"I don't see why you have to spend your allowance on...," Burt Hummel says one afternoon as his only son walks in with his latest shipment from e-bay, "dress-up clothes. You could probably buy a jet ski for as much as you spent on your fashion stuff this past year."
"Dad..." Kurt just shakes his head. Fathers just don't understand the importance of couture.
First, when Kurt Hummel's current daily existence forms the 'paying dues' part of his magnificent success story, looking better than one's tormentors is not a hollow victory. Yes, he's the one getting shoved in the dumpster, but he and his Versace will leave Lima far behind, while his tormentors go on to play football at a community college, or sit on a bench at Ohio State.
If clothes do, in fact, make the man, then Kurt's clothes make him into a man who will travel to New York, Paris, Milan, and Tokyo, while the clothes of one Dave Karofsky won't get him further than the Target a block away from his dentist.
Second, when makeover shows are not only Kurt's crack and his escape from the daily pressures of school, football, and Glee club, but one's source of spending money as well, couture sells the package. Every teenage girl who discovers the power of skin care and clothes that flatter her best features is one more girl well served by the fact that he is McKinley High School's makeover guru.
And every makeover means another fifty dollars that goes into his wallet. In that sense, a fabulous clear rain coat or a custom knit winter cap is an investment piece no more different than his father investing in a new set of high-quality tools, or customizing his car.
And third, he's sure one day, on the edge of launching his superstar career (the one Rachel Berry can only dream of), he and his couture will catch the eye of a tall, handsome, athletic man, ala Finn Hudson, only slightly more intelligent than a bag of hammers (Kurt doesn't mind being the brains in the relationship, as well as that element of glamor), and—more importantly—gay and single, will lean in and compliment the taste and his ability to get unique vintage finds for a fraction of their resale value.
They'll then bond over their common interests in singing, dancing, and finding killer deals in consignment shops.
He lives for that day, almost more than the one where he'll see the title of his one-man show (Kurt Hummel: Looking Sharp and Defying Gravity) up in lights.
And then, no matter how much he spends on his clothes, his grooming, it will all be worth it.
He looks at his father, "It's who I am."
That's all the explanation anyone needs.
At least until his besequined jacket arrives, complete with the caplet in the back and rhinestone trim.
He'll say it's for Glee.