It’s Doctor Who’s Bad Taste Bingo, and I’m calling “house!” on these sartorial scoundrels.
Capaldi, please take note...
10. Jo Grant in The
Claws of Axos
 |
| Hate your kids? Buy them these. |
No one comes out of this psychedelic slop with much
aesthetic credence: the UNIT boys’ green flannel tunics crumple baggily around
their midriffs, The Doctor’s a confusing mix of Jimi Hendrix and Blacula (only
far less cool than that sounds), and the Axons’ body-stockinged trouser bulge is
matched only by their absurd ocular protrusion. It’s Jo, however, who gets to
walk the catwalk of shame. Well, I say walk, but she’ll more likely tumble
clumsily down it - legs splayed, arms flailing madly - affording us all yet
another protracted gander at her lilac cotton undercrackers. For whilst her
plum-kissed get-up is - hey - actually pretty groovy, it’s the cynicism of the
ensemble that earns its place here.
“Lots of running about? Falling all over the place? Low
camera angles? Yeah, we got just the thing…”
9. Robin Stewart in
Arc of Infinity
 |
| Robin: rosy. |
How rosy-cheeked Robin managed to bewilder his way about Amsterdam - Europe ’s most illicitly-thrilling destination – with such
disinterest is beyond me. Even being part of an adventure as pedestrian as this
should elicit a modicum of expression. But hell, what else can we expect from
someone whose wardrobe has all the raw sex appeal of a bowl of strained cabbage
that a binman just spat in? With a flannel shirt over ruby tee, tucked into
brown chords and polished off with a ¾ length orange-lined green anorak, he’s
every inch the bassist fired from The Housemartins for being just too damn boring
even for them.
8. Peri in Trial of a
Time Lord Parts 1 – 4
 |
| "Did someone say Dallas?" |
Throughout her run, Nicola Bryant suffers clothing only the erratic
mid-1980’s could have thrown at her; croptops weaved from deckchairs,
knee-length salmon shorts, and guest star-distracting tit-tight leotards. With
the opener to season 23’s The Mysterious Planet, Peri has clearly started to be
influenced by the clot in the coat, wearing a lemon blazer seemingly stitched
from off-cuts of the Doctor’s cuffs. Bad choice, girlfriend. Combined with a
perm that wouldn’t look out of place in Dallas and a pair of trousers hoisted
up somewhere around her nipples, it manages to smother the character under a
gaudy gauze of Punch ‘n’ Judy Man and supply teacher.
7. Midge in Survival
 |
| Trust Midge. Trust him to dress like a douche. |
Nothing says “gone evil” like a mauve shirt, zebra-striped
tie, single earring, dark glasses and a single breasted cotton blazer with
black UPVC arms. No wonder the guys at the community centre stare at him,
open-mouthed in disbelief; they’re almost certainly thinking, “What a cunt.”
6. The Movellans in
Destiny of the Daleks
 |
| "Does my bum look shit in this?" |
Creating a race of formidable androids out of party shop
dreads, mighty white trousers and camel toes is either visionary genius or
howling-at-the-medicine-bottle madness. This most camp of robotic races frankly
doesn’t look menacing enough to take on the challenge of a single Adipose, let
alone the might of the entire Dalek fleet. Somehow, however, the braided bellends
held the Skarosian sodsters to battle stalemate for over two hundred years.
Perhaps, like the rest of us, the Daleks were simply too busy staring at their
arses to do anything productive?
5. The Black Guardian
in Mawdryn Undead
 |
| "Ha ha ha, I've just wet my man-knickers!" |
If The White Guardian is the man from Del Monte, then The
Black Guardian’s that weird bloke who hangs around Oddbins. You know, the fella
who smells like he doesn’t know how to wipe his arse properly. Rocking a collar
that would strangle a giraffe and tattered black robes that make Professor
Snape look positively hirsute, the crowning piss-de-resistance is, of course,
the dead bird glued to his bonce, like the result of some fraternity hazing
decades ago that he’s never bothered to remove. You want the Key to Time, do
you mate? Try the Brush of Hair first, you lank hobo.
4. Sarah Jane Smith in The Hand of Fear
 |
| Busy Lizzy: Handy Pandy |
As
with everything visual of the 1970’s, Croydon’s own investigate hack was caught
between the funky and the fuck-awful, making many fashion faux pas during her
TARDIS tenancy. For every angular triumph like the The Ark in Space’s combat
trousers, there are several designer disasters, such as the mini-Marple curiosity
from Robot, or the Quo groupie denim two-piece from Planet of Evil.
Unfortunately, her final regular appearance in the classic series ends on such
an insult to the eyes, you’d be forgiven for thinking that your telly had
squirted a bottle of Sarsons straight into your iris. More commonly known as
the “Andy Pandy”, just looking at her is a task in itself, so that she elicits
a genuinely emotional response at episode four’s climax stands as a remarkable
testament to Sladen’s acting ability (although the dark coat largely obscuring
the costume helps too). And let’s not even mention that violet PVC cagoule in
The Five Doctors...
3. Vorg & Shirna in Carnival of
Monsters
 |
| Aaagh! My eyes! |
I know; they’re supposed
to look tacky. In that respect, the wardrobe department’s sterling work serves
the script masterfully. Because as empty-headed, lowbrow entertainers, the
pair’s mixed palette of pastels, sequins and deely-boppers, they’re garbed to
ugly perfection. Hell, they’ve more or less come dressed as ITV.
2. The Lakertyans in
Time & The Rani
 |
| Aliens. Stupid fucking aliens. |
Because when you think alien, you automatically think dayglo
mullets, green pyjamas, and headbands fashioned from Laura Ashley draught
excluders.
1. The Sixth Doctor
 |
| Doctor Who: Space Berk |
“You were expecting someone else?”
Sorry Sixie, it’s nothing personal. But you’re a cosmic
cacophony, a kaleidoscope of clown and clutter: how did you think this would go
down? An exclamatory statement at best, a strobing migraine at all other times,
it’s a look that insults the intelligence as well as the eyes. The basic shape
is absolutely fine (but then I daresay Jimmy Nail’s silhouette is pretty bloody
hot) but the clash of colours betrays the eccentric charm we’ve come to expect
from the good Doctor. No longer the intergalactic wanderer, he’s now an
attention-seeking pillock, and that’s all without poor Colin Baker uttering a
single sentence.
Any of the costume’s disparate elements could have worked
singularly as an additional flourish – even the garish frock coat might have
been tempered by some charcoal chords and a sensible shirt. But no, we get a
dizzying jumble of Rupert the Bear trousers, question mark collars, cat lapel
badges, a fob pocket watch, orange spats, green boots, and gingham waistcoats.
As Peri sums it up so succinctly: yuk.
