What does 340gsm mean?
What does 340gsm actually mean in a hoodie? We break down fabric weight, durability, and why heavier cotton matters if you want clothes that last.
Close-up macro of 340gsm organic cotton hoodie fabric showing dense weave and structure, featuring Lilith’s Corsage.
GSM stands for grams per meter. It’s a measure of fabric weight.
The higher the number, the denser and heavier the fabric.
Is higher GSM better?
Not always. If you wore a 340gsm t-shirt in summer, you would melt.
Durability isn’t just about weight. It’s about construction, fibre quality, and how a garment is put together. But weight matters
Why 340gsm?
340gsm sits at the heavy end of everyday wear. It resists thinning at stress points, it holds its shape, it feels structured, it survives life and washing cycles.
Our 340gsm hoodies and sweaters are made from 50% recycled organic cotton and 50% organic cotton. Recycled cotton reduces waste input; organic cotton reduces chemical load.
Sustainability without durability is theatre.
Whether it’s a day-old button up that’s buttons have come off, or a sweater twists and thins and is unusable in 6 months, circularity doesn’t matter. Longevity comes first.
Why doesn’t everyone talk about gsm?
You don’t really need to. If something feels good enough, that’s usually enough. I care because everything in my cupboard that has been made with consideration, particularly organic cotton, I still have, so many decades later. A sweater that is as good now, as it was in 2012.
I want my clothes to live with me.
Like finding something at the back of a cupboard years later and it still feels epic.
We can do better than garments that fade or break after one wash.
It matters.
The Story Behind Our Art: Building the Mongrel Logic™ Universe
Some of the artwork in our Core range was first drawn in the 90s. This is how old sketches evolve into sustainable streetwear and how the Mongrel Logic™ universe builds from the archive outward.
Original lines, translated into thread. The archive, made tangible.
Mongrel Logic didn’t begin as a product line. It began with drawings.
Some of the artwork in our Core range was drawn in the 90’s and early 2000s. Long before hoodies and brands. In fact, what kicked this all off was drawing the embroidery for our Signature cap, more on that another day.
Flaws are as important as perfection.
Keeping the art close to its original form matters, not polishing away the awkwardness, not correcting every detail. Letting the lines stay human. Time will tell if the idea is sound or not. Re-working drawings without erasing where they came from, and building them a future, has been one of the most satisfying parts of all of this.
We are ‘the’ weirdos, mister.
I’m not apologising for it. Art has informed everything from the design of the first cap to the current development of the designer range. Testing art on textiles is the most fun I’ve had in years. Watching something once trapped in a notebook move into fabric feels like unlocking a small universe.
Art is the foundation. Form is the future.
Using my antique, vintage, almost cave-era drawings gives us a clear starting point. Not everyone understands the purple weird monster immediately, that’s fine. It’s supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to feel slightly unfamiliar. It isn’t made for everyone.
Serious comes next.
Right now, it lives simply. A sweater. A graphic. A familiar softness. I put on my own Logic Descends sweatshirt and feel the soft fabric settle. The drawing sits there quietly, carrying two decades of history with it.
This is how the universe builds.
From the archive outward. From the monsters under my bed, to the fabric you can’t say no to.
Baaplrvlsrsppdtedpdspot.
A month of studio work doesn’t always have a name. This is an attempt to give one to everything that happens before a launch feels real.
Founder (me) drawing the latest design, Lilith’s Corsage
I know it’s not a word, but it’s the best one I have for everything I have been doing over the past month. Brand architecture and authorship, practice-led research, visual language systems, reflective studio practice, platform dynamics, threshold and entry design, process documentation, and sustaining practice over time.
Which all sounds very fancy for a fuck-ton of work.
And it has been. But every month that goes by, I refine this little system and fine tune it and it’s really starting to look like what I had in my head. It’s been hugely frustrating at times. Some research is still going nowhere due to the nature of what I am trying to build, I am early. Being early means I need to define, not copy. And do it in a way that I can stand by proudly. When you are the first to do a few things, there is no one else to ask.
Which is equally Great! And terrifying.
Luckily, I am that busy I don’t have a lot of time to think about the terrifying and just focus on the next thing, and the thing after that. It sounds cryptic, and it’s not meant to. Inside my little brain is everything that we are about to launch next. We have three upcoming projects, one of which is the designer range.
All the designs, web development, copy writing, trademarks, legal, fulfilment, packaging, that list above, are all juggling for top spot. I can only pick one thing at a time.
Not to mention Insta, which for the first time is starting to feel like a thing. I can’t tell you how much work has gone into that, far too many 2am finishes.
A strong finish to 2025.
We got our first orders through and our first reviews, I’m living in a world of firsts now. It’s quite fun. And we’re off to a hell of a start for 2026, having ironed out my Baaplrvlsrsppdtedpdspot.
What’s coming in 2026?
This year I’m planning to launch the designer range, where this all started, with Mongrel’s first design, before any of this was a thing, our signature cap. A cap isn’t really a winter thing. I have another two big projects lined up for the next month to three that are in the wider Mongrel universe but not linked to the designer range, more on that later.
Deep breathe and plunge.
As I stand here, right on the edge of the precipice, it’s a very cool place to pause. From this vantage point I can look back and still see everything I have built, to get me where I am now. And I am about to jump off the proverbial cliff (suited up) where I will lose this perspective and gain a new one. I can see everything laid out in front of me, or the possibility of it, and the hard solid ground behind me. It’s still quite peaceful, despite the noise in my head. All of that is about to change.