All I knew about J. Peterman, until I received this catalog, was that it was a running joke on Seinfeld. The fictional Elaine worked as a copywriter for the non-fictional catalog. She says, “A pair of pants, a stupid story, a huge markup. I can do that.”

But I hadn’t actually seen a J. Peterman catalog until we got this one in the mail.

J. Peterman is an illustrated book of aspiration and nostalgia. The products appeal to rich urban people who secretly long to be cowboys and flappers. (Why urban? Because those of us in flyover country buy our dusters at farm stores, like McFarlane’s).

Each product has a long, goofy story for a description. Here’s the opening for men’s 4-Wale Corduroy pants:

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the man thatching the roof of that sensational thick-walled cottage in Dorset isn’t merely wearing corduroy pants, but extra-wide-wale corduroy pants…

What interests me most about the J. Peterman catalog, though, is the oddness of the layout and design. Watercolor sketches, rather than photographs, display the products. So there’s a fair amount of guessing about what a Moulin Rouge Bodice or a 90210 sweater might actually look like on a person.

The type is set with tight leading and kerning (not much space between letters or lines) and has a five-character indent at the beginning of each paragraph. The font is Belwe light or something, I’m not really sure, but you don’t see those goofy art nouveau fonts used for body text very often, and for good reason. It’s awkward and difficult to read.

Also, the catalog is not organized at all. Outwear and underwear, men’s and women’s, accessories and garments are all randomly scattered through the 75-page book.

If a designer presented this comp to a client who was starting a new catalog company, the client would politely scoot them out the door. Clients want catalogs that look like catalogs, with nice photos and user-friendly layouts. And way less copy. More products on fewer pages = money.

If a student designer presented it in class, they’d get an “A” for the illustrations, a B+ for creativity and an F for the typography. And in the crit, someone would suggest removing most of the words because it’s about the design, right?

J. Peterman works, though, and has (with a few bumps along the way) since 1987. Maybe mainly because of smart product placement on Seinfeld. But I hope partly because the enterprise stubbornly sticks to its ideosyncratic vision.

It’s a charming and odd way to waste 10 minutes perusing. And I think the World War II boxers on p. 25 might make a cool holiday gift.