LỰU ĐẠN‘s eleventh collection, Pay Your Respects, arrives after ten seasons of fighting. Fighting to make space where there was none. Fighting to be heard. Fighting to feel the weight of their own burden. Now, the brand exhales. This collection marks a moment of maturation, a homecoming of sorts.

After the celebration of Fall/Winter 2026, which revelled in the potency of perseverance mixed with defiance, Pay Your Respects embodies arrival. Founder Hung La describes it as something that looks different than it feels. The brand has always been loud and irreverent, wearing its scars proudly. But now that strength finds transcendence, comfortable in its capacity without needing to go up in flames to demonstrate its ability to burn. La returns to the roots of the brand, leaning on established design codes to tell a story that must be shown rather than told.

Unlike past seasons, Pay Your Respects does not follow a singular character archetype. The disenfranchised drifter, the nightmarket butcher, the bōsōzoku gangs, the sleazy mobsters, all step aside. The focus returns to the garments themselves, with signature silhouettes and precise tailoring as narrative vehicles. Colours surface through unassuming burgundies and purples, with subtle details that could be missed in the face of performative statement-wear. The figures haunting the collection are men who occupied the space between elegance and intimidation: Miles Davis with his razor-sharp tailoring, Tupac’s defiant charisma, the quiet violence of Takeshi Kitano, the unsettling presence of Ichi the Killer. Their influence emerges through posture and silhouette, not costume.

A burnt burgundy pony-hair trench, oversized chocolate tailoring, grainy dark cherry leather bombers, exaggerated rugby shirts, dropped-crotch kung fu trousers, and ballooning denim create a wardrobe for men who command a room without asking permission. Japanese horror-inspired graphics and distressed surfaces lend an underlying unease. Oversized “Bad Boy” jeans and sweeping “Phat Pants” celebrate volume as both armour and attitude. These garments don’t shout. They linger.

La finds himself introspective after the recent passing of his father, a foundational figure for the brand and for La himself. The lookbook takes a ceremonial tone, shaped by months spent in funeral parlours among family carrying on his father’s memory. What he finds is that strength endures. The emotional pull he has felt has led him back to the brand’s beginning, to bolster its foundation. “We’re not reinventing the wheel,” he says. “We’re just appearing unarmed.” The LỰU ĐẠN man isn’t being redefined, but refined by his own existence.

Check out the lookbook shot by Jori Komulainen: