard to Love. Easy to Submit. is a late-night tattoo parlor. Cream Pearl weave, gothic red type, ink-drawn doves circling a rose. You wear this to training and you're telling a story before the first grip. The black version exists too — Easy to Love. Hard to Submit. — the same punchline from the other side, because contradictions are more honest than certainties.
Breathe Slow, Break Fast. is a different room entirely. Bright blue, lightning bolts, eagle wings down the sleeves, metal-band typography that belongs on a concert wall. You wear this and the warm-up feels different. You carry the energy of the world you stepped into.
Burn Quiet. Finish Loud. is groovy and dangerous. Psychedelic flames on peach fabric, a sun on the pants, the kind of visual language that makes people look twice and then look again. The black version is the same fire with the lights off — white thread, dark fabric, something burning under the surface.
One M/W Army dressed the mat like a military ceremony. Black gi, red and gold trim down the sleeves, the kind of detail that makes you wonder what occasion they designed it for. The answer is: yours.
The point isn't the design itself. The point is what happens when the design is right. When you've been wearing the same thing as everyone else for years and then you put something on that finally looks like the version of yourself you feel when you're rolling — when the gear understands the player — something shifts. You stand differently. You move like you belong there. Which you always did. But now it shows.
Jiujitsu is inherently expressive. Your game is yours — nobody else moves exactly the way you do, attacks from exactly your angles, defends with exactly your timing. The practice is deeply personal even when it's two people tangled up together.
The gear, historically, has not matched that.
All Around starts from the premise that someone who trains five days a week and has built their identity around this sport deserves to look like it. Not intimidating. Not trying-too-hard. Just expressive. Just wearing something that's been made for a person with a point of view.
That person is confident because they're not apologizing for the gear. They're playful because the gear itself is — it has a sense of humor (the fundamentals line includes a gi called Chaotic Kickfury, and another called Carnival Capoeira, and the copy for the Killswitch says we both know that intimidation is more effective when whispered). They're themselves, in a way that's easy to underestimate until you experience the alternative.
Feeling right in your gear is not vanity. It's the mat taking care of all of you, not just the technical part.
Here's something the jiujitsu gear industry has quietly avoided for years: most people don't fit standard sizing.
Not because there's something wrong with them. Because standard sizing was designed around an average body, and jiujitsu people — who train hard, build specific muscle groups, come in every shape and height — are almost never average in the ways that matter for a gi.
Someone who's broad in the shoulders but shorter than the standard A2 assumes. Someone who needs a different size on top than on the bottom. Someone who's trained for years in a gi that fits well enough but has always been a half-size off, and just accepted it as part of the deal.
All Around does something that no other jiujitsu brand bothers to do: offers more sizes than anyone else in the category, lets you mix and match tops and bottoms independently, and for the athletes who need it — offers full custom sizing, built to your exact measurements.
This is the in-house manufacturing argument made practical. When you control the making, you can make things that fit actual humans instead of the human the spreadsheet assumes. You can cut a gi for someone who's been told for years that their body is the wrong shape for the sport. You can make the gear accommodate the athlete, instead of asking the athlete to accommodate the gear.
It's a technical decision. It's also a statement about who the brand is for.
The gear looks the way it does — and fits the way it does — for one reason: All Around makes everything in-house.
This sounds like a production detail. It isn't. It's the reason any of this is possible.
When you outsource gear to a factory that's been making the same gi for twenty years, you inherit their constraints. Their standard patterns. Their minimum order quantities. Their resistance to anything that hasn't been done before. The factory is optimized for efficient production of things that already exist, not for the first version of something that doesn't.
Making it yourself means the people who design the gear are the people who build it. It means when someone decides that a particular olive green is the right color — not any olive green, that one — the conversation doesn't end with a vendor saying no. It ends with finding the right fabric and starting the work.
It means a rib cage can be embroidered onto a sleeve instead of printed because someone decided that was right, and there was no meeting to sit through to get permission.
You can't outsource greatness. Not because other factories don't have skill — many do — but because greatness requires a kind of stubbornness about the details that only survives when the people who care about it are also the people executing it.
Every unusual size. Every embroidered detail. Every world that gets built, drop by drop — it's possible because the whole chain is short, and the standards are the maker's own.
This is the line at the bottom of the page, small and easy to miss.
Not train to win. Not dominate the mats. Not the aggressive language of performance gear that wants you to feel like you're preparing for something serious.
Play to keep playing.
This is who All Around makes gear for. The practitioners who've been training for years and will be training for years more — not because they're chasing a belt or a podium (though some are) — but because the mat is where they go to feel most like themselves. Because the practice gives them something that the rest of life doesn't always. Because they've discovered, one rolled morning at a time, that this is just part of who they are now.
Those people deserve gear that understands them. That looks like them. That was made with the same kind of care they bring to their training.
That's what's being built here. Drop by drop. World by world.
One gi at a time, for the person who knows exactly who they are when they step on the mat — and wants to look like it.
Find your world.