Chris Colfer’s most Banana outfits on Glee

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Chris Colfer's character gives Glee — even at its silliest — a likable beating heart, and the actor earns extra credit for maintaining a relatable emotional core through the trappings of a wardrobe that is arguably Glee’s most farcical, with influences seemingly ranging from the Sound of Music to The Warriors to a Swiffer duster (sometimes all in the same hour). We’ve picked out some of our favorite outfits from his final season as a high-school student (3rd season).

We’re not sure why Kurt’s got a canary-colored feather duster hooked to his pants — a tickle fight seems like weak defense against the slushie-throwing jocks — and the shoes feel hijacked from a Toddlers & Tiaras–themed square dance. In all, it’s like a very strange personal ad: “In his spare time, Kurt enjoys the box-step, collecting Lorax shavings, and delivering telegrams to the impressionable, gazebo-aroused daughters of Austrian naval officers.”

These two garments are deliciously hilarious and impractical — after all, what happens if he wants to raise his arms in the air like he just don’t care? And we aren’t entirely sure what to call that hybrid of a turtleneck, a poncho, a dickey, and a straitjacket. “Dickchoneckjacket” doesn’t quite have the right ring to it. However, it will look wonderful when the local yacht club pastes him on the wall next to all the other semaphore flags.

You really can't blame Kurt for looking so forlorn here. PETA is going to be very upset with him when it translates the message behind a stocking cap covered in reindeer paired with a camouflage shirt. (The message is: murder.)

This is both fantastic and incredibly helpful if you ever wondered what it would look like if Vince Neil got sent to prep school circa Girls Girls Girls.

Life lesson No. 1: Never wear a bolero made of one of your dad’s old dress shirts, because if you happen to shake hands with the cocky jackhole who is putting the moves on your boyfriend, you want your eyes to challenge him to a battle of wits, not a battle of twits. Somebody confiscate this child’s scissors.

Have you ever imagined what The Headless Horseman story would be like if Ichabod Crane were a noted show jumper? Kurt clearly has.

Apparently Kurt is mad for tartan — very few men own a classic red plaid, as well as an olive-green suit and its photo-negative. Luckily, he manages to look dapper in the pattern, and only very mildly like the outer wrapping on a box of shortbread.

Kurt may be the perfect grandson, because he never met an exuberantly knitted sweater he wasn’t willing to wear. No one will ever top the robustness of the infamous Cosby in this regard — nor should they — but we always respect a guy who doesn’t turn up his nose at a woolly ode to Tic Tac Toe, or something that looks like a creepy 8-bit video game about a monster picking flowers. We call it Scarecrow Gone Wildflower. And judging by Artie there, it's contagious.

Clearly, Glee’s performance numbers often veer into fantasy, and thus the fantastical. But it would be remiss not to note our infatuation with Comrade Hummel’s woolly turban, which — aside from being the latest entry on our list of potential band names — makes him look like the world’s least covert KGB paratrooper.

If we get a vote on the subject of neckwear, can we suggest that Kurt stick to wearing the hide of the Hells Angel he skinned on the way into school in the morning (we assume that's what that necklace is) rather than that wan and flaccid knotted string-scarf? One looks amusingly punk rock, the other is simply gloomy.

This was from the very special Glee wherein it was revealed Kurt is actually an 85-year-old racing junkie whose brooch uncurled one day to hand him a scroll with both the secret to eternal youth and the winner of the 3:20 at Santa Anita.

The sequined pink blazer is a performance costume, but we could see Kurt wearing it just as easily in the hallways. In fact, we wish he'd trotted it out for prom, given that his casual vest-and-top-hat look seems a little underdressed next to an impeccable Blaine. (Yes, other than perhaps Abraham Lincoln, Kurt is basically the only person in history who can make a top hat look casual.)

You know, Burt Hummel’s mechanic business must be doing really well. Buying a red Valentine’s suit that’s quilted to absorb maximum theoretical heartache can’t be cheap.

We have no idea what Sue is berating poor Kurt about, but maybe it’s because she’s bummed he didn’t have the stones to wear a mesh tank sans undershirt. That said, we're pretty relieved he resisted. The Village People don’t need more members right now.

This is what we imagine Richard Simmons would design for the USA Gymnastics team. We further enjoy that this appears to be one of those hoodies that zips all the way around, and thus can completely seal itself, because then Kurt could really prank those football jerks by passing himself off as an innocent-looking gymbag. So James Bond.

We are making the exact same face as Rachel Berry, trying to figure out what's happening with this shirt. It's allegedly by Marc Jacobs — but it looks more like it's by Hot Glue Gun.

Is there any better salute to the onset of autumn than wearing fall colors and stabbing yourself with migratory waterfowl? If only he were wearing a hat made of a hollowed-out pumpkin.

Tracheal gangrene: the silent killer.

We like to think that this is what Kurt wears when he's not in the mood to get touch-feely with anyone. Nothing says "No Hugs Today" like covering your torso in spikes.

Judging from his wardrobe, Kurt is deeply inspired by his namesake in The Sound of Music. The skull-patterned McQueen scarf is a nice high-fashion touch, but that hat is pure Salzburg Music Festival. We just wish he'd go all the way and pair it with some Lederhosen. Surely that's on deck for next season, right?

Finn is thinking, Why am I at a diner with David Silver? Am I in one of those comas where I think it’s 1993? Kurt is thinking, Finn is so precious to me. Am I precious to him? We should hug it out with my synthesizer.

Our grandmothers taught us that you can always tell a true gentleman by how he matches his necktie to his lounging robe.

There is something to be said for an outfit that would look at home on Samuel L. Jackson, Muammar Gaddafi, and Melanie Mayron's thirtysomething character alike. And that something is: Wow. What’s left? Something that fuses Nicki Minaj, J.R. Ewing, and Angelina’s Leg? Guess we’ll find out next fall. Cross your fingers.

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