There is something about Diesel that makes me want to be a little reckless.

Maybe it’s the denim. Maybe it’s the sex. Maybe it’s just that particular Diesel feeling of what if we stopped pretending clothes have to behave?

But watching this collection, I kept coming back to one thing.

Something underneath is always trying to get out.

And once I noticed it, I couldn’t really unsee it.

It starts quietly. A little graphic rupture at a collar. Something underneath pushing through the surface of the garment. Then it appears at a cuff. Then a hem.

At first you’re thinking: cute.

Then: hang on.

Then suddenly Diesel has basically pulled the entire garment apart and replaced it with lace vines crawling over bare skin.

OH.

Okay.

We’re doing that.

The collection is built around this idea of eruption — something hidden refusing to stay hidden — and I love that Diesel doesn’t just repeat it for 38 looks. It keeps changing the language.

Leather first. Tonal leather, almost severe in its monochrome confidence. Navy, ecru, cognac, tan. Shirt-jackets, trenches, trousers — everything coming from the same surface so the clothes almost become one continuous material rather than separate pieces.

Then things start breaking.

A lining pushes through a collar. A second layer appears beneath a hem. Edges look torn, but they’re not actually torn — they’re engineered to look like something has happened to the garment.

Which feels very Diesel to me.

The clothes aren’t falling apart.

They’re pretending they are.

And then the collection gets much more complicated.

The floral lace begins as an embellishment, trailing down a leg, before eventually taking over completely. By the middle of the show, garments almost disappear into embroidered vines wrapped around the body, with bare skin and an embroidered bra visible underneath.

And honestly, those are the images that stayed with me.

Because at that point Diesel isn’t really decorating the clothes anymore.

It’s questioning whether you need the clothes at all.

There is something wonderfully ridiculous about that — in the best possible way. You spend all this time constructing a garment and then suddenly the most important part of the garment is the bit that’s missing.

The collection then moves into marbled, paint-splattered surfaces, twisted dresses, draped pieces and those slightly strange combinations of softness and aggression that Diesel seems to understand particularly well.

And then comes the denim.

Which is where I started scratching my head.

Because this is Diesel.

And yet denim spends most of the show almost completely absent.

When it finally comes back in the last six looks, it comes back almost suspiciously normal — faded, wide-legged, cut into shorts, worn underneath oversized pinstripe tailoring. No crazy washing. No cracking. No laser work. No elaborate surface treatment.

Just denim.

After everything we’ve just seen, it almost feels shy.

And that makes the ending much more interesting than it probably intended to be.

The final looks settle into this wonderfully undone office archetype: oversized pinstripe blazer, white shirt opened or knotted around the body, denim underneath. It feels incredibly wearable — almost reassuring — after the chaos of the middle section.

But I can’t decide whether I love that or whether I’m slightly disappointed by it.

Because Diesel had me.

The lace had me.

The leather had me.

That ridiculous moment where the garment stops behaving like a garment had me.

And then, right at the end, it says: okay, okay… here’s something you can actually wear.

Maybe that’s the point.

Maybe Diesel is saying that all this experimentation doesn’t have to replace the everyday wardrobe. Maybe the wild stuff can exist alongside the blazer, the shirt, the jeans.

Or maybe the denim simply got forgotten backstage for thirty-two looks and someone suddenly shouted, OH SHIT, WE’RE DIESEL.

I rather like both possibilities.

What makes the collection work for me is that the central idea actually develops. It starts as a little rupture and ends with the body almost completely exposed. It’s not just a mood repeated over and over — the idea gets pushed until there is almost nothing left to push.

And that’s where Diesel feels most alive.

Not when it’s trying to prove that it can make a good pair of jeans.

We already know that.

It’s when it asks what happens if the jeans, the leather, the shirt, the dress — all of it — starts coming undone.

Maybe that’s the more interesting future for Diesel.

Maybe the question isn’t what can denim do?

Maybe it’s what happens when Diesel stops needing denim to explain itself?

I’m still not entirely sure.

But I keep thinking about those lace vines.

And that’s usually a good sign.