Lately the NFL feels vaguely like a fashion week spinoff.

Gridiron warriors parade into the stadiums wearing splashy designer ensembles carefully crafted with the help of a stylist. There’s flamboyant millinery — sombreros, anyone? — luxury logos and avant-garde silhouettes that harken back to the Griswolds’ Italian shopping spree in “National Lampoon’s European Vacation.”

Then there’s Giants quarterback Daniel Jones.

At best, the 25-year-old looks like he raided an Eddie Bauer outlet on Adderall and is walking in with one mission: to ace his calculus final. He’s baby-faced, lacking in swag and utterly milquetoast.

He is a plate of spaghetti with butter in a league filled with haute cuisine. (Even his aw-shucks predecessor Eli Manning wore snazzy Zegna suits.)

But in the broader picture, Daniel Jones is punk rock. It’s just taken a few seasons for that to emerge.

Selected sixth overall in the 2019 draft, he automatically drew comparisons to Eli — from his looks to his frame to his demeanor. One could have seen late owner Wellington Mara making the call from heaven, so compatible was Jones with the Giants’ nose-to-the-grind ethos. But the pick was controversial with fans and mocked across the league.

It inspired Bill Simmons’ site, The Ringer, to put out a song and video, “Daniel Jones,” to the tune of Counting Crows’ “Mr. Jones,” highlighting the QB’s permanently bewildered face and his uncanny resemblance to Woody from “Toy Story.” It was hilarious, but alas, it was not a compliment.

And this fella from Duke didn’t have it easy. He was placed in the hands of head coach Pat Shurmur. And then Joe Judge and then finally Brian Daboll — all during his rookie contract. He didn’t have a strong offensive line or a reliable corps of receivers. Any other newbie quarterback would have folded under such variables, thrown an on-field tantrum or lashed out on social media.

And yet, publicly he’s remained tight-lipped, never complaining.

There were other bright spots. He showed us, unlike Eli, that he had wheels. After beating the Bucs in 2019, he earned the nickname “Danny Dimes,” which was also a play on his square white-boy persona.

What he thought about this, I have no idea.

In fact, I have no idea what he thinks about anything. And isn’t that refreshing.

Social media, podcasts and the compulsion to weigh in on everything are fueling some athletes, like many celebrities, to open the blinds and start walking around naked.

In some cases, we got to know too many distracting details. Their family dramas, their love lives, their food allergies and if they had their morning constitutional.

Since he was drafted, Jones has tweeted about 24 times, mostly about a sponsor or a community cause. His Instagram has five posts.

If he has a girlfriend, we wouldn’t know because neither party posts about it. She isn’t on the field in a crop top filming their pregame kiss for her legions of followers. There is no family member doing awkward TikTok dances during warm-ups. If Jones has romanced his hometown MILF, it’s in the vault.

Any nuggets about his personality have come from random sources: a 2019 video of Eli Manning and Jones playing flip cup in a Hoboken bar with teammates and the personalized Ms. Pac-Man machines he gifted to his O-line.

Two weeks ago, Jones finally earned what always eluded Rodney Dangerfield: respect. After thrashing the Colts in a game where he threw two touchdown passes and ran for two more, he helped secure the team’s first playoff berth since 2016 and was finally given his due by the media. It felt like his debutant coming-out, but in typical Jones style, he was low-key.

As a sports fan, I love a good character: the passion of a Pete Alonso, the high octane intensity of Lawrence Taylor, the attitude of a Sir Charles and the mullets and mustaches of Gardner Minshew.

But given the rough waters he’s had to navigate, Jones’ placid poker face has served him well.

Especially in this world of cringey confessionals, dirty-laundry memoirs and social-media overexposure, Danny Dimes has remained a closed book.

Maybe it’s a page-turner and maybe it’s a snoozefest. But on the field, he’s giving us pretty good copy so far.