Reggae style has always been more than just a look. It’s an attitude and a subtle rebellion. You see it in the bold rasta palette: the deep reds, greens, and golds that have danced through Trenchtown yards and onto runways decades later. Reggae itself emerged in the late 1960s in the concrete corners of Kingston, Jamaica, where sound systems and dancehalls became sanctuaries for self-expression, resistance, and community. It’s that unmistakable vibe that says freedom first, rules second, an ethos that remains stitched into today’s freshest collections, proving that what was born in Kingston never stays confined to one island.
From Bob Marley’s military jackets and knitted tams (crocheted hats worn by Rastafarians to protect dreadlocks), to Grace Jones’ dangerously fierce, sharp androgyny that shattered lines between femme and masc, stage and street—reggae’s original icons left behind a wardrobe of symbols that still bleed into how we dress now. Together, these trailblazers gave us more than hits, they gave us a blueprint for using clothes to stand for something much larger than ourselves.
Fast forward to today’s collections, and that blueprint is alive and well. And even more luxurious. Wales Bonner, with her tender nods to diasporic identity, drapes reggae’s roots across knitted crochet tops, loose denim, and sun-bleached palettes that channel a day party in Negril. Theophilio specifically, is directly influenced by Edvin’s Jamaican upbringing. There’s a reason crochet runs so deep. Jamaica’s humid climate and island craftsmanship made airy knits and openwork patterns a natural choice, while crochet tams and mesh tops became statements of both style and freedom. Martine Rose, the master of subculture, remixes Clarks and crisp tailoring with a distinctly reggae swagger. Clarks Originals have their own lore in Jamaican style. Rude boys made Clarks their subtle flex, wearing fresh-from-England shoes, but with homegrown style.
Even streetwear giants like Supreme and Denim Tears have threaded the energy of the culture into their collections. They’ve had collaborations and capsule drops that pay homage to reggae’s living legend and their innate eternal cool: mesh tank tops, bucket hats, bright colors, and sometimes tees printed with the photos of reggae’s most renowned talents straight from Trenchtown sidewalks find new life in city streets from New York to Tokyo. It’s the global echo, and proof that reggae’s fashion legacy is just as borderless as its music.
What reggae style teaches us is this: to dress with the ease of someone who knows exactly who they are. It’s about choosing clothes that feel lived-in, personal, and rooted in something deeper than trends. It’s that confidence to throw on the sun-faded crochet that breathes in the heat, the colors that speak to roots and rebellion in equal measure.
When you slip on that sun-faded crochet that breathes in the heat, consider yourself inspired by the resistance, ease, and pride of Jamaican culture. And that, really, is the lesson: let your style do what the music has always done, move you forward, on your own terms.