The fashion of fiction is not without sin. Here are nine characters from literature who missed the cut for the literary runway.

Dobby, the Harry Potter series
For a character defined by his obsessive longing for clothes there is nothing but disappointment to be found when he finally gains new-found freedom in fashion. Taking the concept of what one may call “hobo chic” all too literally, Rowling certainly wasn’t appealing to our sympathy when she dresses this lil’ house-elf; buying him a christmas present, our beloved trio “had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly.” I yield that their is probably a poignant point to be made here concerning fashion, fresh-starts, and freedom of expression, but for now: ew.

Mr Darcy, Pride and Prejudice
To those of the masses who find Mr Darcy to be their literary heart throb - shame on you and your cliche fantasy. Mr Darcy’s outfits are as wet as his character. Like clothes like character, Darcy’s choices are safe and only just about noticeable. Either be brooding and dark like a Dorian Gray or Mr Rochester, or if you’re to be eccentrically trimmed at least be as peacockish as Flyte. No more Austen-esque frilly-bland-middle-ground for me.

Wally, Where’s Wally? series
Resembling a terribly bland hybrid between a circus prison convict and the supermarket clothes your mum used to buy you as a child, this is a look that should be lost forever. Let us pray Wally is never again found in the pages which bear his name.

Christian Grey, Fifty Shades of Grey
Egocentric enough to define his wardrobe by his own name, Grey warrants only a shade to be thrown on him as drab as the novels in which he was written.

The Green Knight, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
I’m all for minimalism and clear-cut-chic, but like Grey, this supernatural enigma goes too far with his unicolor aesthetic: ‘and all arrayed in green, that man and his clothes.’ Stand him in front of a green-screen and he can disappear with Wally.

Miss Havisham, Great Expectations
Though a poignant indication of character, Miss Havisham’s clothes are as secluded from decent fashion as she is from society. Her faded and ghostly wedding attire is a saddening reminder of transience and decay: “I saw that everything within my view which ought to be white, had been white long ago, and had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow.” Havisham won’t be walking down any aisle, least of all our runway.

Hamlet, Hamlet
Joining Mrs Havisham in the catalogue of painful expression of inward hardships is Hamlet, as seen in his macabre dark clothing such as his “inky coat.” Indeed, “the apparel oft claims a man.”

Mr Tumnus, The Lion, the Witch and The Wardrobe
Where Little Red Riding Hood fails to understand camouflage for walking in dangerous woods, Mr Tumnus fails to gauge weather (or common sense for that matter). Now this is not to say we shouldn’t follow Miranda Priestley’s scorning of those who’s fashion is strictly defined by season (lest we forget: “florals, in Spring? Ground breaking”), but Tumnus’ solo-statement-scarf number is ridiculous. Silly Mr Numbness and his ill-dress deserves the hypothermia which awaits him.

Stephen’s Mother, Ulysses
This look is as niche as the reference, taking the cliche fashion remarks “I’m dead” or “that look kills me” to the next (and literal) level. Stephen’s mother’s look is as dead as she is:

“In a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown grave-clothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a faint odour of wetted ashes.”