Like countless other Jamaican fashion ventures of the mid-20th century, the story of the Davon Corporation has largely faded from view. Tracing its history required piecing together fragments – primarily a series of newspaper articles discovered in the National Library of Jamaica. Yet, even these scattered traces reveal a remarkable narrative: one of entrepreneurial vision, rapidly shifting consumer tastes, and the pivotal role of local industry in shaping Jamaica's identity during its transition from a British colony to an independent nation.

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The Davon Corporation was founded in 1960 by cousins David and Donald Chin. Their rapid growth was striking: expanding from a small downtown Kingston workshop to a purpose-built factory on Bell Road in West Kingston by 1964. Within just five years, their workforce surged from around 70 to nearly 300 employees, establishing them as one of the island's leading garment manufacturers. Their initial focus on trousers proved incredibly successful, quickly becoming bestsellers among Jamaican men and known colloquially as the 'Davon pant' or 'Davs slack.'

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At the time Davon was established, bespoke clothing crafted by local tailors remained the norm for many Jamaican men, signifying personal style, social aspiration, and individual expression. However, by the early 1960s, consumer habits were undergoing a significant transformation. The growing availability of ready-to-wear fashion, particularly imported garments, began to capture the attention of fashion-conscious Jamaican men. The Chins recognised a critical opportunity: to produce high-quality ready-to-wear trousers domestically, specifically for the local market. Davon's remarkable success validated this vision. Their trousers effectively bridged the gap between tradition and modernity, offering a locally produced alternative to foreign imports that didn't compromise on quality or style. Their influence even extended beyond Jamaica, reaching markets across the wider Caribbean.

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Highlighting the skilled craftsmanship behind Davon's success brings forward figures like Edgar Landell. A former tailor, Landell joined the company as a pattern cutter, notably contributing to their newer lines in women’s sportswear, before being promoted to Production Manager by 1969. Landell’s trajectory within Davon underscores the vital skilled labour that underpinned and shaped the island’s manufacturing sector. His story, like those of countless other Jamaican garment workers, reminds us of the creativity and professionalism whose contributions often remain undocumented in traditional historical accounts – precisely the kinds of stories my research seeks to uncover.

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My research often benefits from the generosity of others who hold pieces of this history. Recently, I received a collection of shirts from researcher, Jeremy Collingwood, who has spent decades exploring Jamaican sound system and music culture. (Find a list of Collingwood's books here.) Among these garments was a remarkable find: a shirt  labelled 'Davon' – something I had never encountered in my collecting before. Its existence immediately posed a puzzle: did Davon expand its menswear line beyond trousers? Or was this a unique commission? The fabric itself offered a clue, printed repeatedly with the words 'Jamaica 1973 International Convention'.

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My longstanding interest lies in the powerful role textiles played in constructing Jamaican post-independence identity, and this shirt immediately captured my attention. Beyond its status as a rare Davon garment, its design holds significant meaning. Crafted from a lightweight, breathable fabric typical of the climate, the short-sleeved shirt features a soft, muted pale green base, allowing the printed motifs to command focus. These motifs are rendered in a bold, repeated pattern using red, black, and green – colours deeply resonant with political meaning across Pan-African and Caribbean contexts. Each motif consists of a red triangle overlaid on a silhouette of Jamaica, framed by the words 'Jamaica 1973 International Convention'. This deliberate repetition across the entire textile strongly suggests its function as a commemorative garment, likely commissioned for a specific political or cultural event.

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Structurally, the shirt presents compelling details: sharply defined front pleats overlaid with four patch pockets. These features immediately evoked a striking parallel with the Kariba suit jacket, famously designed by Ivy Ralph and adopted by Prime Minister Michael Manley throughout the 1970s. The Kariba suit was far more than just clothing; it was a deliberate political statement. It embodied Manley’s potent rejection of Eurocentric dress codes and his call for cultural and economic sovereignty. By consciously moving away from the suit-and-tie silhouette favoured by colonial administrators and embracing a relaxed, distinctly Caribbean form, Manley powerfully utilised dress to signal a radical political shift – one rooted in regional pride, self-reliance, and solidarity with the Global South.

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The compelling similarities between the shirt’s design – its pleated structure, pockets, and print blending political messaging with national symbolism – and the iconic Kariba suit immediately provoke a series of crucial research questions. Was this shirt a unique, commemorative one-off? Did Davon actively expand its vision to encompass a wider range of menswear beyond their successful trousers? Was it produced solely to mark a specific moment, such as a particular political gathering or internationalist agenda? Or does it represent a fascinating example of local design ingenuity responding directly to a specific commission?

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These are questions that my ongoing research seeks to answer. But this single garment, this 'small archival discovery,' powerfully demonstrates how engaging with material culture can unlock hidden narratives. It opens up vital new lines of inquiry into Jamaican fashion history, local production networks, and the nuanced ways that clothing operates. It serves as a potent reminder that studying material culture goes beyond simply documenting what people wore; it's about understanding the makers, the contexts of production, and the complex ways that garments embody values, mark historical moments, and actively shape national identity​.​

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