The Complete History of Gramicci, Rock Climbing's Original Dirtbag Brand

Some of the most notable names among the Stonemasters include Jim Bridwell, the group’s leader; John Long, who documented the crew; John Bachar, known for his fearless free soloing; Ron Kauk, who helped raise awareness of free climbing in Yosemite; Rick Accomazzo, an original member of the Southern California scene; Lynn Hill, a pioneer in women’s climbing; Dean Fidelman, who photographed the group; Dale Bard; Tobin Sorenson, Gib Lewis and, of course, Mike Graham.

The unofficial initiation into the group was a successful climb of Valhalla, a technical 5.11a trad route at Suicide Rock in Idyllwild, California, a test that helped solidify the group’s reputation in the evolving climbing scene. By 1973, many of the crew had migrated to Yosemite Valley, where they lived out of VW buses—sleeping and, at times, hiding from park rangers behind drawn curtains to avoid scrutiny over their hippie ways and appearance. Speaking of appearances, the group definitely had a uniform: baggy sailor pants and a swami belt—a length of webbing wrapped around the waist and tied in a knot, which also served as the tie-in point for a rope.

The Yosemite years produced some of Graham's defining moments. In 1974, at just 17 years old, he teamed up with 18-year-olds Gib Lewis and Rick Accomazzo to make the second-ever clean ascent of Half Dome. At the time, European climbers were earning attention for nationalized first ascents—the first French ascent of El Cap, for example—so the trio jokingly declared theirs the "First Italian Ascent" despite none of them being Italian. Accomazzo was Italian-American, which was close enough for the punchline, and Graham adopted the alter ego "Michelangelo Gramicci." The nickname spread through the Yosemite climbing community and stuck. What began as a campfire joke among friends became one of climbing's most recognizable brand names.

A Fake Name Becomes a Real Brand

As his obsession deepened, Graham climbed with only the bare essentials: shoes and pants, often going shirtless for a tan, embodying a surfer’s carefree mindset. It was through big wall climbing that he learned how to properly use gear, eventually leading him to start Gramicci Products, the first iteration of his eponymous company. Among the first items he created were big wall accessories. He made haul bags and belay seats—at the time, he didn’t believe in harnesses, preferring lightweight webbing seats similar to a bosun’s chair, adapted for climbing.

In 1977, when he was 21, Graham started making custom products for people, including portaledges and alpine backpacks. He used them for the second and first continuous ascent of Son of Heart on El Cap and the second ascent of Horse Chute. These early products sparked his interest in sewing, a skill he learned from his mother. Meanwhile, his father, an architect who built high-rises, would take him to job sites during the summer. It was there that Graham’s design ethos took shape: approaching clothing like architecture and engineering, with a focus on function and thoughtful construction.

With Graham embedded in a world-renowned climbing crew, he regularly crossed paths with people who would later shape the outdoor apparel industry. One of them was Yvon Chouinard. The two met before Patagonia was Patagonia, in the late '70s—back when Chouinard was still just a backyard blacksmith, and his company was called Chouinard Equipment. They’d run into each other everywhere from Yosemite to the French Alps, where they'd talk climbing and they'd talk tinkering.

At some point, Chouinard caught wind that Graham had been sewing and designing early versions of what we now know as portaledges. After a day climbing in Yosemite, Chouinard told Graham over a beer that if he ever wanted to set up a sewing shop in Ventura, he’d send some business his way. Six months later, Graham found himself in Arkansas with his parents, working construction, but he was itching to get back out West. So in 1978, he gathered up a few sewing machines, loaded them into his Volkswagen van, and, with his girlfriend at the time, headed to Ventura. Unannounced, he showed up on Chouinard's doorstep to see if he would make good on his offer.

Chouinard stayed true to his word and helped him get set up. Graham worked as a contractor for Chouinard Equipment and began running a sewing shop where he made harnesses and backpacks. As Chouinard’s brand took off, Graham also started producing clothing for Patagonia. When he eventually launched Gramicci Products, the focus was initially on portaledges—but he soon realized the next logical step was creating a proper climbing pant.

Back then, Patagonia made its pants from a heavy canvas that felt restrictive and lacked the flexibility needed for movement on the wall. Graham and the rest of the Stonemasters climbed with a kind of high-octane athleticism, but weren't interested in the potential of stretch fabrics like Lycra. In 1980, Graham started working on his own clothing and set out to design a woven pant that could handle dynamic movement, something you could actually high-step in without feeling boxed in.

A New Type of Climbing Pant

In 1982, when Graham founded Gramicci, he gave the climbing world a much-needed wardrobe intervention. The now-iconic G-Short, which came first, and the Gramicci Pant weren’t born in some pristine manufacturing facility, but in Graham’s garage in Oxnard. Like most great ideas, they came together through trial and error.

The origin story is peak dirtbag ingenuity. One of Graham’s climbing buddies, John Bachar, was scaling rock faces in Gold Dragon karate pants because they were roomy, flexible, and cinched at the waist with a drawstring. At the same time, Graham was working at Patagonia, designing jackets and underwear. Pants, oddly enough, weren’t part of the plan. But the gears were already turning. He’d been experimenting with underarm gussets in sweatshirts so climbers could reach overhead without restriction, a concept that sparked his now-famous “Freedom of Movement” philosophy.

Borrowing construction techniques from tent panels and sailmaking, Graham reworked the silhouette. He added a diamond-shaped gusset for full 180-degree flexibility—effectively inventing the gusseted crotch in activewear—beefed up the fabric, added a one-handed adjustable webbing belt with a backpack-style buckle, and included cuffs for better visibility while climbing. The Gramicci Pant was born, a silhouette that rapidly went from dojo-adjacent to Yosemite-approved.

Mike Graham climbing Pirate's Cove in Corona del Mar in the 1970s | Photo by Rick Accomazzo

Graham knew the early G-Pant prototype needed refining for actual climbing. He streamlined the fit so it wasn’t overly baggy, removed the cuffs, and straightened the leg. The durable cotton-twill fabric was tough enough to withstand chalk-covered sessions and casual enough for post-climb beers with friends. Unintentionally, that balance between function and everyday wear officially pushed Gramicci into lifestyle-brand territory.

Once the design was locked in, Graham moved production to a contract shop with a small group of reliable sewers. The woman responsible for the original G-Pant pattern drafted the first template by hand on hard paper, and the team worked from that for quite some time. Graham approached manufacturing with the same obsessive energy he brought to climbing, eventually adopting CAD systems in 1984 to create markers digitally, a forward-thinking move for the era.

In Gramicci’s early days, the brand kept things simple. Winter meant black; summer meant white. When color options expanded, the palette stayed grounded in earthy blues, greens, browns, and khakis. It wasn’t until the brand found a devoted audience in Japan that Gramicci began experimenting with louder shades like tie-dye, lime green, and hot pink. As it turned out, the brighter colors were functional, too—you could actually spot climbers high up on the rock face. Ever concerned with expanding the possibility of what a climber could do, in 1983, coinciding with the release of G-Shorts and Gramicci Pants, Graham began importing Calzados Boreal S.L (Boreal for short) Fires from Spain, introducing the first sticky climbing shoes to the California climbing community.

Breaking Down Gramicci's Iconic Pants and Shorts

Although Gramicci has expanded into full ready-to-wear collections, its pants remain the brand’s true bread and butter. They’re so good, in fact, that many of them are also made in short form. The G-Short is what turned the climbing label into a full-fledged clothing brand, and it was followed by the Gramicci Pant, featuring the same cut, fit, and heavy cotton-canvas twill they’re still beloved for today.

While the G-Short and Gramicci Pant were revolutionary thanks to their 180-degree gusseted flexibility, they also laid the groundwork for the Nylon Packable G-Short. Instead of the cotton-canvas twill built for bouldering, these are designed for the water, similar to Patagonia's famous Baggies, made with water-repellent nylon and fully packable construction that makes them easy to toss into a tote.

Next in the brand’s cult-followed lineup is the Gadget Pant (also available in shorts). It has a more relaxed, wider fit throughout and sits a bit shorter than the G-Pant. It still uses that trusty cotton-canvas twill, but with wraparound pockets that extend from the front to the back, giving it a cargo-style feel that remains discreet.

Although Gramicci was stylistically embraced by Japan in the early ’90s, the NN Pant Cropped, designed there in 2015, proved especially significant. It features all the traditional Gramicci-coded details—the gusseted crotch, built-in belt, climbing DNA—but with a more contemporary slim silhouette. It comes in the brand’s typical cotton-canvas twill with just a hint of stretch for mobility, and its inseam is one of the shortest in Gramicci’s lineup.

From California to Japan

Gramicci’s foundation was rooted in the countercultural chaos of the climbing scene, chalk dust, and pants that actually let you move. But by the early ’90s, something unexpected was brewing across the Pacific: a stylish subculture in Japan had adopted the brand, eventually helping steer it into the Japanese-led force it is today.

Back home, the brand was thriving on its own terms. By 1998, Gramicci had become REI's best-selling brand outside of the retailer's own private label. A year later, the company was generating $27 million in annual sales, proof that what began as a niche climbing label had become a major force in the outdoor industry.

Courtesy Gramicci

Enter BEAMS, the Harajuku-based retail juggernaut with a sixth sense for spotting cool. In the 1990s, buyer Hiroshi Kubo (of International Gallery/BEAMS Boy) was making regular trips to the U.S. for outdoor trade shows in Salt Lake City, digging through the cultural crates for his casual division. Somewhere between surf shops and skate spots, he clocked people wearing G-Pants, often paired with Birkenstocks, with the kind of laid-back nonchalance usually reserved for flip-flops and bad decisions.

Kubo saw what others didn’t: this wasn’t just functional climbing gear; it was a vibe. While Americans largely treated Gramicci like a tool (gear for scaling rocks), Kubo envisioned something bigger. Run it through BEAMS’ fashion-forward filter, and suddenly those same pants weren’t just practical; they were intentional. And he was right.

The brand weathered financial struggles, licensing agreements, and multiple restructurings throughout the mid-2000s and 2010s, ultimately leading to a change in ownership. In 2017, Gramicci changed hands again, officially relocating to Japan under the ownership of Itochu Corporation, which had previously held the brand's Japanese license.

A Dirtbag Brand's Modern Era

At some point, the perspective flipped. Japan didn’t just adopt Gramicci—they reinterpreted it, refined it, and sent it back with better taste. The move globalized the brand as well as reframed it. What was made for climbing walls is equally at home in a coffee shop, at a gallery opening, wherever. Today, Gramicci's collaboration roster reads like a who’s-who of globally minded outdoor and streetwear brands—Converse, Merrell, Rab Equipment, Adsum, Helinox—but many of its most compelling partnerships are Japan-led: Nanga, Sophnet., Neighborhood, BEAMS, nonnative, White Mountaineering, and wander. The list goes on. Taken together, those collaborations underscore Gramicci's rare ability to move between the realms of technical outdoor gear and fashion without feeling like it's chasing trends, a testament to the cultural cachet the brand and its products have earned over the decades.

Courtesy Gramicci

While many founder-led brands lose their identity after changing hands, Gramicci has largely avoided that fate. The company has continued to build on the values Graham established—functional design, climbing heritage, and a laid-back outdoor ethos—rather than treating them as marketing nostalgia. Combined with its deep roots in Japanese fashion culture and a steady stream of thoughtful collaborations, that authenticity has helped Gramicci evolve without abandoning the qualities that made it unique in the first place. That's why, four decades after its inception, it has become as relevant in contemporary menswear as it was among the much smaller cadre of obsessed rock climbers whose exploits inspired its creation.

As for Mike Graham, he left Gramicci In 1999. He founded the climbing apparel brand ROKX the following year, and followed it up with another apparel brand called STONEMASTER in 2007. In 2009, he founded Stonemaster Books, through which he has published titles about the iconic era of rock climbing that he helped define. He still lives in Southern California.