Tribulation is the Face of Fashion

by Hivemind

Rating: everyone
Tags: Coco Pommel, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Slice of Life
Length: 23402

Coco Pommel is in for a hectic week when she takes up entering a big name contest for a modeling firm in Manehatten for a chance of fame, fortune, and, lest she forget, bragging rights. Take that, Suri!

Coco Pommel has been proud to call Manehattan her home. Her career may not be at its height, but all those years of keeping her chin up are finally starting to pay off when her quest to find her better future leads her to open her own boutique, albeit in the less-glamorous part of town.

One day, an old friend happens to wander into her store and present her with a rare opportunity. One that offers rewards that outlast the dreams of any and every burgeoning fashion designer.

Can she pull through and prove her worth, or will she be forced to go back to her roots of being a hapless needle jockey?

Published 2014-02-12 22:50:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-30 01:45:07 UTC

Chapter One

I thought it was a one time thing, you know? Well, not so much one time, but just for a few days. I figured that Manehatten would have its ups and down, but I later learned that you only saw them through the ponies you worked with, and only a few at a time. Fashionistas were by far the most lenient when it came to working standards, but everypony else just had nasty old venom in their belly that poisoned their hearts a little more each day the longer it stayed. At least those days are over. With the help of my new friends, and Miss Rarity’s generosity through business advice, fashion tips, and even a donation or two, I...well, I just can’t believe my eyes! My own sign, and my own fabulous fashion workshop, oh joy!

...okay, so it wasn't located in the most preferable of the places. Cabs hardly, if ever, ventured to this side of Manehatten so the only way to get one was to walk several tiring blocks all the way down the street to the market district. As if having to lug around an entire rack of full of dresses and subsequent saddlebags full of makeup wasn't hard enough.

Even then, the street my boutique was located on wasn't the most visited of places either. It was pretty much the pinnacle example of how a glamorous, high-end city like Manehatten could have its treacherous flip side; it was located on the edge of downtown, and we all know what that means.

Still, I persevered. No guts, no glory, right? The first month of business was an alright one. My work with Prim Hemline brought in the recognition I needed to fill orders, and my time formerly spent with Suri Polomare...did not.

D’oh, Suri was just a no-good gossiping jerk! She may have been forced to give up some ground with her loss at last year’s fashion competition, but she was back on her hooves in a matter of days, going by this city’s painfully-learned code of misconduct and turning my new life as an independent designer into a living nightmare. I swore that goody two-shoes would get a taste of her own medicine someday.

But aren't bells just the cutest little instrument around? Especially the little ones that jingle and jangle with every little move you make, and their brass and silver coloration contrasted extremely well with soft colors. Why, I might just try integrating them into my next line as soon as I’m ready--

Wait, was that what I was thinking? Something must have gotten mixed in with my memoirs. What was I doing thinking about bells all of a sudden?

“Yoohoo~! Miss Pommel, darling~!” trilled the voice of a very special customer while the bell that sat on the edge of my countertop rang like a cuckoo clock gone mad. I hated when that ringing became so loud that it hurt my ears. Maybe all those months of getting yelled at by Suri took a toll on my eardrums.

“Nnch...Rarity!” I yelled, quick to slam a hoof down onto the silver bell and put an end to the racket. I started rubbing one of my temples while dragging the bell behind the counter (and making a mental note to dispose of it later). When that was taken care of, I looked up to the newcomer with smile on my face and a much-needed warmth in my heart. “A little more...patience next time, please?”

“Oh, but of course, Coco dear. My apologies,” replied Rarity with an apologetic grin standing on the other end of the counter and looking as fabulous as ever. She carried short bolts of fabric in saddlebags on her back in many assortments of patterns as well as the supplies to sew them into blue ribbon outfits ripe for the judging. “I was just out in the big city for a spell and wanted to see how my favorite competitor was doing, is all! And I just adore your sign over the door outside. It fuses so well with the colors of your mane. Gives the customer something more to look at when they first walk in, yes?”

Golly, I hardly ever noticed it, but Rarity’s visits always made me feel so distinguished. She had years more of experience under her belt while I still had a lot left to learn. She was my rock and the centerpiece of inspiration for nearly all of my designs. Included with her talent was the luxury of time to actually come up with all these neat ideas and techniques. Of course, I wasn't so fortunate, but until I could come up with my own innovations I was stuck trying to find room to wiggle in this broom closet they call 'creativity'.

“I’m doing pretty fine, actually. Well, fine enough.” I manage a nervous chuckle whilst rubbing the back of my head. “This place isn't wholly what I had in mind, but I’m still working the kinks out of it.”

“Wonderful to hear, darling. Oh! I just remembered I brought you a little present.” said Rarity, glancing into her saddlebags and removing the bolts of fabric to access its pockets better. A present, from Rarity, and all for me? I was overjoyed that she would display such generosity, and at such a surprise. I beamed like a bunny in cab lights as Rarity withdrew a notepad from her bags and began flipping through its pages in search of something important.

“No, no, no, no...have I got the wrong notepad? Maybe it’s...aha!” said Rarity, levitating an orange slip of paper out from between the pages and passing it to me. It was a simple business card advertising a modeling agency with a listed operations center here in the big city on the third floor of one of those tall office buildings on Mane Street.

“Sabot Petite? A modeling firm?” I asked, shooting Rarity a quizzical glance.

“Why, yes, but it’s not what you think it is, darling,” replied Rarity. “I've been in business with them for about a year now, but lately they've been running a little low on reputable designer lines to model for, you see. I’d see to this myself, but I already have my hooves full with orders and a rambunctious little sister with two equally-troublesome friends.”

“Oh? What are you saying?”

Rarity giggled. “Oh, what wouldn’t I be saying, Coco? I want to see you take the job!”

“Me?” I thought I misheard her, but Rarity had made plenty of her past speeches as clear as day before, and she wasn't fond of having to repeat herself. Still, I was ready to leap out of my coat with joy and give Miss Rarity the biggest hug my hooves could constrict her with.

“I hope I didn't stutter,” Rarity replied, tending to her displeasure for repeating herself with a broaching frown, but none too quick to replace it with a smile. “But yes, you! They are both a busy and demanding company to partner with, but the payout is virtually guaranteed. Though, I suggest you hurry. They hold interviews for new blood only once every month, and the next opportunity happens to be in one week from now.”

“Just a week?” I asked, looking up from the card in surprise. Mistakenly, I hadn't realized I poked Rarity’s pet peeve, but she didn't seem to mind this time. “Oh...” I frowned, biting my lower lip in trepidation. “I don’t know...”

“Oh posh, Coco. I could throw together two new lines and a sweater to boot in that time span. Think of it as a way to test your ability to impress, and maybe test the threshold of your creative muscle. Besides, they don’t expect aspiring designers to have a full-blown line ready for the season anyway. Certainly not in a month. All you have to do is present a few examples to their board of directors and you’re on your way to the big leagues."

“And...that’s it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow thinking there was more to this gig.

“Err...not quite,” Rarity replied with her smile turned sheepish. As I said, this was Manehatten after all, and nothing in this place was without its flip side. “They are a tad too prestigious for their own good, in my honest opinion, but that apparently hasn't stopped scores of designers, both new and experienced, from trying their luck. You’ll be facing stiff competition, make no mistake. Unfortunately, there’s another sour note to this show. They know originality when they see it, and I mean it. If they detect even the slightest little hint of uncertainty in a fresh design, they’ll throw you out of their office as quick as a flash, got it?”

When those prerequisites were listed off I swear I could feel my heart skip a beat or two. They sounded so restricting and convoluted, as if they barely left any room for any real creativity in favor of the common pony of fashion to begin with. No wonder it was so difficult to get a contract with them; they let the design pool evaporate so quickly and helplessly that what few designers still flopping about for a chance at fame were forced to push it to the limit and then some just to find their inspiration. I didn't think it was healthy at all, but Rarity couldn't have been more in love with the idea.

“Goodness...this is gonna take some work, Rarity,” I said, nervously tugging at my collar. “I’m not even that experienced here, a-and with business like it is now I’m going to need to devote a lot more time than usual just to whip something up.”

“Nonono, darling!” Rarity was quick to reply, waving a dismissive hoof in the air at me in clear disapproval. “Don’t just ‘whip something up’ and hope that it will pass their judgement at first glance. I know it sounds like a lot of work to put together a work of art, but trust me.” She then reached forward and laid a hoof on my shoulder. “I know you. You’ll do just fine come the day of the interview.”

I smiled softly at her kind words. Her personality was just the right amount of lovable. I would have followed her to the ends of Equestria just to hear her wisdom on all things fabulous and ladylike. I wasn't too fond of that second part, though. Poise and social conduct may have been important to the high-life, but, at my level, all that mattered to me was being a good person. Your character is what defines you, and not by how intimidating you can look when you stare down those you consider beneath you.

“You don’t have to take this job, you know,” Rarity continued, patting my shoulder gently. “You can back out of it whenever you like if time constraints put your livelihood at risk. Still, should you choose to accept it, please..." Frankly, I wasn't expecting what came next, but there was little not to like about Rarity leaning forward and pulling me into a hug. “Make me proud.”

Make her proud... I mulled the words around in my head a little, though it didn't help me ease up on my worries. I was still just a dreamer, but at least I had something new to dream about, if I could even make it over the first hurdle of accepting the challenge. Regardless, I wanted to show my mentor that I was true designer material, see my name in shining lights in every major city in Equestria, and prove to the world that anypony can accomplish anything they set their mind to.

And my mind was set on her.

Rarity left after that, but not without another goodbye hug and farewell wishes of good fortune. I spent the rest of the night in my apartment above the store, laying wide awake on the pull-out bed of my sofa in the "everything" room of my two room living space. The place was a little under-furnished, and cramped at that. The radiator leaked scalding water onto the floor and hissed so loudly it scared me awake on occasion. Did I mention that money was a tad on the light side? Listen, you're either bathing in bits or scraping by from paycheck to paycheck in this city, but I guess the same can be said for plenty of other places too.

I needed to get some sleep. I wanted to, but I wasn't that tired an hour ago. I was way too nervous to sleep now knowing that I had, at best, four days to prepare clothing fit for only the most demanding of nobleponies outside of royalty. It would take me at least a day, if not more, to think up what I wanted. My brain during the thinking process was less of a storm and more of a wet sneeze from how drafty it got in here at times. Nevertheless, I had faith in my abilities. Not only because of Rarity's encouraging words, but because of a dream; a real dream, mine. Fresh out of university, my designs were scoffed at, so much so in fact that I held an assumption that the few that bought my fabric thought they were getting a good deal on embroidered dish towels. But ever since parting with Suri, I had been made anew, my old slate scrubbed clean, my collar pressed, and ready to dive right into a fresh start.

I was going into this battle of the backstitches armed with nothing but a spool of thread and an old pillowcase for all I cared! And nopony, I repeat, nopony was going to blame me for their wrongdoings, insult me outright, yank me along by my collar, and drag me down with their failed attempt at success ever again.

Honestly, did they have any idea how much it cost to dry clean a collar?

Chapter Two

There was nothing like a steaming mug of rich hot chocolate with a warm and gooey breakfast crepe to liven up the start of a new day. In a corner cafe about a block away from my store, a painfully-long line of customers that nearly reached the front door waited semi-patiently to receive their morning cup of joe. Its clientele were of the usual Manehatten variety from business ponies to journalists, with an aspiring artist or two thrown in there for good measure. These ponies must have really enjoyed coming here in the mornings. After all, I was hard pressed to find any other reason to wake up an hour before opening for business. Either that or the cafe’s boost in popularity was a complete coincidence. I thought it was understandable. It was one of the few coffee houses this side of town that didn't smell of incense sticks and it was located close to a cluster of high-rise apartment buildings that shared streets with many taxi pick-up points. The coffee they sold was decent; nothing special. I personally didn’t like it, but it crossed my mind that the proprietor maybe couldn’t have cared less about the quality of its taste, especially not with the kind of money they’re making in this joint.

As tasty as it was, I didn’t have much time to digress, let alone sit around sipping cocoa for an hour. It was delicious but terrifyingly addicting, so I finished off the last of it and threw the styrofoam cup away. I hit the streets right after that, passing ponies by on the sidewalk chatting it up on their way to work or wherever it was life called them. My gaze flickered back and forth between the display windows of high-end stores selling all kinds of things from candy to candles to overpriced saddlebags with no practical purpose other than to look as if its pockets were meant for storing jewels and that is was possibly yanked from a dragon’s horde. Nonetheless, I wanted it; badly. Talk about those stitches...It would make me look less like me and more like a pony who needs to be shown respect. Alas, my coffers were as empty as my hopes of owning one, but I didn’t let the feeling stick and moved on with my day.

A quick trip to the local fabric store was the last item on my morning list before returning home to open up. I was very familiar with the place, but the diversity of its cortege was obviously lacking. It was mainly old mares, grandmothers, and other aspiring designers on a tight budget who shopped here, mostly to browse a new selection or sit and gawk at the display of colors in the thread aisle, of which there were literally thousands. They were friendly folk, and I recognized most of the faces while saying hello as I passed them by to the front counter.

All the while, I just couldn’t get the competition out of my head. No matter where I looked there was fabric to be felt. I could envision an easy incorporation with them using dress designs I already had, but I just knew they would get shot down at the first turn of the director’s head only because of how shockingly bad it would look, at least in their eyes. They must have been stuffier than a goose-down pillow, but that had to be expected.

The fears of utter failure were playing with my head again. Dresses, dresses, and more dresses were popping up everywhere! I got dizzy pretty quickly and ended up stumbling in my last few steps to the counter, giving out a low moan when I leaned against it for support. “Oooh...please...no more.”

“Coco? Is that you again?”

The manager, and the only employee, of the store rose up from behind the countertop, but not without an unsettling crack of her spine. It caught the attention of everypony in the store, especially after a resounding series of pops and crinkles that came from her neck afterward. Their painful winces intensified with each individual crick until the amount of air they sucked in through their teeth chilled their throats like ice. I suffered the worst of it, but for somepony as alarming old as Cross Stitch these were just things you had to expect. She was carrying a wicker basket full of yarn, of which she shakily placed onto the countertop before turning and looking out to the customers.

“Oh dear. My apologies, everypony! Just a little late night spring mattress trouble is all...” Cross Stitch announced to the store with a voice drier than a crusty sponge. It took a moment for everypony to ease up, but they accepted the facts of old age and were back to browsing in no time.

Cross Stitch’s age didn’t bother me one bit. Those baggy eyes had seen better days, but earth ponies were resilient like that. The skin under her turquoise coat had its fair share of wrinkles too, but unlike what most ponies would think, I liked to think of them as wrinkles of...pride. Yeah, that sounded right. Pride as a reward for being productive all her life and pushing through her ailments as if they were just a minor setback. Just combine all of that with a cheerful, dentured smile and you got a pony who’s willing to be friends with anyone.

“More mattress troubles, Cross Stitch?” I asked with a low groan, righting myself slowly but surely and rubbing the pain away from my forehead.

“Mhmm,” Cross Stitch replied with a nod while unloading the basket. “I should have replaced that dusty old thing decades ago. It hurts like the dickens, but I’ll live.” There she goes again, I observed. Always optimistic. That’s when I groaned from my headache again, and at an unfortunate time to explain myself. Cross Stitch, however, heard me loud and clear and interpreted it, glancing over at me with a curious eyebrow raised. “You feeling well, Coco? You look a little too pale for the land of the living.”

I was relieved to hear that she didn’t take the way I was acting the completely wrong way, as if I were dreading the thought of seeing her sticking around at her age.

“No,” I replied, lifting myself upright as the delusions went away. “But I’ll be fine, really. I just came by to pick up some specialty thread for a project I’m working on. The kind that sparkles and glows in bright light. You know the one, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m afraid you’re a little late, darling,” Cross Stitch replied with a frown. “Ponies from all over this town cleaned me out for what I had of the stuff about a day or two ago, and they weren’t my usual customers either. Mainly a bunch’a frilly ponies with scarves, those small and pudgy Prench hats, and tiny eyeglasses they wore on their muzzles that didn’t even make sense!”

I felt ashamed knowing exactly who she was talking about; they were the more “artsy” of Manehatten’s fashion goers, and they weren’t by any stretch of the word easy to best. They took their work seriously, and rarely settled for failure let alone opinions denouncing their flavorful creative spark. They reminded me of the nobleponies of Canterlot I heard so much about, only creepier, and snootier at that.

“Oh...alright,” I sighed, turning towards the generic thread section and moving slowly towards it.

“Whoa there, missy,” Cross Stitch spoke up, stepping out from behind the counter. She intercepted me and laid a shaky hoof on my shoulder. “What’s got you in a bind, Coco? Fess up.”

“I-I’d rather not trouble you with my own problems. Besides, I’m sure I may have just...ate something funny last night, or didn’t sleep too well in bed.” I tried to play things off with a crooked smile.

“I’ll say. That pull-out bed of yours must offer ‘bout as much support as a disgruntled housewife, or at least that’s how I see them.” Cross Stitch chuckled, “But really, Coco. What’s on your mind?”

I groaned lowly, lowering myself to my haunches as the explanation begrudgingly rolled off my lips. “A lot of things, like this fashion design contest held by this really prestigious modeling agency. Apparently they hold one every month to find new and interesting designers to promote. I already know my chances of winning are slim, if anything worth mentioning.”

“Come again?” questioned Cross Stitch, her eyes widening.

“Well, the ponies who I’m up against really have the upper hoof here, and compared to what I can do--”

“Nono, before that!” Cross Stitch urged on before roughly rubbing one of her ears in discomfort. “Darn hearing aids just don’t work like they’re supposed to.”

“The contest?”

“Mhmm, uh-huh!” She nodded, leaning closer in anticipation. “And?”

“It’s...with a modeling firm?”

“You mean Sabot Petite?” She grinned, her bushy tail wagging. “C’mon, spill the beans. There's gotta be more.”

“Well, yeah, but how did you know that?” I asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Only because everypony in this city who’s ever threaded a needle is up for it, that’s how!” exclaimed Cross Stitch with a crooked smirk of her own. Either that or those were her dentures about to pop out. She turned halfway and pointed a hoof towards a large, golden poster taped to one of the walls advertising Sabot Petite’s event. A few ponies had already gathered around to stare up at it, and in an oddly fitting arrangement I didn’t take notice of without a second glance. First was a mare barely out of her teenage years, then an adult, and finally, as weird as it seemed, an old stallion with wrinkles so deep that his pudgy lips and slits for eyes were perhaps the only mostly-recognizable parts of him. I never figured the contest would have touched the hearts of more than just the good-looking, let alone the young and old.

“That fancy-schmancy contest has been bringing in business all week!” Cross Stitch cackled. “I got enough scratch in the bank to retire three times over now, I tell you what. Oh, but pardon me for a moment.” She cleared her throat. “Frumpy!”

The old stallion by the poster now known as Frumpy was torn away from his viewing by the sound of her voice. “I thought I asked you to go to the market for milk an hour ago? These old bones aren’t gonna nourish themselves.”

“Ehh...” Frumpy mumbled lowly with a frown, smacking his lips together before turning and hobbling dejectedly behind the front counter. He grunted and groaned all while fumbling through items kept in tiny shelves behind it.

“And try not to forget the peach yogurt this time,” said Cross Stitch with a stern expression, and boy was she acting uptight about it. Frumpy responded with the same gurgling mixture of grumbles and grunts, appearing out from behind the counter with saddlebags strapped to his creaky back. His face alone made it look like he had enough with life and all of its ilk. But then, a rogue smooch from Cross Stitch fixed his face right back up into a smile.

“Be safe out there. Remember the crosswalks and whatnot, and just follow the signs back home," said Cross Stitch, calm and caring. Frumpy looked to her and sent a knowing wink her way before slowly strolling to and out the front door. I just stood there and watched the whole scene unfold from start to finish with eyes wide, but was relieved to find that the fulmination was settled with...wait, a kiss?

“You’re married?” I asked Cross Stitch in disbelief. “I never knew that, and I’ve known you for well over a year or so.”

“Oh yes, Coco.” Cross Stitch sighed dreamily, fluttering her eyes while staring off into the distance. “Eighty-three years I’ve been with my Frumpy Foulard, and not one has been wasted. He spends most his days sleeping in, which is probably why you’ve never seen him. He's a little cranky too most days all thanks to the times, but he’s still the same gentlecolt I’ve known for decades. Chivalry and all.”

“Is he entering the contest too?” I asked, hoping that I could put two and two together correctly.

“At least he thinks he’s in it, but every time he goes for the sewing machine he falls asleep standing up two feet away from it and wakes up forgetting what he was even doing in the first place," explained Cross Stitch. “But, and I have to give it to him, he knows sewing like the back of his crinkly hoof, ever since he was a youngin', making him a bit ambitious. He actually managed to enter something in that same contest a few years back. Of course, those snooty contestants shot him down long before the day was out. A bunch of stuck up brats is all they ever were! Speaking of which, have you cooked something up to enter in that contest too, hopefully something good enough to teach those primp and propers some manners?”

“I’m going for it,” I started, biting my lower lip gently as I looked away nervously. “But...c’mon. Would I or anypony courteous really want to do this just to try and best everypony who’s not themselves? It’s a sixty-forty chance of a win anyway, or maybe even just a roll of the dice to see who gets all the fame.”

“Hmm...” Cross Stitch pondered for a moment, tapping the tip of a hoof against her chin as the token cobweb-caked gears started to turn. “I’ll tell you what. What if you had somepony to sponsor you?”

“Sponsor me?”

“You know, for recognition’s sake. I know I’m far from the biggest names in the city, but trust me. I’ve got all the know-how you could ever need to give you a head start.” Cross Stitch chuckled, shooting me a wink that I blush sheepishly to out of honor before she jolted. “Oh! In fact, I know just what will kick things off for you.”

“Really?” I said, my tail wagging away in excitement. I thought that sponsorships only worked on everything but fashion at first, but I could have been wrong.

“You bet! It’s just back here,” replied Cross Stitch, turning and making her way towards a wooden door at the back of the store after swiping a hefty ring of keys from behind the front desk. The door wasn’t labeled when we arrived, but I had to guess that this lead to a storage room. Cross Stitch fumbled shakily around with the key ring until she gave a victorious ‘Aha!’, picking out and inserting a tiny silver key from the jingling bunch into the lock of the handle.

The door swung open and I was lead into an uncomfortably dusty and drafty room. I remember being an inch away from running into a mass of cobwebs just before Cross Stitch used a pull string to illuminate a single bare light bulb in the ceiling. The room was revealed to be small and bordered by wooden shelves supporting dozens of cardboard boxes filled to the brim and then some with fashion paraphernalia. Piles of old and worn beauty magazines occupied their own corner of the room alongside a rusty, rolling clothing rack where only a few hangers and dress carriers were left to hang and gather dust.

“It was hard for me to throw things away a long time ago,” said Cross Stitch, stepping further into the room and laying a hoof on a box labeled ‘Spinning Wheel Nationals’ and adorned with faded stickers of Equestria's great cities. "I just kept all of my memorabilia in here for safe keeping. Thankfully, so did Frumpy."

“I’ll say,” I said while I wandered around the room, inspecting the loose contents of a few of the boxes nearby, like a black and white photograph of a celebration from some sort of knitting competition fifty years ago, and a golden trophy in the shape of a spool. “The two of you have been in a lot of competitions.”

“Well, where else would we have gotten the brains for this kind of work?” asked Cross Stitch, relocating to the clothing rack and slowly sifting her hoof past each carrier. “But those days are long over with. We couldn’t keep up with both the changing of the times and our passion all at once.”

“Would you go back to competing if you had the chance?” I replaced the photo and trophy before trotting to her side.

“I was offered the chance plenty of times, but it wouldn’t be the same without Frumpy.” Cross Stitch brought down one of the carriers with its hanger. With a smile, she laid it out flat on the floor and turned it over zipper-side up. “Here’s the one. Oh, I know you’ll love it to bits. It’s one of Frumpy’s best works. It’s the same one he entered into the contest, and he hasn’t made anything close to topping this one since. Go on and take a look.”

“Frumpy’s design?” Suddenly I wasn’t feeling too sure about this. I figured this would be one of Cross Stitch’s winning showcases until the mention of her husband, guiltily, made my hopes sink deeper than before. I wasn't out to disappoint her though, so I tugged the zipper down the nylon bag and hoped for the best.

What I found inside instead was beyond my wildest imagination. It was a dress of nearly flawless design; teal in color, silver and gold in trimmings, but the way it was designed made it out to be universal in fitting. Was it even possible? I doubted that not even Prim Hemline, let alone Suri Polomare, could have sewn something like this so flawlessly. I was aghast at such an innovation in fabric-laying technique. It's mechanism blended in so smoothly that not even a magnifying glass could pick out a single wayward crease as Cross Stitch demonstrated to me following a hearty chuckle and a cat caller's whistle.

"Now that's the ticket for a front row seat of a pony’s own award ceremony!" exclaimed Cross Stitch.

“I-I don’t believe it...the colors come together so well, the neckline is even, and the seams are just phenomenally well-done.” I turn to Cross Stitch with a look of extreme shock in my eyes. “How in all of Equestria was this shot down? Frumpy’s work could have put those ponies who made fun of him to shame.”

“D’oh, I didn’t dwell on it. Besides, ignorance is bliss, ain’t it? I kinda left well-enough alone for his sake anyhow by not showing this to them myself. He’s too old to waste his energy prancing with the high class, and so am I.”

“Whoa,” I turned back to the dress, inspecting its velvety surface over and over again by bringing my muzzle only inches away from its surface whilst slowly pacing around it. “And you want me to take notes on it? I may need more than just a pen and paper. More like an entire scrapbook to document this work of art from every conceivable angle.”

“I don’t think so, Coco. That contest ain’t until a couple of days from now, and every minute counts in your case if you plan on winning, I tell you what,” Cross Stitch paused, sealing the bag and suddenly tossing it onto my back without so much as a stumble. “You take it!”

“W-What?!” I stammered, almost stumbling over in surprise and risking wrinkling the precious cargo I now carried. “I couldn’t possibly keep--!”

“Settle down, darling, before you give yourself a heart attack,” said Cross Stitch, following up with a kind-hearted chuckle. “What I meant was that you should borrow it for a little while, you know. Frumpy’s memory isn’t so good these days, as you could probably tell, so why not just get inspiration from his work instead?”

“...oh. That actually sounds...” I wanted to put this to thought for a little while longer than I should have. Cross Stitch and I have only been friends for about a year, and entrusting me with such a prized dress would make me more of a liability than an asset. Then again, it was less of a liability and way more of a criminal act to just leave this masterpiece on a hanger and not in the finest galleries in the world. My hooves were tied at this point. I would either make her proud or go down trying. “...like a great idea. I'll do it!” I picked up with a prideful smirk on my face.

“That’s the spirit, Coco!” Cross Stitch shouted, swinging her right forehoof in front of her out of encouragement only to then suffer from an impromptu crackle of an old shoulder bone. My muscles clenched up immediately after I heard it, and she reeled back to rub the pain away while giving me a sheepish, but reassuring smile. “There’s promise in you yet.”

Chapter Three

I got to work in a jiffy. With inspiration from that beautiful piece of clothing, nopony could say that I didn’t have a chance at winning. I had to handle it like fine art, though, but it was art worthy of all the showcases in Equestria. Only after business hours did I remove it from its protective bag, and only after pulling myself away from staring at it did I continue to work on sketching out my preliminary design. Guilty as charged, but this was my golden ticket through the shimmering gates of glamour and my immortalization in fashion. I liked to daydream every now and then.

By the ten minute mark, I already had the torso and neck dimensions drawn out and a few notes written in the corners of my medium listing potential problematic goals in the fashion industry just begging to be reached out to. Integrating Frumpy’s universal fitting design, the stroke of genius that would make the dress available to mares of all sizes and the focal point for this project, would be difficult, but doable. I didn’t dare dismantle the dress stitch by stitch to see how it was formed. Cross Stitch would never forgive me for doing so. I had to resort to more scrutinous methods instead, and I planned to inspect the dress thread for thread, but when I finally found my magnifying glass and a measuring tape I heard the bell above the front door jingle in the other room.

I wasn’t really concerned by its ringing this late at night. The door didn’t have a very sturdy built-in lock and the wind would sometimes blow it wide open. It was no surprise to me from day one that the price on the place was a steal, but I didn't mind. I walked into the store proper from my workshop in the back, not bothering to flick the nearest light switch as I made my way almost blindly to the front door. There wasn’t too much in my way anyway as the customer side of the sales floor was completely sparse. I wanted to make it more atmospheric like Rarity’s boutique, but my latest big influx of bits went into commissioning the store’s sign. Dress display mannequins were too costly to buy as well, so I either modeled the dress myself when I conversed with a client or let them do so themselves. Tapestries would have been nice, but the interior designer within me thought the place was a bit too...square to make it work.

I found the door by approaching the glow from a streetlamp outside reflected by its glass paneling. The effort it took to get it closed again was always a pain in the rear as the tumblers in the lock were mostly broken. Jimmying the interior lock back and forth was pretty much the only way to contain the door, which I did with a disgruntled huff, almost slamming it shut out of pure frustration even if it would have knocked the bell off.

Just then, the lights flashed on, and I let out a gasp as I whirled around yelling, “Who’s there?!”

Standing behind the counter with their backs turned were two mares who, honestly, I didn’t get to see enough of after hours; my friends from college, Snazzy Chic and Lily Harmonium, standing there and staring at me wide-eyed over their shoulders with Snazzy’s hoof on the light switch.

“H-Hey, Coco...” Lily squeaked, blushing cherry red through her bright green coat as she turned around and tossed a tuft of her blue mane out of the way of her eyes, giving me a small wave.

“I told you we could have just knocked, Lily. Look at how scared she is!” said Snazzy, trotting to Lily with a face of enmity.

“She wouldn’t have heard us all the way back there,” Lily replied, harrumphing. “And you were too eager to get going anyway.”

“What’s going on, girls?” I asked boorishly after breathing a sigh of relief. I usually never found an understanding in the girls. It was my fault anyway. We rarely ever got to see each other during the year given how busy we all were. Well, at least two of us were busy; myself and Snazzy, she being a tan-coated pegasus with a yellow mane who specialized in making various garb for other pegasi. We were both a part of the fashion bandwagon, and Lily, a unicorn, dropped out of the university we attended to become a music therapist, whatever that was.

“Party night!” Both girls cheered in unison, throwing their fore hooves up in the air.

“Or at least that’s what we call every Friday night,” said Lily smoothly, giggling.

“When we finally find the time anyway,” added Snazzy, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that much of a party to be honest.”

“Party night?” I asked, though I had a feeling I knew what they were going to say next.

“Yeah, party night! It’s where Lily and I hit up this wonderful piano bar in Manehatten Central. I just go there for the music and atmosphere, but it’s famous for offering a taste of some of the best the city has to offer. If you happen to meet with the right ponies, that is.”

“And we thought you might want to tag along for the ride!” Lily chimed in, her ears perking up. “C’mon, we know you’re busy, but that’s in the daytime, right? Surely you can take a night off every now and then?”

“I would love to join you, girls, but I’m working on a very important project for the store,” I explained while trying not to make it sound like a token excuse your average needle-nipper would use. They missed seeing me too, but I had to think of my growing business first, as much of a jerk as it made me out to be. “Like, super important, and probably one of the most important things I will ever do in my career. It’s due for submission by Wednesday, and I don’t have a lot of time to spare. In fact, I just started sketching out my ideas a few hours ago, and who knows when I’ll be finished?”

“You’ll be done when you’re done, okay?” replied Lily after grabbing hold of one of my hooves and yanking me slightly towards the door. She was almost always enthusiastic, but could never quite control it. “Live a little. That’s what big cities are for. Fun and big biz, but mostly fun!”

I was pretty torn here. Any memory of the last time I went out on my own or with anypony else had long since faded away ever since I began selling my work en mass. I needed to focus, but how could I if I was stressing over how to even begin making this dress?

I accepted their offer with a nod and a smile; timid but inviting, with a touch of hope for our three-way soiree to be over in a reasonable amount of time. Next thing I knew we were crammed side by side in a single-seated cab racing through the streets. Snazzy and Lily kept pointing out all the sights I had been “missing out on” one by one and in detail. If only I wasn’t so busy trying to keep my lunch down I would have actually enjoyed the ride. Our cab driver looked like a newcomer to the streets anyway, and rarely did he regard passenger comfort over what potholes to avoid, but I didn’t take his ignorance to the extreme because we arrived at the bar in no time. At least he knew his way around the back roads, unlike most other cabs that deliberately took the longest believable route to charge their customers more. We tipped our driver well enough and went inside.

What immediately caught my attention was a thick, and as I liked to refer it to, foul stench in the air of the bar; alcohol. Those who were innocent beyond Equestria’s borders could be easily forgiven for thinking we of the city weren’t anything but sunshines and rainbows. Manehatten had more than enough pleasantries to keep its populace in good spirits, but with a heavier emphasis on spirits. When the steam train replaced earth pony power, the inhabitants of the Frozen North and other parts of Equestria found shipping their giggle juice to be much easier. I remember that day when a long, exotic caravan marched into the city packed to the cloth roofs of their carts with the stuff. I didn’t drink it though, not even the soft stuff as I emphasized when I kept refusing Lily’s offer for some fizzy green beverage that I’m sure would have scorched the roof of my mouth. Ugh...

“Meh, suit yourself,” said Lily having been denied for the third time over. She gulped it down in one swig and daringly slammed the tiny glassware onto the table we sat at. I was amazed that it didn’t shatter. It would have at least been entertaining, unlike the drab ambiance the pianist was keying in like numbers on a tax sheet. At least that’s how I heard it. I wasn’t into music much, let alone bars. What I heard about them made me feel so uncomfortable. The mere thought of seeing dirty floors, rank bathrooms, husky bartenders spit-cleaning the mugs, and generally caked vomit coating the most absurd of surfaces just...no. Please, no!

“Why so nervous, Coco?” asked Snazzy, reminding me of how I wasn’t too good at keeping a straight face.

“We know you’re used to working a lot, but think of this as being for your own good,” Lily added, downing another Zap Appletini and quivering with glee at its apparently tangy taste. “Mmm~ This could use something more. What do you think, Snaz?”

“I wouldn’t know, Lily,” Snazzy politely replied. “I don't drink either.”

“Jeez, the two of you are missing out!” Lily smarmed, giggling while she stepped down from her seat and floated her glass down with her. “One or two never hurt anypony.”

“But the third or fourth, maybe even more that follow it, do,” Snazzy rebuttled, rolling her eyes with clear dejection towards one of alcohol's many consequences. “I’d figure you’d know that, working as a bartender part time and all that.”

“Hey, music therapy doesn't pay for itself!” Lily looked away, grumbling. “Neither do my student loans.”

Lily sighed and strolled away towards the bar. I could’ve asked for a glass of water to clear my drying throat, but was too apprehensive to even act. What I hoped would be a relaxing evening out turned into only a more stressful environment than my workshop.

“I don’t think it was such a good idea for me to come out here tonight, Snazzy,” I spoke up with a groan. I noticed a bowl of de-shelled almonds in the middle of the table and scooped up a hoof full, not even knowing why I did it. I didn’t even like nuts that much, but I went with stuffing them in my mouth anyway and gulping them down like rocks.

“Eww...” Snazzy clenched. “I don’t think so either. You don’t look too well.”

“I’m just really worried is all, about that project I told you and Lily about. It’s bigger than you think, and it could completely improve my career. You see, it’s for a contest.”

“For a...contest?” Snazzy appeared intrigued, leaning forward in her seat with a smile. “Go on.”

“A very special kind of contest, actually. No room for mistakes here. So much as a missing thread or two and the judges give you the boot.” I shivered, and I just had to make it worse for myself, didn’t I?

“Wait for it...” Snazzy started with a light squeal. “Is it...Sabot Petite’s fashion shindig?”

“Oh, don’t tell me--”

“I’m gunning for the prize too!” Snazzy exclaimed, clapping her hooves together with gleeful squeal. I was guilty for not acknowledging how expected this was of her. It was the talk of the town of the highest profile, and given how late I was ready to throw my hat into the ring, I felt I would have to snatch it right back out. Snazzy was a go-getter; always. Her best was never enough, and she would work for weeks at any task or project to bring out the best in her. What I had in store was very well in danger of being overwhelmed by a superior creative mind before the interviews even began. “Do you know what this means, Coco? We’re both competing to get our designs featured, and we’re friends! That means we can share tips and tricks, or even collaborate on what we make, then we’ll get to see both of our names in the shining lights of galas and runways all over Equestria. What do you think of that? Does it sound like something you’re up for?”

“Just...ugh. L-Listen, Snazzy,” I started with a mild stutter, hoping to gently ease the importance of the contest onto her shoulders rather than have what I say go in one ear and come out the other. “I’ve been looking forward to a chance like this ever since I got serious about making my own dresses. I had a few of Suri’s less-bossy contacts I could turn to for help back when I worked for her, but they were worth giving up when I finally quit as her assistant. I’m not trying to sound like a jerk, but...” Feeling the weight of the past bearing down on me, I rested my head on one hoof on the table before looking to one of Sabot Petite’s posters taped to the wall near the entrance. Noticing it when we first walked in compounded my worry even more.

“Don’t get me wrong. I want to win this contest as much as anypony, but I wanted to do something more with the big prize, you know? I don’t even know if I want the fame, or the slew of uptight paparazzi whose so-called entitlements involve poking fun at you all hours of the day.”

“You made plans for if you were to win?” asked Snazzy. "Bold move."

“Sure, but who wouldn’t? It would at least help me improve the standards of living I’m stuck with, but, meh, I’m not gonna daydream too hard about it in case I get too reliant on winning alone.”

“You got a point there,” said Snazzy with a shrug, partaking of the almond bowl herself. “I try not to, but it’s healthy to imagine a better future for yourself. That way you can set goals and do what it takes to meet them and all that junk. Like, my current goal is to produce the most original piece I can think of, something that kinda brings back the old days of Manehatten where dresses looked less superfluous and like they’re made out of fancy toilet paper or something. I’ve been working at it for a full month because it’s what I’m using to enter into the contest!”

“A full month?”

“Oh, believe me Coco, getting an early start is an absolute must if anypony wants a shot at winning this thing. It’s the earliest start you can get, and the one that mostly everypony uses because Sabot Petite announces the winner and showcases their dress design in the newspapers the next day. It lets you gauge what you have to work with, and the catalog of ideas gets shorter and shorter every month, so you really, and I mean really need all the time you can get to plan ahead.”

“Oh, merciful Celestia, come on!” I groaned with a whiny voice and pursed lips as I laid my chin down onto the table. “I know I have to race the clock, but now I’m questioning whether or not the fact that everypony else has a lead ahead of me is really worth the effort now. Is it? Please be honest.”

“Calm down, Coco. Not everypony makes the first hurdle,” said Snazzy with a reassuring pat on the back. “A good...two weeks, I guess, at the least should be enough to make something decent. It’s still up to the judges to decide who wins anyway, so you never know.”

“Just two weeks?” My ears fell flat against my skull while my pupils shrank, dropping like my weary thoughts pertaining to success. “I may as well count myself out right now. I have less than one week to come up with something for the contest.”

Snazzy stared at me with an astonished deadpan, blinking twice before replying. “...you’re fooling me, right?” I guess I deserved it, looking like an amateur to an amateur. There went part of her faith in me.

“If only, Snazzy. If only...”

We were both suddenly pulled away from our conversation by the sound of two hooves slamming onto the table. I bolted upward and nearly out of my seat, only to find that it was Lily returning with two vibrantly-colored beverages. They had a tangy aroma to them, which thankfully revitalized my senses while I settled back in.

“Drinks time~” Lily trilled, taking a seat on the floor rather than in her chair. “I know you girls will love these. They’re--”

“We don’t drink, Lily. Remember?” Snazzy cut in, pushing away the one set in front of her. I did the same. There was hardly any liquid in the glass to begin with. It was just stuffed with bits and pieces of apples, grapes, and slices of lemon while what I assumed was the actual drink was left to fill in the hair-thin spaces in between the fruity mess.

“Well, yeah, but these are non-alcoholic. Sangrias too, my favorite!” Lily giggled. “It’s pretty sweet stuff, more like fruit punch to be honest, so I thought you girls might want to give it a try."

Snazzy and I looked to each other with blank expressions. We shrugged, not really having any mixed feelings about it coming from an honest friend like Lily. The cold drink was put to our lips and to our palates in moments, and neither of us could have foreseen the smack punch of exotic flavor that took to our taste buds like a pro. Wide grins replaced skeptical ones, and we licked our lips clean.

“Whoa...” Snazzy awed at the glass in her hooves with wonder, giving herself a few moments peace to let her taste buds reach the nitty gritty of the fruity concoction and give it their seal of approval.

“Whoa indeed,” spoke up the smooth, alluring, yet sudden voice of another mare nearby. All three of us jolted and looked in the direction where it was coming from, finding it to be a slender, shapely pegasus of white with a violet mane and tail, both of which radiated with an impeccable sheen. Her hooves shined as well, all four of them seemingly subject to a recent hooficure and spa treatment complete with a spritz of perfume. At first, I thought she had put too much on, but then I realized it was just the effect of those hundred-bit brands, which cleared my nose like a strong breath mint with just one whiff. Neither I nor Lily knew who this mystery mare was, but it looked like Snazzy sure did when she turned away bashfully and took another, nervous sip of her drink.

“Do I know you, lady?” asked Lily, eyeing the mare closely. “You look familiar...like, freakishly familiar.”

“Didn’t you work here at one time?” the mare asked with a sigh as if she wasn’t ready to deal with the common rabble, which she was anything but. “Bartender, often snuck bits from the tip jar when nopony was looking?”

“Err...you might be thinking of somepony else.” Lily rubbed the back of her head, blushing a deep red. I wanted to laugh, but not in front of the stranger. She had an air of prosperity and meaning about her, or whatever the word was to describe somepony fancy but not of noble birth. They were as common as weeds growing in cracks on the sidewalk here in Manehatten.

“Whistling nonchalantly isn’t the most original of diversions, just to advise you. Anyway,” the mare paused, turning her attention to Snazzy who was trying her best not to be noticed, but she couldn’t keep it up forever. “Snazzy, darling, I never knew you drank.” The mare’s lips pursed into a sly grin.

“Hey, Madame...” Snazzy choked out, turning back around slowly and giving a short wave to the mare, her hooves shaking a little as she retracted her tail around her hind legs. “L-Long time no see, huh? And no, I don’t. It’s non-alcoholic.”

“Oh? But it’s a Sangria from the looks of it. I assume your...friend here made it for you?” Madame gestured idly to Lily, the way she paused in her speech somewhat irking Lily. “But yes, it has been a while, well over a year if I remember correctly. Since the gala reveal last spring, yes?”

“You know her, Snazzy?” asked Lily, shuffling a few feet further away from Madame with distaste.

“Same,” I added, turning to her. “Who is she?”

“It’s not that important, girls,” Snazzy murmured, shrinking into her seat. “She’s an acquaintance.”

Madame giggled playfully, muffling it with one hoof. “Not that important, hmm? Such a card, Snazzy. Your name suits you better than I thought, but is that really the way to introduce an old business partner?”

“Business partner?” said Lily and I in unison.

“And mentor...” Snazzy grumbled before glaring at Madame with displeasure. “Right before she dropped one of our biggest contracts and left me with a bunch of unfinished dresses and nopony to model them with.”

“Yes, yes, and then left you high and dry while I left for New Yoke City to tend to private matters. We’ve been over this before,” Madame replied with an uptight, but drab tone.

“But why’d you do it? My business was going to be big if we just gave them what they wanted! Heck, more than big! It was that simple.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, you were so quick to just throw away any reasoning behind what I was trying to teach you even outside the workshop?” questioned Madame. “You weren’t ready to ‘be big’, darling. Less than a year in business and already your head had ballooned with desires of glamour overnight after you observed every dress you’ve sewn. The mere chance of a miracle is a miracle in itself in the world of fashion, Snazzy, and not once on this earth is a single design ever going to win over the hearts and minds of those who have brought themselves to wear it, and not once should you ever expect it to. I can only hope I made myself clear to you now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Snazzy grumbled, looking away. I was a little worried. From what Madame said, it made out Snazzy to be pretty stuck up, but everypony has their moments, and so did I. We wanted nothing more than success coming out of university to actually kick off our careers; a smooth transition to the finer side of our passion. It wasn’t that being stuck up or pompous was entirely justified, which certainly didn’t favor Suri, but I guessed it was just another part of growing up.

“What kinda friend, let alone business partner and mentor, would just leave the ponies they cared for with nopony close to them to fall back on?” asked Lily, squinting her eyes angrily at Madame. The whole time she and Snazzy talked I wanted to bring up the same thing. Call me rational, but the high-class did not have the most gleaming record when it came to honesty and integrity. Canterlot may have had the worst of it, but we outnumbered those stove pipe hat-wearing snobs ten to one when it came to quantity over quality.

Snazzy took notice to Lily’s question and, surprisingly, was quick to defend Madame rather than persecute her for her crime against fashion. “Girls, let’s just not get too carried away. She had her reasons, alright? I know now.”

“What reasons?” exclaimed Lily, raising her voice a little and giving Madame the evil eye. “Were you not fancy enough for her? Is there some sort of minimum...f-fanciness level everypony in this turned-up town has to meet? Something’s fishy here and I ain’t buying it.”

“My my, you are rather hateful of those who succeed,” said Madame, looking to Lily with a disturbed expression.

“Only the snobs who insult my friends!”

“Lily, she didn’t insult me. I had it coming,” Snazzy spoke up quietly, rubbing her fore hooves together to ease away whatever shame still lingered. “It’s at least good to know why you left, Madame. I just wish it wasn’t so sudden. A sticky note on the sewing machine wasn’t the best way to say farewell.”

“Blame that on absurd train departure times, Snazzy, and a career of my own to look after,” replied Madame, lifting a hoof and tossing a lock of her mane off to one side of her head. She then smiled, turning her attention towards me for the first time since she appeared on the scene. “But enough of that now. Tell me, who might your friends be?”

“Well, you’ve already met Lily, and she met you pretty quickly, but this,” Snazzy paused, turning to me with a warm, welcoming smile and laying a hoof atop my shoulder. “--is Coco Pommel, a fashion designer just like me.”

“Truly?” said Madame, daintily reaching a hoof out to me over the table. “A pleasure, Coco.”

“A pleasure to meet you too, Madame,” I replied with a short smirk of my own, shaking her hoof and, for a moment, silently marveling at how pillow-soft it felt in my grip. “You and Snazzy were business partners once, you said? What did the two of you do together?”

“She made the dresses, and I worked my magic in modeling them for her.” Madame sighed blissfully, utilizing her handy chin cushions on the table to support her head as she leaned against it. “It was a brand new surprise every day, and we kept it up for a good eight months.”

“Where does the mentor part come in?”

“I was a fashionista all the same when I was younger, and have been for well over a decade, so I knew my way around just about every thread in the industry. Before that, a ballet dancer. I’ve found it rather difficult to earn a body like this--” Madame swept a hoof from the top of her head down, showcasing every inch of her slim and respectful form. “--any other way. Snazzy was looking for a model in the papers, so I took some time off from my...other hobbies and helped her out, gave her some pointers, the usual brain juice before I was whisked away by circumstances beyond my control.”

It was like there was a fashion designer on every street corner I came across. It goes without saying that the city had more of them than anywhere else in Equestria be they in nightclubs, among the wealthy elite, or maybe just in their living room, bored out of their mind and with fabric tools handy.

“I may need to whisk you away back here again soon, Madame,” started Snazzy, a revitalized grin creeping onto her face. “I’m entering a design in a competition, and it’s being held by Sabot Petite!”

“Ooo~ Sabot Petite?” Madame cooed, raising an eyebrow with stark interesting. “They are quite the organization, as I should know. Yes, I’ve seen the flyers all over town. It seems that everypony I know and their mothers are joining the fun.”

“I’m entering in it too,” I said, raising my right hoof a little to gain her attention. “A distant friend of mine told me about it yesterday, so...you know. It’s going to be a long week for me.”

“Then you may have to hightail it if you want to get something in by Wednesday. Every second counts.”

“While you three talk about knitting or whatever it is grannies do, I’ll just be...over there,” said Lily, gesturing towards no area in particular before taking her leave, though Snazzy and I both knew the bar was always her go-to destination when she was bored. Maybe she would have more fun discussing mixes with a fellow bartender before proceeding to debate with them on how “wrong” they were doing something.

“Speaking of hightailing it,” I started, slowly climbing down from my seat. “I need to get back home. I know it’s only been a short while, Snazzy, but thanks for the night out. This was fun, especially meeting your friend.”

“Not a problem, Coco! It's good to know we could clear your head up a little,” Snazzy replied with a cheerful smile. I just gave an affirming nod, letting her believe me while I trembled on the inside. Then, she took a final sip of her drink before slipping down from her seat in turn and walked past me before stopping. “Honestly, I got to get going too, but hey, Madame. Want to come by my place and see what I got cookin’?”

“Thank you, Snazzy, but no thanks,” Madame giggled. This time, she slipped down from her seat and walked past the two of us as if to make it to the exit first. “I too must depart, but I must admit, Coco. Your name rings a bell. Didn’t you used to work with one Suri Polomare? I think I’ve seen you with her before.”

“Y...yeah,” I gulped, hating it whenever old memories were brought up like that, especially ones with Suri in them. “But that was a long time ago, thank goodness. Why do you ask, Madame?”

“Oh, no reason,” she replied, flipping a lock of mane around to her front as she walked. “And, for the record just call me Curly.”

“O...kay?”

“Wait, Curly?” Snazzy spoke up with a jolt. “But I’ve known you for way longer and you’ve never told me that before!”

“Happy hemming, everypony,” Madame, or rather Curly, called out behind her with a coo as she continued on her way and left the bar into the cool night air.

“Ugh, she did have a tendency before to leave ponies in the dark like that,” said Snazzy, starting forward towards the exit to follow in Curly’s hoofsteps. “I’ll catch you later, Coco."

Talk about a weird turn of the tables. I wanted to leave first to get some peace and quiet on the way home as I didn’t feel like suffering through another taxi ride, but Snazzy nearly upstaged me, then Madame, or Curly, if that was her real name, beat both of us to it. Now, here I was, standing alone awkwardly in the middle of a moderately-crowded piano bar. I began to take my leave, but I was suddenly stopped by the sound of Lily’s voice behind me.

“Hey, Coco? Where did everypony go?” asked Lily, levitating a floating tray of shots she had with her onto our table before approaching me from the side.

“They took off,” I replied softly, suddenly feeling not so ready to leave yet. All that talk about fashion, dressmaking, and especially the competition put me in a worse off mood than before I even left my store. I was fine with discussing a few details, but hearing the same statistics over and over again didn’t sit well in my stomach at all, and going back to the workshop wasn’t going to change that. Even worse, part of it was my fault, and I didn’t imagine recovering from it anytime soon.

“Huh, I guess they did,” Lily concluded after doing a quick look-around. “How did it go? Are you and Madame friends yet or something?”

“Just...get me a drink, please.”

Chapter Four

A couple minutes down, take a swig of seltzer. Another couple, and another swig. It was the only thing I could do to sate my churning stomach, which was a toxic train wreck after the fiasco at the piano bar. Downing healing bubbly replaced my usual morning routine, and by morning I meant two in the afternoon. Numerous sangrias later, I made my stupid decision to stay that night and I couldn’t even tell my ups from my downs. Those drinks were so tutti frutti that they could have been alcoholic and I wouldn’t have even known it. Lily had already drank herself into a lazy stupor by the half-hour mark anyway. The flow of drinks stopped when she did, so I was a little thankful that she was unable to move in any direction resembling a straight line.

No more wild parties for this mare. I had to kick it into high gear if I wanted to keep my chance at entering the contest. I wanted the design stage to span just one day, but I made my foolish decision and had to make due with the weight of the consequences bearing down on my already aching forehead.

Even worse, I couldn’t think any better now than I did before. Experimenting with multiple designs to somehow better include the universal fitting scheme crossed my mind, but my waste bin became fuller than my head after the first hour. I wasn’t trying to sketch out a modern art masterpiece off the top of my head, colt dangit! Another hour passed and the floor space around my waste bin was no longer visible on account of how many balls of wasted sketch paper covered it; hundreds, I think.

I set my pencil and protractor aside and breathed a tired sigh, laying my head down sideways on the table. I stared forlornly off into the distance feeling my every hope slip away one by one in queue with the minutes that were just floating off. But I wasn’t that quick to give up, otherwise I would have been out of business long ago. What would my friends have thought if I deliberately let an opportunity like this pass me by? What would Snazzy, Cross Stitch, or even Rarity do at a time like this? I sat on this question like a bump on a log for a while until I heard a familiar jingle coming from the front of the store and was pulled from my deliberating.

It wasn’t right to get angry, not while my head was already pounding. If I was going to face a customer I had to look and act professionally regardless of my everyday gripes.

“Welcome, welcome!” I called out in an inviting manner as I strolled out of my workshop, continuing to let them know I was on my way just as I rounded the corner that lead to the sales floor. “How may I--”

I stopped as soon as I walked in. Nopony was there, as if they either up and vanished or thought the place was closed. I was starting to get worried until I noticed a stack of mail sitting neatly on the countertop; the daily delivery...only in the afternoon, late as usual. It wasn’t like the postal service was going to prioritize the downtown areas any time this century.

I reached for the newspaper at the bottom of the stack. It was the only paper worth bothering with among the countless articles of junk mail. A heavy, irritated groan was all I managed to express of my distaste before decisively giving up on work for the day. Not that I was lazy, but a moment’s rest was starting to become an unnecessary luxury.

The oaken door that separated the sales floor from the workshop slammed shut after I returned, the newspaper laying flat on my back. I gave what I had completed of my sketch a slow once-over, shaking my head in solemn dejection. I then made myself comfortable in a nearby armchair and took to sitting in as relaxing of a position as I could, my back laying flush in the crevice between the middle and back cushions, and my forelegs hanging over the edge of the seat. Sometime in the future I would come to realize that this sort of position creeped out more ponies than it did encourage them to at least give it a try; their complaints mainly consisted of how it gave me a strange “pot-bellied” look. I thought it was comfortable anyway.

The next five minutes were akin to a day at the spa in that it was something I sorely needed. I read through what the weather team was planning to hit the city with over the week, the funnies, some coupons, but then, I just wasn't prepared for what I saw next.

As quick as it came, my treatment was over, and I flipped the next big page wide open and beheld a massive advertisement for Sabot Petite’s contest with terrifying shock and awe. It looked exactly like the posters and flyers that were put up around town, taking up both pages of the newspaper and mocking me visibly with the company’s revered epithet. My nerves had been pushed to their limit. I crumpled the whole newspaper into one big ball and chucked it clear across the room as though it were a boulder, somehow landing it on the peak of the mountain of paper in the opposite waste bin. The precision with which it remained still without falling was remarkable enough to at least earn me some emotional payout.

If only it would have been. A harsh, unforgiving crack and a subsequent howl of pain forced me out of my barbaric mood. I winced while clenching my teeth and leapt out of my seat, whirling around to face the door. There was no way that could have come from me. My back wasn’t that bad from countless hours spent slaving over a sewing machine. And then it hit me.

“Darn fancy schmancy new-fangled corset!” A ragged voice from outside the door yelled out in anger. I was halfway through with calling out a who’s there before the door was flung open. Cross Stitch came through in a clumsy backpedal on her hind legs like a spinning top out of control. Alarmed by the fact that a single fall would do more than just leave a bruise, I gasped and rushed towards her, but she came to a quick, upright stop only a few feet from the back wall just in the nick of time.

“C-Cross Stitch! Oh my goodness, are you alright?!” I stammered out as I teetered in place from left to right, mirroring the old mare’s wobbly movements as she tried to keep her balance, which proved to be problematic with that...thing she was wearing around her entire midsection.

“Blast it all, those doctors, demanding that I wear this accursed back brace!” Cross Stitch yelled out with fire on her tongue, holding out her flabby arms to keep herself steady until she came to rest at last. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and looked down to her metal brace, wondering how anypony in the world could have, or would have, ever decided to entrust the health of any bone in their body to that nightmarish contraption. “Well don’t just stand there eyeballing it, Coco. Help me out of this thing!”

As hard as I tried, I failed to find any way to remove the oddity of medical science. It was clamped on with four bolts and tightened down with adjustable straps at the sides, but they provided only so much breathing room for whoever was unfortunate enough to wear it.

“Oh fiddlesticks, just forget it. It was Frumpy who wanted me to wear this vile thing anyway.” I wasn’t too happy with being unable to set her free, but there was only so much I could do anyway. I helped lower her to the ground, stepping away before letting her work out how to stand again. “Thanks for your help, Coco.”

“A back brace? I thought you hated these things with a ‘fiery’ passion?” I asked, working out how long she may put up with it after reminiscing on an old memory.

“I still do! But I guess Frumpy remembered that he had some concerns to speak up about, of all things. We went to the doctor and this is what I came out with, looking like I was some kind of broken mare.”

I winced when my forehead somehow remembered that I had a killer migraine. I figured I would be able to cope with speaking for a little while longer. “Well, I won’t say that you didn’t need it, but it would benefit more ponies to see you in a better state, medically-speaking, that is. Though, I do want to ask what you’re doing here this time of day. Is anypony watching the store?”

“I’m pretty confident with saying Frumpy can handle himself for a little while.” Cross Stitch smiled. “Speaking of Frumpy, I wanted to stop on by and see how my favorite little needle jockey’s coming along with her dress. Can you smell that winner’s circle yet?” She cackled, nudging my shoulder. “With Frumpy’s work for guidance, you’ll be a shoo-in!”

“It’s coming along, or at least that's one way to say it.” I nervously paused and glanced over my shoulder at my sketch paper, meagerly filled. Cross Stitch’s tail bounced with excitement as she hobbled to my work desk, but a frown replaced her timeless crooked smirk on arrival.

“Oh come now, what’s all this? Where’s the rest of it?”

“Not there.”

Cross Stitch looked at me with a disapproving glare. I guess that my number was up.

“Laziness ain’t no acceptable excuse I’ve ever heard of, Coco. Art ain’t nothing to slack off on.”

“I try, really I do!” I replied in desperation, slowly moving to her side. “Look there, and right here at these measurements! See, I can work this out. I don’t have your skill, but--” I sighed, turning around to face Frumpy’s dress, exposed and hanging on its rolling clothing rack. A hard lump fell down my throat. “I just don’t know anymore. It feels like I’m going back to basics too quickly. To be honest, it feels like I’m cheating.”

“Cheating?”

I nodded, my lips easing into a frown. “By using Frumpy’s dress. I wanted to utilize his universal fitting concept in my own way, but that’s not exactly original. I’m sorry, Cross Stitch, but this doesn’t feel right at all, taking art like this away from you. I wasn't trying to be inspired, I was trying to copy more like. I’m selfishly profiting off of somepony else’s hard work, and I swore a long time ago that I would never stoop that low, not after what Suri did. I never realized I was doing just that until now.”

“Are you sure that it’s too much for you to handle, Coco? Frumpy’s dress never actually made it to the judges so I don’t think they counted any part of it. That still gives you a bit of a chance,” Cross Stitch insisted perkily.

“No, I can’t. Deep down, I’ll remember that I didn’t give it my all in the design, even if I don’t win the contest, and if I do then the real genius won’t get the credit he deserves.”

I removed the dress from the rack and slipped it into its carrying bag, holding it out to Cross Stitch who glanced between me and the bag before gently relieving me of it. I felt a spark when it left my hooves. It was tough to let it go, but for the sake of preserving my honor as a mare of the spool it was well worth doing away with. No more would its presence trouble me. I gave her a little smile.

“Well, Coco, if you think it’ll help keep your head on straight—” Cross Stitch smiled with me. “—I’ll just put this right back where it belongs.”

I relieved myself through a sigh and wipe of the forehead. My desperate struggle to lift the huge weight off of my shoulders was finally over. Cross Stitch turned and trotted towards the door, her metal brace clinking and clanking as she hobbled, only slightly muffled by Frumpy's dress on her back. She stopped at the doorway and looked back at me. “Good luck, Coco. If you ever need a little help, you know where to find me.”

Cross Stitch took her leave after managing through a few embarrassing bumps in the doorway courtesy of her brace. She mumbled a few choice curse words under her breath after each one until I heard the front door jingle and shut.

I took in the ethereal quiet of the workshop again. It felt so homely when it was just me and my dresses. It may well have been the quietest room this side of downtown, and I never felt better.

...

My migraine vanished.

I was as puzzled as anypony would be. The fog had rolled away, and I could think clearly again. The reticence brought me to ponder. That darned dress nearly ruined me, and I meant that with absolutely zero shame. Art is as art would be. Along with my desire to improve quickly enough in time for the contest, I would be seen only as an even bigger neophyte if I were to even attempt to replicate it.

And I was happy.

I can do this. I know I can!

When did I begin to really learn about fashion? Typical of any student in the big city, I rarely paid attention in my classes. Giant, overcrowded lecture halls where all the seriousness advertised in the importance of getting an education was just not my forte, until extracurriculars rolled around. Working with real fabric with real volunteer artisans was a far better medium for learning from than pen, paper, and textbooks. It was paradise. It was how I met Snazzy, and how Lily met the two of us when we were paired for a collaboration project with her music. Even if she couldn’t tie a knot in a bow in save her life, we had genuine fun while we learned, the least that could be said for less proactive pursuits.

I suddenly came back down to Equestria. My pencil was between my teeth, and my old sketch lay on the floor nearby, a newer, cleaner, less irritating sheet in its place. I had sketched out numerous design possibilities during my trance, and I was elated to find that I actually looked at some of them with a sense of pride rather than teetering despair. What would have been an hour’s passing taken to draw a single curve or line across an already-flawed draft had been turned into progress.

I had to discard that sheet, or at least I set it off to the side for the initial layout. I recalled each of those designs from working with past clients, but getting inspired by my own work again made me feel like a whole new graduate.

The hours flew by like the birds that darted above the Manehatten skyline. I had never seen my hooves move so quickly before. So exhilarating! I felt the creator within me emerge from within its shell, ready to blaze a new trail into uncharted territory donned in formal attire of its own one-hundred percent original design. Pencil and pen went to paper and melded with it perfectly, spilling out years worth of afflatus as ink and dreams until I swore I could see a thin trail of smoke arising from the tips of my writing utensils. A chance to make something of myself was just four days away, and I couldn’t stop. Not now, and not ever.

Then, I had done it...sort of.

I leaned back in my seat to observe. My paper was embellished with notes, dimensional figures, and a single core sketch of the dress of my dreams. How I did it is a mystery of which I still lack the answer to this day. I was so proud, yet so worried that I may have done something, added something in that screwed everything up. For close to another hour I sat there cross-referencing everything I knew about my own work and the work of a few other choice designers.

The dress was flawless.

“I’ve actually done it,” I murmured to myself, lowering my paper with a look of astonishment on my face. “Heh...hehe...I-I did it! I did it, I did it, I did it!” I screamed, bouncing around the workshop in an erratic path that eventually found its way back to the drawing table. I speckled the docket with rosebud kisses and clutched it hard whilst spinning around in circles, overjoyed to see that my decision worked out for the better after all.

Of course, I was far from ready to light the scented candles and hit the sewing machine with a touch of jazzy ambiance. I didn’t even have the fabric to get started. How clumsy of me to be so under-supplied. It was a good thing I remembered where I hid my monetary strongbox.

~~~~~

Stripping my emergency funds apart for a bit of coin was something I bitterly hoped I would never have to resort to, but the contest was in three days. Three! This was no time to stammer out excuses for poor quality fabric.

I had a feeling I would start sounding like Rarity sooner or later.

The next morning, I headed into town and into Cross Stitch’s store. I waved how-do-you-do to the browsing elderly and a few other ponies I considered distant neighbors as I made my way to the fabric aisles. I felt like a colt in a candy store with how broad and enticing the selection was. Cross Stitch sure knew how to satisfy her customers. I couldn’t resist counting at least a dozen different shades of the most common colors before I could bring myself to start stuffing my bags with reel after reel of textiles. I was starting to feel really confident about this, provided that I worked at it hard enough.

While I moved down the display line, my ears twitched and signaled for my hearing to even out. I picked up commotion coming from the other end of the store. It was faint, but it sounded angry, so I moved cautiously to investigate. As I drew closer the voices became clearer in tone rather than word. Cross Stitch was one of them, but she wasn’t the angry one. I rounded the corner of a shelf and my eyes went wide in horror. Of all the ponies in the world to be there right then, I never imagined one of them to be a member of the scum of the earth.

“Suri Polomare...” I grumbled.

Suri was in a standoff with Cross Stitch like two vipers facing each other for territory. She was flanked by two mares -who I assumed to be part of her entourage- in the most ridiculously retro getups this side of Equestria. Did that particular leg of fashion come in twenty years too late for them or something? Neither of them compared to Suri's look, though. Her face alone was as despised by me as ever.

“And I told you that we’re fresh out. Don’t go asking me if I have any in the back again for the umpteenth time because I sure as sugar don’t!” Cross Stitch yelled directly to Suri’s face while a crowd of her familiars stood behind her in support.

“You have some nerve talking to me like that!” Suri retaliated. “Do you have any idea who I am? I could have this decrepit huddle house shut down in a heartbeat. You wouldn’t even see it coming.”

I did not know for certain what she was off on a rant about. More and more of the store’s patrons gathered around as their shouting became louder. I debated over whether or not to make a stand with them and let my voice be heard against the pragmatic menace, but the pride that would come from doing so of my own volition would not come to be when I heard said menace speak my name in a growl.

“You leave her out of this!” Cross Stitch replied. “She told me way back when all about you.”

There wasn’t any point in acting like I didn’t hear her, so I muscled up the courage and stood my ground alongside Cross Stitch. This throng of the elderly and differentiated tastes in fashion felt closer to an army now, radiating with a power of friendship and respect for one another. Suddenly, Suri realized she wasn’t in the best of positions, but she wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“Really?” she scoffed, glancing over at me like I was just another hapless peon deserving of her disapproval for merely existing. “I suppose it is true what they say about the bottom of the barrel —seeing this is obviously where you get your lost causes from.”

I bared my teeth angrily at that. “Get lost, Suri. This isn’t just another high-end outlet where you can practically pay to insult and smarm off to other ponies for as long as you want.”

“For your information, Coco, I arrived here as a paying customer because I heard this was the only store left in this city that sold a very special kind of thread. One that I was once willing to pay very handsomely for to get my hooves on, but it looks to be that will never happen, all because of the incompetence of its owner who boasts about how her face has more wrinkles than her brain has cells.”

That alone nearly pushed me over the edge. Cross Stitch snorted, a puff of steam escaping from her nostrils.

“To think that you would have been part of another of my greatest achievements now would be silly. I would never want to deal with a supplier with such a repugnant attitude. Especially not while I’m on my way to becoming the biggest name in Manehatten with a dress that will stun the world.”

Suri smirked, staring me down with a coy smile before waving a hoof at one the mares next to her. The attendant, a unicorn, tilted her head upward in a posh manner while her horn lit up with a magical pink glow. A dress carrier was levitated into the air from her back and floated around to her front for all to see while the zipper was haltingly pulled down.

Within and then without it, a dress, but this was as far from describing an ordinary dress as one could get without flying off the handle with enthusiasm and praise. I’m not going to do that. Rather, I will say its design was a bit of a generational farce. Determining which era of fashion the inspiration was taken from was and remains a mystery. Its upper and lower halves looked modest for their time, but the degenerating aesthetics that encompassed the appendages and the midsection said otherwise, like a complex brain teaser that one would rather guess at than expend the energy trying to solve it.

And that’s what made me angry. It was good —better than good— and I couldn’t resist locking my gaze onto it. And I feared it. I knew Suri, and she couldn’t resist a chance to upstage me after I quit working for her. We were bigger rivals than most ponies made us out to be if they knew. There wasn’t a doubt left in my mind that she was entering it in the contest.

“Take a good look, grandma, because there’s a pretty good chance you’ll be seeing this baby in stores all across Equestria. This rinky dink place?” Suri glanced at each of her attendants before all three of them burst into a fit of laughter. “Doubtful.”

Suddenly, all the talk that I heard about the strength of the competition appeared infinitesimally puny compared to the amount of worry I set myself in. Suri was either going to win or come in second to an even more skilled designer, and it was the latter that I feared the most. My miracle sketch from the previous day might have given me a chance, but it remained only a chance. It also struck me that I lacked the experience in the field to judge the elements of good design by several years. Things like uniform creases and the relativity of trimmings to their dresses and what eras they originated from were concepts that mandated a higher education, which I obviously didn't have.

My dress was still just a dress, but, then again...so was Suri’s. I began formulating an idea immediately only to then back the hay off of it when I realized what it would take to guarantee me a place near the top of the chain, but it was uncannily tempting to me with an incentive that was impossible to resist. What did I want more than anything in the world, again?

“Sorry to end off this lovely conversation with you all, but I’ve got contracts to fill.” Suri chuckled, turning and trotting away with her entourage as though she hadn't lost a single scrap of dignity, looking back at me from over her shoulder. “It’s been a delight seeing you again, Coco. See you around...but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Everypony in the store stared daggers into the back of Suri’s head as she nonchalantly cantered away, most notably Cross Stitch, who bolted to the doorway and shook an angry hoof at her as she crossed the opposing street, her brace seeming to have done very little to impede her sudden burst of speed. “Oh yeah? Well us neither! Good riddance to ‘ya!”

Cross Stitch sighed and turned around, her brace clanking noisily as she faced a crowd of shoppers that had congregated near the door, including myself at the forefront.

“Yeah, good riddance to ‘em! We don’t need that kind of sumptuous filth in these parts pushing us around!” One elderly mare spoke up within the crowd whilst waving her tennis ball-tipped cane triumphantly in the air.

“Who does she think she is? Goldy Laces? Well, don’t get me wrong. Goldy’s work is pure genius, but that doesn’t give her an excuse to treat us like nobodies!” said a young, amateurish mare beside me in turn, adorning spectacles and a red scarf.

Cross Stitch sighed again. “Alright, alright, everypony calm down. She’s gone now, and I’ll let that bright side shine on me all day long, I’ll tell you h’what. Go on with your day. Nothing more to discuss here.”

Everypony in the crowd complied, save me, going willingly with mumbles and grumbles hanging on their disgruntled breaths. They may have been a little glad to finally see Suri leave, but, even more than they, I wished I had never seen her in the first place. It only made me jealous, worrisome, and most of all, unusually irrational.

My dress may be a little different, I reflected, thinking back to the moment when my magnum opus was finally pieced together whilst biting my lower lip in trepidation. But Suri’s dress is something else entirely. Once, twice, and now three times over have I seen the stakes go up. What do you do if your absolute best just won’t cut it?

My concentration was broken by the sound of a corn husk broom sweeping across the floor. I looked over to find Cross Stitch tidying up the exterior of the store’s entrance by brushing dust off of the doormat, still looking a little crabby since her encounter. Then, an imaginary light bulb flashed on over my head. An idea had been born, but it wasn’t one I particularly liked.

Maybe she wouldn’t mind if I... I started as I made my way over to her. I could just say I’ve had a change of heart and stuff. It’d be for a noble cause, right?

“Umm...Cross Stitch?” I said as I stood behind her.

“Hmm?” The old mare put her sweeping on hold, looking at me over her shoulder. It sounded as if all her frustration with Suri beforehoof had vanished just as soon as her eyes fell on me. “Need something, Coco?”

Just let it out, Coco! C’mon, show her that you care.

“Y...yes, I do. How many championships did you say you won again?”

Chapter Five

Fifty-eight championships? What is she, some sort of super pony?

The stories of Cross Stitch’s incredible record-holding didn’t matter so much right now. What did matter was that I had Frumpy’s dress back, and even less time to spare. It took next to no effort convincing good-ole Cross Stitch to let me use it again, but I still had a feeling that I shouldn't have done it. Even then, it wasn’t the only thing I was worried about. I’m not the type of pony that do generally bad things.

I...may have borrowed a few newspaper clippings from her storeroom.

And some pictures of dresses.

...and a sketch or two.

My brain was screaming at me to stop, but I didn’t listen. After seeing Suri’s dress, I had to take any and every advantage I could get now. She wasn’t the only wolf in the pack, and it was going to be a constant battle to see who was to reign as the prettiest top dog in the puppy parade for a little longer than those before them. Before I walked in, I only, and I mean only had Frumpy’s dress on my mind. It was just too perfect to leave it to wither away in the next few decades.

But, when I removed the dress from its place on the storage room rack again, I couldn’t help but notice the dozens of boxes filled with assorted trinkets and other mementos from years gone by just sitting there on the shelves, with only layer after layer of dust caking the cardboard serving as a tribute to the living legacy they carried forth in memory. Inside were things like picture frames, sketchpads, magazines, and old newspapers...hundreds of them, and they all had pictures of dresses in them, the latest and greatest fashions of their time.

I shouldn't have taken them. I really shouldn't have taken them, but with today’s top designers finding inspiration in the wildest of places, what choice did I have? It was a nerve-wracking gallop all the way back home as over-exaggerated thoughts of getting arrested for this ran through my head, so I made a more solid vow to churn out this new design as fast as my hooves could sew and get them back to the store before anypony noticed.

Yeah, I said new dress design. I will never wholly admit that it was better, but Suri’s work and my work compared to the rest of the competition may as well have been doomed right from the start, mine maybe more than hers.

I rocketed down the sidewalk with the wind blowing through my bob-cut mane, darting around anypony who was in the way. I don’t think I’ve ran this fast since I was on my school’s track team back home in the Fillypines. I didn’t allow the heavy load on my back to keep me abated.

‘Three days, Coco. Three days!’ I murmured this as I ran to keep myself encouraged (you could imagine how well that worked out).

I was coming up on Mane Street, and things somehow got a whole lot quieter. I veered around the towering mega-bank of Trottington and Sons, slowing down to I could catch my breath, and immediately noticed a lack of carriage commuters on the road and pedestrians on the sidewalks. I gave a passing wave to a lone stallion sweeping the steps of an apartment complex, but other than that the entire length of road was barren.

Then, music began to blare all of the sudden within relatively close proximity to me, the tips of my ears flickering and swiveling to try and catch the source. I crossed another two blocks of complete emptiness until the music, echoing, became more prominent. Trumpets, tubas, oboes, and Prench horns blared noisily up ahead, and just when I thought I couldn’t get any more clueless, I rounded the corner to enter Mane Street and ran face-first into the backside of a peach-coated mare with a wild, deliberately unkempt mane style, all without looking. A little bit of hope for the future of the fashion industry shriveled away inside me, at least for the mane styles department. I whispered a faint ‘sorry’ before slipping past her and into the crowd, hoping to see what was going on.

A huge procession of floats, bands, and celebrities in fancy carriages steadied down the whole of the length of Mane Street with ticker tape raining down from the surrounding buildings and balloons floating about everywhere. The noise was at an almost deafening level of obnoxious, coming from both the huge crowd and the fanfare that blasted their music as far as their instruments could throw it.

I shook my head to clear it while pushing and excusing myself along my way to the edge of the sidewalk. Now only inches from the street, I stood there in surprise and watched as the floats were slowly tugged along. Everything had a theme of flowers and cute little animals, even the clothing the celebrities wore as they waved to onlookers from the comfort of their ostentatious rides. Fleur de Lis, Fancypants, Exqui Site, Frou Decor, the list just goes on.

It was certainly pleasant to look at, but then I remembered that I had a dream to realize. I turned to leave and ended up bumping into somepony else’s flank, only this time there was nowhere I could easily escape to. I sighed and awaited a harsh scolding.

“Hey, watch it will ‘ya?!” Shouted a mare’s voice over the noise, a voice of which I recognized more than anypony else’s.

“Snazzy?”

A familiar bronze-colored pony turned and faced me with a surprised look in her eyes. “Coco? Ohmygosh, it’s you!”

“What are you doing here, Snazzy?” I asked, leaning shifting closer to her as another band group passed our section of street.

“Duh! I’m here for the Salubrious Spring Day Celebratory Parade! Practically everypony in the city is out here to see it and celebrate the arrival of the first day of spring.”

“There was a parade today?” I asked with interest, and with a little irritation. How I could live in Manehatten for so long and never hear about something as festive as a celebratory parade was beyond me.

“Well duh, again! It’s been in all the papers, dead center on the front page actually, for like a week now!”

“...oh.”

When the band group passed us by, the crowds suddenly began to cheer louder. A humungous shadow crept over us and blotted out the light from above.

“Whoa, who turned out the sun?” asked Snazzy.

The cheering erupted into a full blown roaring, startling both of us. We turned and looked up to find one of the biggest parade floats yet looming over us like it ruled the streets. It was difficult to see who was standing on it with the absence of light, so I squinted my eyes in hope I could make out some, if any, modicum detail of the behemoth.

“See anything yet?”

“Argh, I can’t! Why would make something this big for a parade? Hardly anypony can see who’s on it.”

“We’re about to find out.”

The float wasn’t actually as tall as we thought it was. It was the inconvenience of an immense skyscraper that kept our vision abayed. We had to inch our way down the loud and cacophonous streets to keep up with it, until the facade of glass and concrete was cleared.

“Oh, oh! There it is! It’s...” Snazzy gulped. “It’s...OMYGOSH! SABOT PETITE!”

Have you ever wondered why pony bridezillas have been demanding taller and taller wedding cakes over the years, and how much of a struggle it must be for the bakers to make and assemble them with meticulous instruction and only with the most trusted of crafting skills (of which they practically needed to be a carpenter to shoehorn a way to hold all of the layers together, let alone upright)? I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that before until the moment when this giant of a parade float loomed over the heads of onlookers like it was the greatest thing since the advent of the wheel. It was organized in a whopping five layers, all of which were draped over by satin silk sheets embroidered with pictures of springtime flora. There wasn’t much else to the float besides the firm’s business placard at the front, unless you count all the supermodels flaunting in their gussied-up gait as they waved to Manehatten’s cheerful citizens. The floor of each layer was its own little runway for two.

“Are you seeing this right now, Coco?!” Snazzy stammered excitedly, squealing in delight as we stood there and watched the float slowly pass us by. “Just look at those gowns! You have to be, like, a magician or something to put something that good together! A mastermind even! Wait, look!” Snazzy redirected me to the peak of the float, where two amazingly well-dressed ponies sat side by side and waved to the crowds below. One was a stallion and the other was a mare, the envy of suave young ladies everywhere. They were holding hooves too, and they had diamond rings strung on necklaces hanging around their necks. No doubt that such a pair of well-respected ponies were married.

“Who are they?” I asked, squinting my eyes to get a better look at their faces dwindling from sight as the float moved away.

“That was Cufflinks Cortejar and his wife, Clarice. They practically own Manehatten’s fashion industry. That, and they’re the founders of Sabot Petite!”

“Wow,” I whispered softly, looking up at them as their proud presentation sailed away into the distance. Clarice turned her head around, supposedly to gaze back at the city’s cheerful populace, when she noticed my bug-eyed look and gave me a gentle wave. I blushed and looked away, not too keen to being singled out in big crowds. That was when Snazzy let out a gasp big enough to balloon her chest up to great size.

“She waved at you. She WAVED at you, one of my best friends! This is the best day ever!” Snazzy shouted before grabbing my cheeks and shaking my head furiously. She released me once I tugged on her hooves hard enough in an attempt to push her away. I readjusted the precious cargo of clothing and ‘borrowed’ parchments on my back.

“Th-This is fun and all, Snaz, but I gotta bolt. It’s really important.” I nudged Snazzy aside and made as quick of an exit as I could, timidly pushing others aside as well and apologizing for each and every little annoyance. “I’ll talk to you later!” I shouted as I ran through the fray.

“Wait, not yet, Coco! The fireworks emporium float’s almost here. You’re gonna miss it!”

A loud bang and a series of crackles and whistles suddenly filled the city block. Snazzy jolted and covered her ears, but a wide smile formed on her face as she pushed her way back to the head of the crowd to watch the brightly-colored entrepreneurial display up close as it passed by. An orange-coated stallion, who could best be described as another one of Equestria’s whimsical party ponies, sat atop a rolling vendor that puttered along to the tune of the steam engine that powered it. With dizzy laughter, he tossed firecrackers big and small into the air. When they burst in an explosion of sparks and confetti, small candies burst out with them, landing on the sidelines for eager fillies and colts to run up and have at them like hungry dogs.

“Now now, folks, now now. Freddie Confetti’s Fireworks Emporium has plenty more where that came from! And, every purchase of a six-pack of these fun little buggers gets you one of these.” The stallion leapt higher onto his vendor and whipped out a large red bottle rocket, of which many smaller rockets were attached, encircling it in a ring. “The Dragon’s Maw. Just when you thought his flaming breath couldn’t get any hotter, he gobbles you up when you least expect it!”

As the crowd gawked at the impressive explosive, the would-be madpony set the carrier rocket alight and placed it into a cradle. Many tense seconds later and it was off, quite so, like a rocket, arcing into the sky at incredible speeds.

...almost too incredible. The onlookers shook wildly in their hooves, eagerly waiting for the main event to fill the daytime sky with a splash of light and sound, but nothing came. It just continued to soar as though it intended on escaping the city. Slowly, their anticipation died down, and they all turned their confused looks to its creator, who was just as baffled as they were, as signified by how he nervously scratched the back of his head.

“...huh,” Freddie started, tapping his chin pensively. “I guess everypony’s gonna expect it now. I swear I mixed those powders just right.”

Then, to everyone’s great surprise, the main rocket exploded and showered the sky with gold and red sparkles. I slowed down and looked behind me just as I heard the explosion. It startled me, but it was marvelous nonetheless. That was when I noticed what sort of payload the firework had let loose into the sky. It was like somepony broke open a beehive! Dozens of little rockets swarmed over me, and for a moment I thought they were actually going to kill me, until they starting diving towards the ground, but it was still far from what I had hoped would happen.

I managed to retreat from the thickest parts of the crowd, but only so I could leave myself more exposed to the missile onslaught. They seemed to be coming after me exclusively. It was one of the craziest things I had ever seen! One after another they hit the ground and blew up only a hoof or two away from me, leading me to dodge them like deceptive little landmines.

WHAM!

I didn’t look where I was going. How could I anyway? I was being shelled like every grungy part of every war novel ever, but it was who was unfortunate enough to get ran into by me that was most worrying. Their inattentive flank could have ruined the dress!

I stumbled backward a short distance and rubbed the dizziness and pain from my forehead, blinking my eyes open to find that it wasn’t anypony I might have been expecting to be giving a stern talking-to.

“Lily?” I gasped, performing a quick check of the dress on my back and breathing a sigh of relief when I had seen that it was still there, safe and sound.

“Hah, hah...” Lilly panted, wiping her brow free of sweat. “A-Am I late for the parade?”

“Maybe a little. Sorry I ran into you like that.”

“Hey, it’s all cool. What’s up with the dress?”

I perked up at that, smiling and retrieving the dress from atop my back. Never would I have expected that, the very moment my lips parted to reveal my explanation, one of the many micro missiles would fly into the dress and swipe it from my very hooves.

“No! The dress!” I cried out in sudden alarm, giving chase to the priceless artistry as it ascended into the sky again on a trail of purple and gold sparks and leaving Lily as addled as the hardiest tree stump.

I was awfully scared that the sparks would cause the dress to catch on fire. Even in these high winds, heat and fabric were never good bedfellows. The fools to bring those two together when dressmaking are playing a dangerous game. Another thing that filled me with a sense of dread was just how far this little rocket was going to go. It just kept going up and up and further up still. It might have winded up on a rooftop or a flagpole, and there was no telling how long it would take to get it down.

Suddenly, my hoof got caught on something, and I face planted straight into a muddy puddle. The rest of me landed on top of some large patch of grass. For the few seconds I was down, I bewilderedly pondered how far I had been running to reach any sort of natural foliage in a city this developed. After shaking myself dry, I looked up to find that I had somehow ran far enough to reach Mane Street Park. Of course it had to be the park...

“Wait! Where’s the dress?!” I thought aloud, looking every which way in search of the high-flying dress. That’s when I heard the high-pitched whining of it whizzing overhead. Apparently I ran faster than it too. Being on the track team improved me more than I thought. Sadly, that didn’t stop me from personally witnessing one of the most horrific moments of my career.

The rocket that the dress had been riding on was finally, finally starting to sputter out and expend the last of its fuel. I was up and ready to intercept it as it plummeted from the sky, but a large pond in the middle of the park, directly below the falling dress, ultimately sealed its fate.

I skidded to a stop at the edge of the muddy bank, and was left to watch helplessly as the jewel of lower Manehatten drifted onto the pond’s dirty, algae-laden surface. I shrieked, loud enough for it to echo. My teeth chattered painfully on the edge of my fore hooves as I sat there, watching it sink. I didn’t know what to do. Save it or don’t save it, even if it could be saved?

That was when I noticed the resident pond dwellers, small fish, frogs, ducks, and the like taking a pique interest in the priceless fabric, and they began to swim towards it. I panicked even more and jumped straight into the murky waters. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I didn’t care in the slightest if I got a little dirty. Rarity...might have done the same.

“Ack! Shoo, shoo! Go away!” I yelled as I thrashed about in the water, splashing and making a scene in an attempt to scatter the unwelcome scavengers. The little critters swam away quickly, but a lone, stubborn duck stuck around and grabbed the bottom half of the dress with its strong bill. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry at something so cute before. “No! That is not for you!”

I grabbed at the upper half of the dress and tried to paddle in the opposite direction, but the unshakable waterfowl wouldn’t give in to oppressive earth pony power. It flailed its feet and wings about, kicking up plumes of cold water onto my face. I must have looked like a complete buffoon combatting a duck in a pond and somehow losing to it. My makeup was ruined, but I would NOT let it have that dress! I tugged harder and harder, wrestling with the black-billed devil, until...

RIIIP

We were thrown away from each other, myself further than he. I landed back on the bank of the pond, dazed and confused. The duck, on the other hoof, quacked and flew away like contending with things five times bigger than itself was an everyday activity.

“Nnn...” I moaned, then felt the dress’s comforting touch in my hooves. I breathed a sigh of relief and held it up to look it over, and then...darkness. Just like that, I blacked out, or at least I think I did. That part of my memory seems to have disappeared.

Just...uhh...just give me a moment. It’ll come to me eventually.

Author's Note

Deeply sorry for how long it took to update any of my stories in my absence. Getting a job does that to your schedule. ^^;

Chapter Six

Oh, right! Now I remember...though I really wish I hadn’t now.

I awoke sometime after my little tussle with the forces of nature. I couldn’t hear any angry duck calls or feel rays of sunshine smugly beaming down on my face, so I assumed that I wasn’t in the park anymore. What I could feel, on the other hoof, was the comfort of my own bed back home. I could tell because my pillow felt like a rock.

Like I did every morning, I slowly rose with a groan, my eyes blurry and the sheets reeking of pure, boggy stank. My mane was just...uggh. I don’t even want to talk about it right now. Completely out of it, I wasn’t prepared in the slightest for the wake-up call so charitably provided by those who were in the room with me.

“Shh, quiet! She’s waking up.”

“She sleeps like a rock, y’know?”

“Hardly. It’s just after what happened is all, though she could use a little something to—”

“I got it, I got it.”

RIIIP

That sound, that oddly natural cry from a length of fabric in need, got me up faster than you could say ‘fashion’. I shot up from the bed, thinking that it was one of my own creations being vandalized.

“Gah!” I gasped, my knees shaking as I landed on all fours atop the bed. My hooves rapidly pitter-pattered in place atop those filthy bed sheets as I looked around the room, frantically searching for any sign of the endangered cloth I had heard.

Then, in a bittersweet moment of cognizance, I remembered that I hadn’t made anything even remotely related to clothing in the past few days. Vexation and countless social blunders were my only output from all that manic running around like a outfit-less model at a runway gig.

“There we go! See, Snaz? She just needed a little kicker, that’s all.”

The moment I heard my friend Lily’s voice and snapped my head around in her direction, my willies were in a little trouble. They didn’t know what to do next; either calm down knowing that it was just my friends who were there, or...react to what it was Lily was...h-holding...

“THE DRESS!” I shrieked as loud as I could, every hair on my body snapping up like they were bathed in starch. Where do I even begin with this?

It. Was. Awful.

I hope you don’t mind if I leave it at that, plain and simple. I don’t think I could bear looking back on it today in detail trying to explain what all had happened to it...but I don’t want to leave you in the dark like that. Okay, I’ll go quickly, if anything just to get it over with.

...to be honest, I don’t know how else I could describe it without resorting to a poor summarization. Sorry to dissapoint you, but there was almost nothing there, literally! It wasn’t even a dress anymore. If it were a dress, then a barge was a billion bit luxury ocean liner. And no, I’m not over-exaggerating. You having to see it to believe is the best answer I can give you.

Actually, scratch that. Thinking about it has made me angry all of a sudden. This thing wasn’t a dress anymore. It could have never resembled a dress in its current state. It was a rag, the dirtiest of them all. Imagine wearing the most tattered piece of brown-stained cloth imaginable, something that once used to be so beautiful, so pristine, and so expertly crafted that even the thought of its perfection being ruined in any way would give the most committed collector a seizure.

And Lily Harmonium was holding a piece of it.

“Dress?” Lily started, seeming confused as she glanced between the tapered fabric she held and the literal fashion disaster sitting in a wet pile on the floor. “This thing was a dress?”

“Unhand that, you ruffian!” I nearly made Lily faceplant into the floor when I swiped the shredded fabric from her. My lips and eyes quivered, brimming on the edge of tears. Of all the things that could have insulted a designer’s work, jibes like that were among the worst, but I didn’t hold her to it. She hardly knew what was going on during the competition and likely couldn’t care less if a dress wasn’t one of my own, or looked like it.

“Whoa! Chill out, Coco. I didn’t mean to do...whatever to it.” Lily did her best to apologize. Even though it wasn’t a real ‘sorry’, I didn’t mind.

“We found that...dress laying next to you when we found you by the park pond. It was a mess, to say the least.” Snazzy spoke up, stepping closer with a damp rag laying on her back. My forehead did feel oddly wet when I woke up. Even if the feeling was momentary, it felt good knowing that they took care of me up until this point. It made whatever anger I felt towards them for handling the dress vanish completely. “You were soaked to the bone, and you smelled pretty bad too, no offense. What in Equestria were you doing out there anyway?”

“Wasn’t that the dress you had when we ran into each other? It looks familiar.” Lily added, thinking back to the few seconds they had when they met each other in an unfortunately painful way during the street festivities.

When I didn’t reply, Snazzy came up to me and laid a hoof on my shoulder. Yeah, I guess I should have taken a breather before popping off like that, but the dress...I just didn’t know what to do. That matter was far more urgent than they realized. “We’re sorry, Coco. Was it the dress you were planning on entering in the competition?”

“No...but I would’ve if I could. It used to be a masterpiece, Snazzy. You should have seen it for yourself up close,” I sighed after having calmed down enough to make some decent sense with my words. I sniffled and rubbed the moisture from my eyes. “But that’s not the worst of it...this wasn’t even my dress.”

“Really? You didn’t make it yourself?” asked Lily, wide-eyed. “I don’t think I’ve ever known you for wearing clothes that you didn’t make on your own.”

“Whose was it then?” asked Snazzy.

“It belonged to an old mare named Cross Stitch, but it was really her husband who made it.” I replied, breathing softly. “But there’s more to it than just that. She’s the greatest fashion designer I’ve ever known. She’s won dozens of awards, almost countless. She’s just incredible. You could give her a box of scrap fabric and she’ll turn it into something anypony would want to wear. It’s like she has her own magic touch, even though she isn’t a unicorn.” Snazzy and Lily exchanged nervous glances. “She was kind enough to let me borrow this great creation so I could examine some of its features to help my own design, and now it’s ruined, no prettier than some greasy garage rag.”

“Coco, don’t feel so bad, girl,” Snazzy spoke up sweetly, laying a hoof on my back as I sulked. “If she was kind enough to let you borrow the dress, then she must be pretty understanding as well. Who else would entrust something of such value to someone who needed it the most? I envy you a little, really.”

“Like, yeah. She must be a pretty cool gal pal. It makes me wish I had somepony like that to help me through my studies back when I didn’t...you know, drop out,” said Lily.

“It can’t be that hard to tell her the truth about what happened. Any tailor, dressmaker, or seamstress worthy of the respect of their clients knows that a dress is still just a dress, no matter what it’s made from or even from who it was made by. Curly taught me that.”

Cross Stitch may have been old and worn, but she was an old mare with a heart warm enough to coach a once downtrodden silly filly like me the moment I stepped into this city. She had seen her fair share of the fashion world evolving, forever changing through trends and technology. I felt confident knowing that she would understand, but I wouldn’t leave much to chance as I held on to a hope that she would accept my modest explanation at the absolute least.

“You’re right, Snazzy,” I replied, allowing a rosy smile to arise. “Cross Stitch and I are too good of friends. Even I know she wouldn’t let this get to her. I value our friendship more than any dress in the world, and I know she does too.”

Snazzy and Lily, in turn, smiled at that.

“Besides,” I started, stepping away from them and exhaling a spirited breath. “I was taught better than to rely on just one source of inspiration. Everything is going to be okay. I’ve got this covered.”

I skipped over to my dresser and removed several photographs from its drawers, showcasing them to my friends upon my return. “I took these pictures of the dress on the day she first let me borrow it, just in case something went wrong. Though it’s only a visual aid, I should be able to use these, maybe even recreate her dress myself. I have plenty of time, after all. How long was I out for? A few hours, maybe?” I guffawed with a hint of gaudy confidence on my voice. “This should be a snap.”

I was really enthusiastic about getting back to work on the project that would change my life forever. Snazzy and Lily? Not so much.

“Coco, I don’t know how else to tell you this, but you’ve been out for over a day.” said Snazzy.

I felt my heart skip a beat.

“As in it’s nighttime right now,” Lily spoke up, standing beside my window before parting the curtains. The city skies were their usual mixture of black with assorted hues of streetlight yellow and neon. Not the sort of sight I had hoped for. “We tried to wake you up after we found you, but you wouldn’t budge, so we, y’know, stayed here after we brought you back.”

“But...that means the contest is in...” I started with a shaky mumble, then paused as reality came to my doorstep.

“One day.” Snazzy gravely announced, glancing to the heap of tattered fabric on the floor. “Tomorrow.”

One day. The words rang like the harrowing bells of a cathedral in my head. So early in my career, I had faced the truly impossible, an event that would have left me scarred if I didn’t have my friends by my side. I never felt so defeated before. Something that could have gone so well, win or lose, and I was made a ruin within days of taking up the challenge reserved only for the elite of the elite. It wasn’t a question of where I would go wrong, but when.

But, as Snazzy embraced my somber and sulking form, I felt my inner self, that bundle of confidence and daring that brought me to leave my home in the Fillypines and settle here in Manehatten, lash out in protest, and it was right to do so. I worked so hard just to get my feet those few inches off the ground. It moulded me into the pony I am today, but there wasn’t a way in the world I could have done it all on my own.

I had friends to aid me every step of the way. My mother, my father, and my little sister stood by me through every kind of pain life could throw at me until the moment I stepped aboard that cruise ship bound for Equestria. They wouldn’t want me to give up on anything, especially not after how far I would have traveled through the planes of trial and tribulation.

The events of one day, maybe even less in my case, is a lot more weight a pony can have on their shoulders than one would think. Some things might seem like an impossibility, but nopony is there to say that it truly is, through and through. My family wouldn’t have wanted to see me as I was then, left a lowly needle jockey scraping by day after day in a cramped living space. Cross Stitch wouldn’t have wanted to see me like that either. And Rarity...

I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere in life without her. If it weren’t for her and her friends, (meeting an actual princess was still pretty cool) I might have remained Suri’s assistant for many years to come, and when she would be finished with me, my usefulness spent as seen in her eyes, she would cast me aside just like all of her other “friends” turned towards unknowing, unwilling, indentured servitude. For once in my life, I was putting my hoof down.

A puff of steam blew from my nostrils. Stoic, I pulled away from the hug and scooted Snazzy aside. “That’s all the time I need. I know I can do this.”

“Time?!” exclaimed Lily, perturbed while she pointed out the time on my wall clock. “Morning’s in less than eight hours, Coco! Even I know that’s nowhere near enough time to make something impressive enough to be entered into that contest that high profile.”

“Yeah, Coco! What are you thinking? You should really save your energy. There’s always next time, right?” Snazzy followed.

“I know what I’m doing now, girls. It may be a long one, but I have a shot at winning this thing,” I replied, a smooth exhale from my nostrils calming me further as I bring up a smile. “All that I had done just wasn’t me. Besides, Lily, it’s like they always say. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Impressive or not, it’s up to the judges, and myself, to make what we see of things.”

At first, Snazzy and Lily looked to each other as if they both thought I was out of my little pony mind, but the change in their expressions to suit a calmer mood told me that they were contemplating what I had said, determining its moral weight. Moments later, Snazzy let out a sigh and returned her attention to me. “All right, Coco. If you think you can do it, and do it well, I’m really in no position to slow you down, even to begin with.”

“Yeah,” Lily started. “I’ve taken some risks that seemed pretty...dumb before, but yours ain’t nearly as bad as the ones I’ve tried. Hey, with your level of skill, maybe you’ve really got this.”

“D’oh, girls!” I giggled before stepping forward and pulling them into a big hug. They shared a laugh right along with me and returned the hug with warming gusto. With friends like these, I could do just about anything.

Except wait, of course. I had to get to work pronto!

You’ll have to excuse me if I’m a little out of it when it comes to detail here. I don’t remember if I was tired or just pumped. Snazzy and Lily left a short time afterward, wishing me the best of luck along the way, and I wasn’t going to question whether or not I needed it this time, but I also wasn’t about to second-guess myself. An award-winning dress in under eight hours and a, hopefully, passable replacement for Frumpy’s dress; a tall order for sure, but a manageable one.

I bolted down the stairs, paying no mind to the storefront knowing that it was well into the dead of night. The familiar stammer and hum of the workshop lights turning on set in the mood I needed to lift myself out of the rut I was in before. I moved to the tiny metal trash bin piled high with crumpled balls of paper and picked up one of the many, unfolding it. Most of what was written was gibberish born out of the frustration I endured during the first round of brainstorming. There were some notes here and there amidst all the cartoonish kitty drawings that came into being with the boredom that swiftly followed it. It wasn’t much, but it’s what I had to work with.

I glanced over at the other wall clock I kept in the room. Only a few minutes had gone by, but each and every one of them that ticked away were precious to me. Talk about a gauntlet, and to think that Rarity went through this nearly every day, but I shooed the doubt away again and went straight to work.

Things got tough right out of the starting gate. What details that I couldn’t make out with my pictures of Frumpy’s dress were certain to be found within that same pile. My hooves were already numb by the time I finished uncurling and unfolding each wad of paper just to read them for the few minor, but useful snippets, but I persisted. A deep desire to rush things found itself clawing at my head by the time I got through half the pile, and, to some extent, I complied. How could there have been so many papers in there anyway? I was sure of it that I didn’t remember being so determined yet so frustrated all those days ago to waste so many of them when it clearly wasn’t helping me.

But my efforts paid off. I had scraped together all that I could in a half-hour’s time and practically dove for my supply closet before yanking everything I had off the shelves down to the last spool of thread. With a deep breath, and my hooves delicately placed upon the fabric, I started up my trusty sewing machine and had engaged with step one. The low hum of the device’s motor kept me calm and freed me of my sense of urgency. I knew time was at a premium, but, for a friend, my dress would have to wait for later. This was an art project, not a piece of homework.

But after I put that thought in my head, I couldn’t help but look back on moments from the good old days of Home Ec.. Most of them involved my days at the university and how they were on Snazzy and Lily, myself included. The biggest assignments really hurt us. Tight deadlines, high expectations, and general fears of failure are what kept us up in our dorm rooms at four in the morning, but those same prerequisites gave us a rush like we’d never felt before. Headaches, eyestrain, and the chugging of countless Wonderbolt-brand energy drinks aside, we had a really fun time together. I used that same vigorous boost to push my skill to the limit.

So much for not comparing this to homework, but it seemed to be just what I needed. Two, maybe three hours went by like a breeze and...I’d done it. I didn’t think it was possible, but I had actually managed to replicate one of the most finely crafted gowns in all of Manehatten using nothing but a few pictures and some piecemeal notes, including the universal fitting ‘mechanism’ that made it so remarkable. It looked almost exactly as I had remembered it given how attached I was to it when I first got my hooves on the original. I wanted to ogle at it some more, but time was still against me. I would perform final checks on the more minute of the details later.

With a confident smile, I rose from my seat and stretched my legs as I went for my supply closet again, but stopped halfway once I remembered that I had already emptied it. I even double-checked before looking back at my work table with a nervous frown. I didn’t leave much left of what I had to work with for my own dress. Only a few spools of thread and two half-depleted bolts of garishly plain fabric, and not in the same colors I had imagined it to be in. I clenched my teeth at that, taking stock of this unforeseen situation. Stupid budget cuts shrunk what little surplus of fabric I had. But, just as I grew worried, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I was lucky enough to still be in this contest, and, at the very least, I had already finished reproducing one work of art. Nopony could fail to paint with just one color, so there wasn’t much I could complain about. I set everything up at my table and cracked my hooves in preparation for one heck of a brain teaser.

Just then, I heard the soft jingle of the storefront door opening. I jolted and went into the hallway, realizing that I hadn’t locked the darn thing like I should have done hours ago. The wind must have blown it open again, and if that wasn’t the case I always kept a golf club behind the counter. It just might find some use here as something other than an unwanted Hearth’s Warming gift (no offense, Lily).

I rounded the corner cautiously and flicked the lights on. To my relief, I found no deviants in the lobby. Not even the door was blown open like I had previously thought. My gaze moved around the room until something that had not been there before caught my eye. A large cardboard box was on the counter. I figured that somepony must have came in through the (foolishly) unlocked door and left it, but who? I looked around the room again before slowly approaching and opening it with a careful touch.

The inside of the box could only be described as a treasure trove. There were fabrics, thread, tassels, and other paraphernalia of all shapes, sizes and colors jam-packed in there. It was the savior that I needed, but as I reached in with greedy hooves I suddenly remembered that this just wasn’t mine to take. I didn’t order nor pay for anything like this. Maybe the mailpony delivered it to the wrong address earlier that day and the bell above the door rang just by coincidence.

It was while on that same thought that I came across a folded slip of paper tucked away in a corner of the box. Further intrigued, I removed and unfolded it, eager to potentially find out if it was addressed to anypony in particular. What I read from it next was quite the surprise.

Coco-

Snaz and I figured you might need these. Odds are you’re cooped up in your workshop, but you’ve got to come out sometime, so I hope you get this in time, but she just me made walk halfway across the city not even at the crack of dawn to bring them to you, so you had better be wide awake. Make this one count, girl!

-Lily

Slowly, my lips curled into a heartwarming smile. They had to have been Snazzy’s personal supplies, and a lot of them by the looks of it. It must have been hard to let it all go. Talk about friendship, right? Everything I needed for my dress and then some was in there. All I had to do was piece it together, stitch by stitch and thread by thread.

Morning had come at last. The work after the first dress went just as fast, if not faster. I know it’s not that interesting, but I have to admit that the making of my own competing dress was easier than I first thought. I was gifted with the materials, endurance, a few mugs of cheap homemade coffee, and the memory to recall exactly what I wanted to make; something simple and plain, yet not all of it the same, THE key principle I was taught whilst studying the art of the dress at the university.

Everything I had been through lead up to that day. When I left my workshop again I had my first enjoyable glimpse of sunshine in days. Feeling that kind of warmth on my coat prompted me to stand just outside my front door and bask in it until an odor reminiscent of sweat and general grime beneath my coat floated up to my nostrils and made my whole body clench. My finest hour would have to wait until I was clean and presentable, but then I realized that it would have to wait just a teensy bit longer. I had to get to Sabot Petite’s headquarters on the double! Donning a replacement collar and snatching up everything I needed onto my back, I sped out the door and made haste for the awakening city center.