Dear Diary,
Okay, this is too rich. Give me a minute to laugh, ‘kay? Okay.
Alright, I’m...I can’t help it. Pommel gave me this silly notebook to write in. Said something about helping me deal with my emotions and whatever those psychologists are saying nowadays.
It’s really cute. That assistant of mine will do anything for a doggy treat.
Although I suppose I am her mentor, and I guess I got to humor her somehow, am I right? Of course I am. I’m talking to a bunch of blank pages after all.
Anyway, figured I’d write a little tidbit to keep Coco happy.
Dear Polomare’s Diary,
Yep. You better believe I’m actually putting my name on you. I figured that writing in this book ought to help me manage my emotions and all. Keep my cool, you know?
Anyhow, Coco said I’m supposed to write some summary of how my day went, how many ponies I talked to...oh...and all the drama and gossip that doesn’t make the headlines.
Speaking of headlines, I’m actually good friends with one of the gossip columnists for the Manehattan Times. We chit-chat every now and then. She gives me free copies a week ahead of schedule and I give her juicy rumors that keeps those columns running.
Anyway, nothing new in gossip, sadly. But this morning, I had Coco get me a latte instead of the usual black. Decided I needed to be a bit more adventurous.
More boring work again. That sponsor of mine...what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Bezzle Mint. Anyway, he sent me another letter as usual. Wants me to up the ante a bit with the fashion line.
Who would have guessed a publishing company would be interested in me? Well, they know style when they see it.
Coco also mentioned writing this like a letter. As if you wouldn’t know when I’m not talking to you. Oh well, might as well entertain her for the latte.
Signing off,
Suri Polomare, Adventurer and Fashion Entrepreneur
Dear Diary,
Do I really need to call you that? The name sounds so last century. I don’t know, maybe I’ll come up with a better name. I’ll get back to you on that, m'kay?
Today I got a letter from Prim Hemline! You know, the go-to fashion critic in all of Manehattan?
Anyway, I’m going to be in the next fashion competition. Probably seal the deal with Prim and all her connections. When I told Coco the news she literally lost it, poor sweetie. But it’s to be expected. After all, we’re all in it for the fame and glory. Well I'm mostly in it for the cash, but fame is cool too, 'kay.
I’ve told Coco before, but the rules of this concrete jungle are quite simple. Trust nopony. They’re all out for themselves. Only the winners come out. And just her luck that I’m the best winner.
She really is fortunate to have me as a mentor to teach her the ropes and all of this big city.
Come to think of it, perhaps I’m being too lenient on Coco. Might have to be a bit more stern with her during the competition.
Signing Off,
Suri Polomare, Guide to Manehattan.
Dear Diary,
Yeah. That name suits you perfectly, am I right? Well look at you blush. Or is that the pink lamplight I’m writing under? Doesn’t matter, cause you’d probably blush anyway.
So today me and Coco were the first to arrive. Gotta set a reputation and all. Since Prim was busy talking with the clerk, I decided to scout out some of our competition.
Wow.
Okay, all I have to say is what a bunch of L-O-S-E-R-S! Gosh, if they weren’t so distracted with drooling over Ms. Hemline, they’d have realized how gaudy and tacky they all looked. I literally saw one mare try to shape her mane into a block of cheese. Talk about ewww and no.
Oh, did you know this is the first time I’ve ever met Prim Hemline, the expert on all fabrics?
I’m not going to lie, but the critic’s probably never looked herself in the mirror. Talk about fashion disaster! It took all my willpower not to laugh.
Imagine Frankenmane and a werepony had a child. Then increase the ugly meter and you had Prim Hemline. She even wears this stupid coat to cover up her shriveled-up body. All in vain I say. Nothing can hide that dinosaur.
Everything was going well. My designs were sure to beat everypony else's’. Prim would probably be asking me for some advice on the city. Sometimes, I take time out of my day to act as an informal tour guide. Show all the glitz and glamor for a fair price. Nothing comes cheap in this city after all.
Prim would get one on the house though. You know, since she’s giving me that golden trophy.
But then...she showed up.
Okay Diary, brief history lesson. Before I became the spectacular Suri Polomare, I was a small-time filly in Ponyville called Surreal.
Do you even know what "surreal" means?
It means unbelievable or weird, ‘kay? In other words, not a title I like to have on my library card. Suri is my shortened version of it. Pretty clever, huh? Wish Mom and Dad thought about that before giving me that stupid name and braces in elementary school.
Anyway, when I was young and filled with foalish innocence, I dreamed of becoming a fashion designer back in my hometown. So I joined the Ponyville Knitters League. Some geek club that cared more about needles and hooftacks over style.
Being the compassionate filly, I worked non-stop to make the best costumes, the best dresses, etc. But then one day this new seamstress walks in and wows the crowd immediately. Okay, I’m not going to lie, they were pretty good. Not as good as yours truly but enough to beat.
The Knitter’s League threw my idea out the window and implanted hers for the grand finale. That night, we won the championship and I was packing my bags for Manehattan. I know you want to cry, Diary, but really it was all for the better. I mean, look at where I am now, ‘kay?
I figured I was done with Ponyville.
But then my columnist friend mentions her in the papers. Apparently she’s some savior of Equestria too. The Element of Generosity, could you believe it? As if that drama queen could steal any more of my thunder, I was forced to hear her name on every sidewalk and doorway.
Rarity.
Just seeing the name on you makes me want to scratch it out. But I’m more refined than that, am I right? Well the name’s still on there so I am.
Anyway, moving back to the present, I see her rushing through the side door, pretending to be fashionably late to impress Prim of all ponies. Prim just chews her out in front of the rest of us. I will give the lizard props for not taking the bait that every other fool in this city was doing.
After the introductions, I decided to make small talk with my old pal on the Knitters League. And do you know what she says?
She doesn’t remember me!
Even with that stupid change of name, ponies were calling me ‘Suri’ way before I left that cesspit of broken dreams and country hillbillies.
But she forgets me!
Oh, sure it was easy to pull the whole "didn’t-you-leave?" on me, but she has no clue why I steered clear of her all these years. For a fashion prodigy, she's really naive when it comes to taking a hint. Well, that worked to my advantage anyway.
As usual, her dresses were over the top. She’s such an overachiever. Coco’s designs look plain in comparison to her exotic fabric. Maybe I need a new assistant.
However, being the clever tactician I am, I asked her for a little swatch and she, being the dimwitted Element of Generosity she always is, gave me an entire roll!
I’ll just put Coco to work overtime. Make sure she doesn’t forget who the mentor is, you know. Maybe even put Coco on cocoa. Last time I did that, she pulled a miracle out of her flank.
Rarity’s presenting last in line too, which gives me the advantage of having my collection presented first. Not only am I bound to win, but Rarity's reputation is sure to fall.
Talk about killing two birds with one stone, am I right? Well...I guess a Diamond Dog proverb is a little alien in most Equestrian tongues, but I’m still right, okay.
Signing off,
Suri-ly Going to Win Polomare
Dear Diary,
Prim loved it! She said she’d never seen anything like that before. Which is true, since I’ve never seen anything like it before either. Rarity must have used some out-of-kingdom cloth. Better make sure to tell Prim this fabric doesn’t come cheap.
The best part is that it can work for just about anything. Buckles. Ties. Shirts. Dresses. You name it. I sent a swatch to my publisher and am waiting for his feedback. Probably going to get more funding.
Might buy another condo with the bonus. Thinking about Appleloosa. Wait. Do they sell condos in Appleloosa?
Things just work out perfectly, don’t they? Anyway, Rarity tries to accuse me of plagiarism and I in turn give her the old Manehattan lecture on the rules of this metropolis. That ended with her sobbing like a drama queen. Talk about embarrassing.
But what do you expect from a mare like her. She’s too sheltered to even realize how competitive the world really is. All protected in that tiny town of hers with her five silly, geeky friends.
At least I know the rules of this concrete jungle. Maybe, when she’s down and out of business, I could have her replace Coco. Could definitely boost my own reputation if you know what I mean.
And speaking of Coco, she literally took forever to get those dresses on my desk. I mean, I’m as patient as the next mare, but seriously? Thank goodness for my quick-thinking skills or else we'd be out on the streets before the competition even began.
Another disaster averted thanks to Suri Polomare. Coco ought to take things more seriously. Or is it...suri-ously? Huh? I like that. Suri-ously. Might have to put it in a magazine, won't I?
Signing off,
Suri Polomare, Inventor of the New "Serious".
Suri-Ously Diary?
By no stretch of the imagination did I anticipate her to have a contingency plan! Of all the meddling mares in my life, she’s the second worst...next to Coco of course.
The day started off sour. Coco got me the wrong latte and I had to send her back to get me the right one. Being adventurous is not good for my health after all.
Then the models were complaining that the sizes don’t fit. Of course they fit! They’re made extra small! What other sizes do models come in? Small? We don’t have a big enough walkway for that, ‘kay.
After our demonstration, we get seated in the back row. The back row! You’d think that Prim would put her stars in a more VIP-secluded booth but noooOOOOoooo. It has to be with all the other wash-outs.
Gosh, their complements are so annoying. I hate it. I mean, I love being complimented and all, but not from these dweebs, ‘kay?
At least I got to rub my victory in Rarity’s face before I left. But then the models show up with this garbage that came from her HOTEL of all places? Her hotel. How does one even get the staff to condone that?
I suri-ously lost my cool. And then, just as Prim is bending down on her knees to beg Rarity to blow a kiss, the fashionista runs out of the hall on some mission to save her friends. What a loser.
Suppose you can guess where this is heading, am I right? Prim decides to give a heart-warming speech about our hero and holds up her trophy, proclaiming her name like she’s Princess Celestia or something.
Has Rarity even met the Princess one on one? Bet she’s never associated herself with Canterlot other than the times they thanked her for saving the city. Will probably ask Jet Set if he’s ever seen her.
Whatever. I flung my second place cup to Coco as a thank you for all her lousy work. And then it hit me. Maybe this could work in my favor after all.
When life gives you lemons, lie that you got oranges and trade the lemons for something better. Like apples for instance, ‘kay?
Finding her five friends wasn’t hard. They were all moping in a restaurant. Almost felt pity for them. Almost.
Using my amazing orator’s skills, I convinced them that their friend lost the competition. And just as we were leaving, I run into Rarity again.
So I give her the same spiel I gave her friends. Something about Prim being furious and not wanting to see her anymore.
That got them all together and running down the street to watch some goddess-awful performance of the Hinny of the Hills. After that, I told Coco what a piss-poor job she did today but that once again, I saved our reputations. She’s so fortunate to have me, really.
Well, most likely going to win when Rarity “forfeits”.
Signing off,
Suri the Savior of Polomare.
I wonder if the Royal Guard needs new uniforms? That Shining Armor would look good in a Polomare chestplate if you know what I mean.
IN ALL THAT IS FASHION AND PASSION, WHAT THE MINOTAUR GESTURE OF AFFECTION DIARY!
Don’t give me that blank stare. You know what happened. Oh you don’t? Let me elaborate it to you, ‘kay? Oh bucking Kay!
So I wake up, do my usual stretch, and head for the plaza, right? And that’s when I see Prim and Coco talking outside the stage, glaring at me as if I just kicked a puppy, which I’ve only done twice.
Apparently, Coco chickened out on our little lie and told the truth to Rarity. She then proceeded to throw her career out the window by telling Prim as well.
Speaking of which, if Prim appeared ugly before, she was absolutely horrid now, scolding me on being a copy-cat, a liar, a backstabber, and a horrible employer. Oh the smug look on their faces made my blood boil.
After all I did for Coco! I nurtured her! Fed her! Taught her the rules of the jungle like a mother panther to her young. And she betrays me like this? Takes advantage of my generosity?
And Prim! Oh how I wanted to turn that Hemline into a flatline. Acting all snobbish and self-righteous after her appearance on the stage. It was like being reprimanded by a monkey!
Coco then tosses a scalding hot latte in my face (knew lattes were evil) and proceeds to walk out on me.
I wish I could say more, okay? But the rest of my day is a blur.
Anyway, I’m sitting here in jail now. Apparently, I tried to use a pair of scissors to give Prim a new mane-job. She ought to have been grateful for it. I was the best barber in college, you know.
Anyway, writing in this diary for the last time.
Signing off,
Suri-ously Screwed Solo-Mare.
Hey Diary,
I know I acted a little angry today. I’m sorry. You’re the only friend I have now, ‘kay?
My publisher doesn’t want to deal with me. That gossip columnist had a field day writing my scandalous career down the drain. And Rarity has apparently hired Coco as her new assistant. That backstabbing little...no...I’m better. I’m better.
Oh Diary, the things were do for each other. You had that silly nickname and I changed it to something way more suitable for you, 'member? And you...well...you listen.
I don’t know anymore. I guess I was so use to being a winner I didn’t expect to be...a...a...failure.
Gosh, I really hate that on paper.
The warden isn’t any more friendly. He’s been trying to confiscate you from me, you know? Says he needs to put it in some bin. I don’t have any cell mates to talk to either. I’d pay my own bail, but Manehattan is stringent when it comes to law and aggravated assault.
Whatever with them.
Lawyer said he was going to use the insanity plea. The worst thing that can happen is being sent back home. There's a reason I changed my name and cut all ties to that town.
The glitz, the glamour, everything in Manehattan that I adore will have their doors shut when I walk by. I wouldn’t even get the chance to lead one of my world-famous tours anymore.
I haven’t had any caffeine for twenty four hours. I feel frail, almost numb at my hind hooves.
Now the warden is banging on my cell. Just wish he’d shut the hay up about my case. I said I was sorry, ‘kay?
Stupid Warden for being a spoiled brat.
Stupid Prim for having no taste in fashion.
Stupid Coco for going loco and betraying my trust and generosity.
Stupid Rarity for taking away my destiny.
I hate all of them. They think they’ve tamed the lioness. Cut her claws and rendered her a helpless kitten like before. A kitten with braces and stupid contact lenses that she always had to put on.
Well...just they wait and see.
It’s you and me against the world, Diary. But don't fret. You’re quite fortunate really.
Suri Polomare is the best winner.
