Stylish Moments in Television: Cosmo Kramer

Main cast in "The Subway"

I have an anachronistic relationship with Seinfeld, having lived though the 90s and not watching a single episode, instead favouring F·R·I·E·N·D·S, and Home Improvement, and other prime time sitcoms. All I knew about the show was it had an annoyingly dumb bass-heavy riff, and characters I had no patience nor interest in getting to know. Cue late-2016. Almost two decades after the final episode airs to 76 million viewers, I finally understand the magic of Seinfeld's exhaustive "show about nothing" phenomenon. The iconic theme music is no long annoying, but whimsically heartening and smile-inducing; the characters lovable and oh-so culturally significant it's easy to see why they are quoted, meme'd, referenced, and fan-fictioned about even today. 

So I wolf down the entire nine seasons in about a month, rewatching some episodes along the way because they are literally laugh-out-loud funny, and in doing so I began noticing how the main cast dressed. Most of the time there isn't much to notice because, and I assume this is true for most TV shows, the focus is on the story and its characters. Outfits cannot be distracting unless they contribute to character development or plot progression. There must be consistency in the cast, too: their personalities, behaviour, moral and ethical compasses—maybe fit a few archetypes—and, therefore, their appearance must be appropriate and true to the characters. That's why every character has a uniform. 

Elaine and Kramer waiting for Jerry and George in "The Limo". Kramer's camel vintage leather peacoat sparked my awareness of the main cast's wardrobe for the remainder of the series.

Jerry's go-to look, when not performing in his over-sized jackets, consists simply of stone-washed denim, Nike dad-trainers, and a rotation of blousy collared shirts and sweatshirts. His outwear of choice are leather, baseball, and bomber jackets. George's professions require a dressier wardrobe but still leans toward casual, opting for khakis and cords, flannel shirts, the occasional tie, knit pullovers, tweed jackets, parkas and overcoats. George's wardrobe is more diverse because he is, in my opinion, a relatively more developed character compared to Jerry, especially when it comes to his very specific superficial insecurities. Elaine, my absolute favourite of the four, is a petite fiery ball of energy (Get! Out! *shove*) with the most complicated wardrobe filled with wide-shouldered jackets, over-sized denim jackets, blazers and suits for work, full-length flowery dresses, and most notably early in the series, visible white socks—a style choice she shares with Kramer. Elaine's hairstyle also evolves the most over the course of the series, starting with a poofy perm in the early 90s, to shorter curls, straight shoulder-length, or done up in a bun by the end of the series.

From "The Keys". Few things define eccentricity quite like Cosmo Kramer

But my keen interest is in Kramer's personal style because he is the best dressed and most stylish of the bunch. He as a caricature of himself—an oddity having a Z-Score of ±4 on a bell curve; an outlier on the trend line; a singularity in ways only Kramer can be. From his stringy pompadour, entertaining facial expressions contortions, clumsy spastic body language and lanky gait, to his exaggerated theatrical manner of speech, Kramer's toggery must also match his peculiarity. His style is best described as 1970s vintage, most prevalent in his penchant for camper collar shirts and knits in strong colours, and gregarious patterns and motifs; his silhouette borrows from workwear—relaxed looser fit, and cropped trousers draping that tall slender frame, or as Kramer describes his body as that of a "taught, pre-teen Swedish boy."

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On an unrelated note, if it isn't already obvious, Kramer (though a case can be made for Newman) is the only person addressed and referred to by his surname rather than his given name, which adds all the more interest to his outlandish character. There are few episodes where Kramer is the main focus, but that doesn't matter because even in a supporting role he is the centre of attention the moment he enters the scene, adding a particular life no other character can, and looking fabulous doing it.

"The Apartment" sporting an unusually post-mousse groomed (for Kramer) hairstyle.

Lobster/crayfish motif camper, from "The Pie"

More subtle horse/equestrian critters shirt in "The Invitations". Kramer's face betrays his otherwise suave 70s look.

Another vintage camper from "The Doodle".

Bold stripe knit polo in "The Opera". Kramer's tall and wide frame allows clothes to hang and drape with sophistication. Had he styled his hair in a more traditional manner he could have be a different character.

Kramer being bullied by the neighbourhood children in "The Serenity Now". He is a master of colour theory and tonal dress, and this earthy ensemble is one of my favourites.

Again, Kramer displays a masterful understanding of basic complementary colour theory and tonal dress in "The Fix-Up": two-toned light blue top with navy trousers framed by a tobacco brown jacket. Even without the intense posturing, he stylishly defeats George (and Jerry).

Easily Kramer's most intentionally put together outfit, following the stereotypical golf uniform in "The Bubble Boy", but he doesn't look like the goofy try-hard he's meant to portray. Kramer has the misplaced sense of self-confidence to make sure the look work in his favour.

Kramer making a bet with Jerry that he will complete this "steps" apartment configuration before the end of the month, from "The Pony Remark". Such strong confident stripes, mirroring his confidence in winning the bet.

Also from "The Pony Remark" one scene later when Kramer concedes that he gave up on building his "steps". The equally bold but more chaotic western camper reflects his scatter-brain moment where he seemingly doesn't understand, or forgets, how a bet works after Jerry tries to claim his dinner... or maybe Kramer does understands, but feigns ignorance and got away with it!

Absolutely love this colour block shirt from "The Soup".

Tonal outfit from "The Caddy".

Upon closer inspection, the small check pattern on his trousers add extra interest to his otherwise flat outfit if the trousers were plain.

That Varsity neckline from "The Serenity Now"

I believe the only new item of clothing Kramer has purchased in the entire series was the pair of Wrangler jeans in "The Wait Out", which looked so out of character, and not just because they were too tight. The jeans symbolise an uncomfortable restriction of Kramer's usual free-spirit and quirky sense of self. This is important in the realm of personal style, or just one's general state of being: wear what makes you comfortable; what reflects who you are, and who you want to be—who you want others to perceive you to be, which can often conflict with the true self.

Elaine: Kramer, they're painted on!
Kramer: Well, they're slim fit.
Jerry: ...slim fit?
Kramer: Yeah, they're streamlined.
Jerry: You're walking like Frankenstein.
Kramer: Come on, they just gotta be worked in a little bit, that's all.

In "The Wait Out", smarmy Jerry goads the usually confident Kramer by subtly body-shaming him into proving to Jerry that he can still wear (fit into) jeans (hence "body of a taught, pre-teen Swedish boy"). Why Kramer equates that with super-skinny jeans only Kramer knows, but that's besides the point. For the remainder of the episode the viewer is treated to several comedic scenarios in which Kramer tries to go through his day in painted-on Wranglers. From trying to pick up Jerry's TV Guide to the simple act of walking and sitting, helping Mickey out with his audition, and ultimately ending up arrested at the police station accused of being a child predator, trying to disprove Jerry proved a costly, but entertaining, decision. Wearing anything for anyone but yourself betrays your personal style, and the Wranglers were Kramer's only style folly in the nine seasons.

In stark contrast to the Wranglers, these stonewashed light blue dad-jeans from Jerry's closet in "The Voice" are more befitting Kramer. The fact that they crop on him because he's taller than Jerry adds extra coolness. The white socks and black oxfords make this look certified contemporary street style; he just needs a pair of funky sunglasses, a cool bag, and an iPhone to capture it with and spam his social media accounts. Since Kramer's outfit came from Jerry's closet, imagine the two of them wearing the exact same things—shirt, jeans, oxfords. Who looks more "himself", Jerry or Kramer? It may be Jerry's wardrobe, but it is so Kramer. And that's the power clothes can have: it can diminish or enhance not only one's image, but one's sense of self.

From "The Voice". I don't know what the 90s audience thought of his monotone look, but damn if he doesn't look cool now. Throw on a pair of multi-coloured Balenciaga Triple S or Treks and he'd fit right in to Fashion Month.

Jerry: What about your stuff?

Kramer: Uh, oh, uh, OK, uh... Yeuh!

There are a few of moments in Seinfeld where Kramer reveals a bit about his style preferences (apart from wearing them), the first of which coming in "The Statue" where he and Jerry carry into the apartment a box of Jerry's grandfather's possessions, whereupon Kramer immediately fancies a pair of black knee-high socks before copping an old tweed suit, a fedora, and a pair of brown and white spectators, which he wears several times throughout the show.

When Morty Seinfeld compliments his pants in "The Raincoats", saying he owns a similar pair, Kramer declares, while casually gesturing at Morty that draws a funny reaction, that he got them at a used clothing store that procures its stock from widows whose husbands have died.

And of course, Kramer's admiration for, and appreciation of vintage garments is confirmed in "The Secretary" when Kenny Bania enquires about buying his suit to which he replies, "This is vintage, they don't make this stuff anymore... Look at the stitching. This is old world craftsmanship." But being Kramer, he does an aboutface and sells the suit to Bania for a $300, which is about $500 in 2018... so not bad, actually.

Doing his best Joe Friday: "Just make love to that wall, pervert!"

Despite the casual nature of Kramer's outfits, he occasionally dabbles in the more sartorial world, wearing tailored suits and jackets of times past. He looks as comfortable and much the individual that he is in his countless camper shirts as he does in his vintage suits.

From "The Statue", Kramer goes incognito as a cop wearing Jerry's grandfather's old tweed suit and fedora to retrieve the titular statue for George. While Jerry can't bring himself to wear "grandpa clothes" Kramer gleefully embraces them probably because 1. they're stylish, 2. they're old, and 3. he got them for free! Indeed Kramer looks like a (young) hip grandpa.

"Professor Peter von Nostrand" and Elaine in "The Nose Job" trying to con the landlord into getting "the jacket" belonging to Kramer's mother's incarcerated ex-boyfriend, which, when worn, mysteriously attracts women.

"The Comeback"

From "The Gum". Those brown and white spectators again, in combination with white socks and overall tonal dress. Kramer somehow manages to both blend in with, and stand out against the heavy auburny surroundings.

Kramer and Jerry in "The Soup Nazi" about to confront the flamboyant but aggressive couple that stole Elaine's armoire.

Kramer wearing the Technicolor Dreamcoat in "The Wig Master"—Thug Life!

"A.G. Pennypacker" in "The Millennium".

Kramerica Industries orientation with Darren the intern in "The Voice". Kramer donning olive drab separates like a boss.

Dean Jones: Far as I can tell, your entire enterprise is a little more than a solitary man with a messy apartment which may or may not contain a chicken.

Kramer: ... and with Darren's help we'll get that chicken!

Pitti Uomo-level layering in "The Movie": 1. camper collar shirt, 2. olive cardigan, 3. shearling coat, 4. overcoat draped over

More masterful tonal dressing in "The Merv Griffin Show".

The main cast and Jackie Chiles in "The Finale". There are those brown and white spectators again.

Unlike serial dramas that have long story arcs that afford character and plot development the audience can latch themselves onto, Seinfeld's sitcom plots remain episodic, on occasion spilling into a two-parter, and the main cast's characters are established from the beginning with little change throughout: Jerry Seinfeld, the stand-up comedian with dating issues, and is the focal point of the series; George Costanza, the insecure best friend who has a difficult time holding employment, and has more relationship issues than Jerry; Elaine Benes, the ex who is somehow still friends with Jerry and continues to share the same social circle, and who also has relationship problems.

And then there's Kramer, the overly intrusive neighbour who's a little off in many ways, but doesn't share the same level of relationship problems as the rest. Instead, his plot lines reside in the wacky ideas his mind generates, sounding off with opinions on others' issues, and general trouble-making. Kramer is, as far as it's known, unemployed (except for that gig at H&H Bagels) but doesn't seem to worry about money, instead pursuing interests like acting, playing a part-time mall Santa, pitching his said wacky ideas (like "the Beach" perfume), or trying to score a windfall suing a large company.

If there is anything to take away from Kramer's style, it's that it comes with the personality. That isn't to say that only interesting people wear interesting clothes, but it would make sense, wouldn't it? If what is worn doesn't reflect/project who is wearing the outfit, the true sense of self is lost, and Kramer is a perfect example—fictional or otherwise—of someone who uses the power of personal style and clothing to create a memorable, lasting impression even two decades later, and having only jumped onto the Seinfeld bandwagon not too long ago, Kramer will influence my personal style philosophy for a long time.