I remember the first time I saw someone wearing Trapstar.

It wasn’t in a shop.
It wasn’t in a magazine.
It was outside Morley’s, on a grey Thursday in West London.
Black puffer. Hood up. “It’s A Secret” on the back in that bold red type — like a warning and a promise at the same time.

He walked different. Like he knew something we didn’t.
Like he had something the rest of us were still chasing.

From that moment, I knew: Trapstar wasn’t just clothing. It was a code.

No Hype, Just Heart

I never had the money for designer growing up. Stone Island? Maybe on payday.
LV? Out of the question.
But Trapstar? That felt like it was made for us.

You didn’t need to explain it to people who knew.
You didn’t need to perform.
You just wore it — and people nodded.

There were no influencers.
Just cousins, barbers, DJs, ballers, mandem.
We passed Trapstar round like gospel.
From bedroom to block to stage.

Wearing Trapstar Felt Like Armor

In certain postcodes, what you wear could save you or sink you.
A logo on your chest wasn’t just style — it was alignment.
But Trapstar? Trapstar was neutral like smoke. Everyone respected it.

The puffers felt bulletproof, even if they weren’t.
The T-shirts made you stand taller.
And the branding?
Minimal but mean. Like, say less.

Wearing Trapstar Jacket was the closest thing we had to a uniform that actually understood us.

It Was Bigger Than Fashion

Before I knew what “streetwear” even meant, Trapstar was already doing it.
Before the collabs, before Roc Nation, before the Instagram drops —
Trapstar was already a movement.

Giggs had it on in his early freestyles.
Stormzy wore it on his way up.
Dave repped it in interviews like it was a birthright.
Even when celebrities got involved, it still felt local. Like they were stepping into our world, not taking it.

“It’s A Secret” – Yeah, It Still Is

Even now in 2025, Trapstar hasn’t sold out.
You can walk into Selfridges and see it, sure — but the real ones?
We still cop through the DM link-ups, the early drops, the pop-up shops where they don’t even tell you the address until the morning of.

That’s the magic.
It’s not meant for everyone.
It’s meant for the ones who moved quiet, who kept their head down but their hunger up.
For those who dreamed loud but lived low-key.

Final Words

Trapstar gave me confidence before I knew what confidence was.
It reminded me that where I come from isn’t something to escape —
it’s something to carry.

I’m not just a fan of the brand.
I’m part of its story.

And so are thousands of us —
kids who grew up on grey estates,
in tracksuits and dreams,
with a vision bigger than our postcode.

Trapstar didn’t make it out.
It made it happen.