Emerging sometime around the turn of the decade, by 1992 it was a firmly-established fad popularised by the street gangs of the era. As the country marched to war, civil society crumbled and state institutions became engulfed in the flagrant corruption of the Milošević years, organised crime flourished. In an economy crippled by international sanctions, the black market was the only worthwhile employer and criminals became the benchmark of affluence. Garish tracksuits were enjoying a moment of global popularity at the time due to the popularity of jogging, but their prohibitive price tags combined with Serbia’s dire economic circumstances turned them into a gaudy status symbol.

“When tracksuits first appeared over here, they cost something like 250 deutschmarks (around $150). Take into account that the average pay back then was five marks ($3),” recalls Bojan Savić, a local collector of dizelaš fashion. “A German would buy a tracksuit to go jogging, while a Serb would wear it for its prestige.” Unsurprisingly, some of the only people who could afford to spend that sort of money were career criminals.

Kappa’s tracksuits were most popular, particularly a model known colloquially as the “Danone”, which was worn by Italian football giants Juventus and owed its name to the yoghurt manufacturer whose branding appeared on the team’s training wear. Reebok, Adidas and Asics were widespread, but anything by Gucci was the holy grail, simply because pricier meant better. Diesel were the gold standard in jeans, while Nike’s Air Max BW, the Air Max 2 and Reebok’s Graphite Pump and Instapump were the trainers of choice.

Gosha Rubchinskiy’s meteoric success has firmly embedded the gopnik into the pop cultural hive mind, but dizelaš fashion is almost unheard of

But it wasn’t enough to simply own the right brands: they had to be worn the right way. Track tops would be tucked into jeans or track bottoms which would then be tucked into socks. This detail was pioneered by Aleksandar “Knele” Knežević, one of Belgrade’s most notorious gangsters, who is said to have done this to prevent his gun slipping from his waistband, down his leg and dropping onto the floor should he ever be forced to run and take cover from opposing gunfire. Tucking your track top into your trousers also causes it to puff up, making its wearer look bigger and tougher. The kids on the street started mimic the look, even though few of them were likely to find themselves dodging bullets like Knele. Not that it helped him much: he would be slain in a gangland killing in 1992 at the age of 21.