The Doctor was strolling through the TARDIS, humming some 25th Century show tune he couldn't remember the words to, when he heard Rarity grumbling in his wardrobe.
It wasn't a wardrobe as in "a large, tall cabinet in which clothes may be hung or stored," but more of a walk-in closet the size of the TARDIS' control room. Clothes racks curved upward around a spiral staircase, holding all kinds of outfits from various times and planets.
"Oh, there you are, Doctor!" Rarity sighed. "I can hardly believe this room! So many outfits, and so few of them fashionably viable!"
"Well, I'll admit some of these aren't really the kind of thing I'd wear on a normal day, but – "
The fashionista grabbed his hoof and dragged him to the far wall. There, a podium stood, showcasing the trademark outfits of his previous regenerations.
"And these nine in particular – oh, where do I begin? I can hardly believe a colt such as you even dared to wear these!"
Looking at the podium, the Doctor realized that all the clothing in his wardrobe had become pony-sized, probably around the same time he had become one. Peculiar, he thought, but Rarity kept him from his musings.
"These first two aren't horrible," Rarity began, "but these styles simply don't fit you. They belong on someone much older-looking than you.
"The third gives the impression of a senator, diplomat, or lord – of which you are obviously none."
"Oi! I was knighted by Queen – "
This one is one of your better choices in fashion," the mare continued, "A sensible winter coat, hat and scarf, but these earthy colors are just so dull.
"The fifth one isn't terribly bad, but these cream colors are – what's this?" She raised an eyebrow. "Celery, Doctor?"
"There's a very, very good reason for that," the Doctor said defensively. "I was dealing with a Praxis gas allergy – "
"Well, you at least could have kept it in your pocket or somewhere else out of sight. The lapel is for flowers, not vegetables." She sighed as she looked at the sixth outfit. "Oh, this one's just awful. All these gaudy colors – ugh! And this next one's no better; plaid pants? Sweater vest? An umbrella cane? And all of them covered in question marks!"
"I'll admit, that was a bit of an…odd phase for me." The colt said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Rarity stopped between the last two outfits. "These two are definitely better than the others – not that that's saying much at all. This one is reminiscent of your first two, but it pulls off the look much better than they did. And this last one is odd, compared to the ones previous – it's so simple. All these subdued colors; were you going through a – oh, what's the word the foals use – 'emo' phase?"
"You…could say that," the Doctor replied.
"And now we come to your current attire," Rarity said, turning to the colt. "And I must say, it is the best of them all. A blue, red pinstriped suit, and its brown counterpart, completed with the accompanying tie and overcoat. Simple, yet dashing."
The Doctor grinned. At least she approved of his current fashion sense.
"But I'm confused, Doctor," she continued, turning back to the racks of clothing, "For someone as outgoing as yourself, you must have several more of those suits, but I can't find them anywhere."
"Oh, that's because there aren't any."
Rarity's eyes grew noticeably smaller. "There…aren't?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I just switch between the brown and the blue every now and then."
The mare sighed in relief. "Ah, good. That gives you time to wash the other." She paused. "You do wash them, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" the colt replied indignantly. "Well, a few times a month, anyway. At least twice. Usually."
It took Rarity a full five seconds of eye twitching for her to finally faint.
The Doctor sighed. "Note to self: never invite any more fashion designers on the TARDIS."