Mack trucks. Butt cracks. Filth. None of these words would be out of place in association with either diesel – the cheap, pungent fuel of the proletariat, or Diesel – the modish, pricey togs of the aristocratically swank.
If you have a little sister, she wears Diesel jeans. If she doesn’t, she wants to, and is probably working right now, minimum wage, to save up the US$ 100+ per pair for the subtly red-striped pocket. Diesel makes other products – sweaters, tanks, bikinis, watches – but the jeans, Diesel jeans, are what the cult is all about. And if you don’t own a pair, it’s okay, no worries; not everyone can be cool. But, if Renzo Rosso, Diesel founder and jean deity, had his way, we all would be; cool that is.
