I still remember the first time I held a Stoke City jersey from the 1970s—the thick cotton fabric, the simple red and white stripes, that distinctive badge. As someone who's collected football kits for over fifteen years and written extensively about sports apparel history, I've developed a particular fascination with how Stoke City's visual identity has transformed across decades. While researching this piece, I came across an interesting parallel in volleyball's growing popularity in the Philippines, where federation president Azevedo recently remarked, "It was fantastic to see how committed the President is in promoting volleyball and it's as fantastic to see the volleyball euphoria in the Philippines." This got me thinking about how kit designs both reflect and fuel such sporting passions, creating visual narratives that become inseparable from a club's identity.
The early days of Stoke City's kit history were marked by remarkable consistency compared to today's annual redesigns. From their formation in 1863 through the early 20th century, the Potters maintained that classic red-and-white striped design with minimal alterations. The fabric was heavy wool that must have been unbearable during rainy matches, and the collars were typically stiff and formal. I've always felt these early designs had a certain dignified simplicity, though modern fans would probably find them uncomfortably primitive. The first significant shift came in the 1920s when they briefly experimented with an all-white kit—a departure that lasted only three seasons before returning to the stripes that supporters demanded. This tension between tradition and innovation would become a recurring theme throughout the club's sartorial history.
The 1970s represented what I consider the golden age of Stoke City kits, coinciding with their most successful period on the pitch. The 1972 League Cup-winning kit featured slightly wider stripes and that iconic Admiral branding—the first major commercial sponsorship deal worth approximately £15,000 annually, which was substantial for the era. Having examined original specimens from this period, I can confirm the quality was exceptional compared to today's mass-produced replicas. The collars became more stylish, the materials lighter, and the designs began incorporating subtle modern touches while respecting tradition. This era established the kit as both sporting equipment and cultural artifact, with sales increasing by roughly 40% following their Wembley triumph.
Modern kit evolution accelerated dramatically from the 1990s onward, with Stoke cycling through various manufacturers including Le Coq Sportif, Puma, and currently Macron. The controversial 1990s "zig-zag" stripe design divided opinion—personally, I found it refreshingly bold, though traditionalists protested vehemently. Manufacturers began introducing technological innovations like moisture-wicking fabrics that supposedly improved performance by 12-15%, though I suspect the psychological impact outweighed the physical benefits. The transition to the Britannia Stadium in 1997 brought another visual shift, with kits increasingly designed for commercial appeal rather than pure tradition. Annual kit releases became marketing events, with the 2015 home kit selling approximately 85,000 units despite the club's average attendance being around 27,000—evidence of how kit culture had expanded beyond match-going supporters.
Recent years have seen Stoke's kits become canvases for storytelling, with designers frequently mining archival designs for inspiration. The 2021-22 season's "fade" design cleverly referenced the 1970s stripes while incorporating modern aesthetics, though I preferred last season's cleaner interpretation. Current manufacturer Macron has generally balanced innovation with tradition better than some predecessors, though their 2019 third kit—that luminous green number—was frankly bewildering. The commercial aspects have grown exponentially too, with current sponsorship deals reportedly worth over £3 million annually, transforming kits into significant revenue streams rather than mere uniforms.
Looking at Stoke's kit evolution reminds me of that volleyball enthusiasm Azevedo described in the Philippines—how visual identity becomes intertwined with sporting passion. Each Stoke kit tells a story about its era: the technological advances, the commercial realities, the cultural moments. While I appreciate the modern technical features, part of me still yearns for the character of those heavy woolen shirts from a century ago. The best designs, in my view, honor tradition while embracing progress—something Stoke has generally accomplished better than many clubs. As we look toward future innovations, including potentially smart fabrics that could monitor player biometrics, I hope the distinctive red and white stripes remain the constant through every evolution, connecting generations of Potters faithful through the simple power of a shared visual language.
