The "Contemplative Yet Demure Urban Boi"
Flash Sentry sighed. He lost count of how many times he'd done so that day.
He passed the time like he passed so many storefronts, shuffling aimlessly down the belly of downtown Canterlot. His lazy eyes were glued to his smart phone, yet he kept himself vaguely aware of bodies within his peripheral vision—so that he strafed left and right to avoid other pedestrians along the straight, narrow sidewalk.
It was a dull, spring afternoon with a spicy odor that lingered in the lukewarm air. That day was the umpteenth week into allergy season, but it was the one thing that didn't afflict Flash. This was good; going out for walks was one of the only ways he could keep from staring into the abysmal shadows of his room.
So, naturally, he chose something else to depress himself further: Social media.
“Awful,” he muttered, one hand stuck in the vest pocket of his hoodie. “Awful.” He flicked the screen of his Twitter feed between every breathy outburst. “Super awful.” As he continued scrolling, a notification popped up... and he sighed again. “Dang it...” That morning, in a bout drowsiness, he had indignantly replied to another person's post with an unnecessarily tangential stab of political nature. Sure enough, the response he got was just as scathing and dismissive as he deserved. “...friggin' A. When am I ever going to learn...?” His eyes squinted as he highlighted a particular phrase and tossed it into his Google app. “Now... what exactly does 'neck yourself' mean?”
So submerged was Flash in his digital deluge that he barely noticed the voice of a familiar fashionista echoing across the upcoming storefronts. Rarity—in all her eloquent goodness—was pontificating theatrically towards the bright blue heavens. Flash flimsily registered a pastel treeline of hanging dresses... along with a petite seamstress with sea-green hair who was filming the ongoing streetside vlog with her cell phone.
As the young man shuffled closer to the scene, Canterlot's best blossoming dressmaker twirled another individual's delicate frame. There was a flash of light, followed by a noticeable color change to the figure standing beside Rarity.
“And feast your eyes, darling! Lyra Heartstrings! Not as you once knew her—but ahead of the curb(tm)!” Pale arms did a dance in the air, accentuating the loose sleeves and gold-laced hem of a halter top over a pencil skirt. “I call it... 'Nocturne of Fashion!' A most unforgettable look: perfect for an evening soiree at an elegant penthouse! Or perhaps even on a deep sea yacht!” A dainty chortle. “You see, the open sleeves allow for both upper-body breathing aaand easy access to a life preserver! Both gorgeous and utilitarian!”
Flash drew closer. The faint image of Rarity did a ballet pirouette before grasping the shoulders of a pink... pink figure.
“And here we have my most lovable, bubbly friend, Pinkie Pie—”
“OooOooh!” Fuchsia bangs flounced up and down in the air. “Do me! Do me!”
“Cute. Casual. But hardly in line with this week's theme of Street Chic Evening Magnifique!” There was a wave of an invisible wand. “But just allow the party balloons of playful mischief to carry our imagination aloft and—!” Rarity spun a cheering Pinkie Pie. There was a flash of light, and the party planner re-materialized in a long flowing number of trailing salmon silks. “Voila! The 'Countess of Cotton Candy Clouds!'”
“Woohoo! I get to marry a vampire!”
“Ahem! Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Darling. Pssst! Coco! Zoom in!” Pale hands once more did their elegant dance. “I present to you Pinkamena Diane Pie! In all her ethereal sugary brilliance! Notice how the skirts hang from high up—allowing maximum movement and flow?! Every move she makes is like she's painting a happier and happier sunrise with each twirl! A pastel-colored dream-maker that is bound to slay at any evening gathering! Sailor take warning! Or this case, a good dental plan! For this dress is bound to cause cavities!”
“Molar?! I hardly even know her! Snkkkt—teeheeheeheeeee!”
By this time, the wandering, head-bowed Flash had flipped back to his Twitter app with a confused frown. “Oh for the love of cats. How /b/-tarded do you have to be?” Yet another long-winded sigh. “Then again, I did ask for it...” He chose to surrender with a meme-worthy image as his response, and had nearly threaded his way through the racks of dresses on the sidewalk...
...when those fashionista forearms stopped him in his tracks.
“And now—ladies and gentlemen—we have Flash Sentry.”
For once, the young man tilted his head up. “What—?”
Rarity's thin, frail wrists were somehow herculean enough to pivot him towards Coco Pommel's camera lens. He froze in place—pigeon toed—as the smaller teenager crept around him with a sly grin.
“Notice the dark gray hoodie!” she exclaimed hoarsely, like describing wild game. “The shrugged shoulders! The simple, cowlicked hairdo that positively moans 'I'm a tortured soul in a nihilistic world and I positively refuse to get out of bed.' Unnh!” She bent backwards with a limp wrist draped over her “fainting” expression. “How positively plebeian and emo!” She then stood straight up with a curling smile. “Well, we most certainly have a solution to that, don't we, darlings?”
“What—?” Flash tried again, but then nearly dropped his cell phone as he was violently spun like a top.
Before he knew it, his whole world turned bright—with the sound of playful chimes all around, and maybe even a few harp-strings. The sky danced with glitter as he finished his revolutions, scuffling to a stop on stiletto heels against the sidewalk pavement. He looked down to see that his ankles, lower legs, and knees were exposed beneath several layers of translucent gold skirts that were swish-swish-swishing to a stop.
“WHAT,” he exhaled, and when he inhaled he smelled vanilla perfume and strawberry hair-conditioner.
“Behold!” Rarity flung her arms at him... h-her... them(?). “The 'Contemplative Yet Demure Urban Boi'.” She sashayed around the elegantly dressed soul, highlighting every embroidered inch of his platinum cocktail dress. “An exquisitely feminine collage of floral motifs shields his delicate, yearning soul from the unruly ugliness of the world! And the matching flowery neckline makes him look and feel embraced by beauty at all times! And—to remind him how truly precious and meaningful he is—there's an adorable little bow along the waist's sash that ties the ensemble up so very nicely! Eeeh-hee-hee! Chic. Knows. No. Boundaries!!!”
“Uhhhhh...” Flash tasted his lips, sampling a thick layer of honey-flavored golden gloss. His eyes darted up to see his blue hair pinned up exquistively with an elaborate golden barrette. “Uhhhhh... how in the heck—?”
“Oooo-la-la!” Pinkie Pie twirled towards him and leaned in close enough for the boi to see her wagging eyebrows. “Lookin' good, Flashie!”
“I... uh...” Flash smoothed out the skirts in a desperate attempt to cover his miraculously shaved legs. A passing breeze foiled him, and several appreciative whistles emanated from a random football team jogging across the opposite sidewalk. “I-I don't know how I should feel about this...”
“Ooooh!” Rarity reached behind a dress rack and pulled out a bag with flashy gold sequins. “Did I mention it has a matching purse?”
“Oh gosh...!!!” Flash Sentry's eyes immediately sparkled, and he cupped two dainty hands to his rosening cheeks. “Does it come with a shoulder strap?!?”
“But of course, darling! After all, Street Chic is all about appropriate accessorizing—” Rarity looked towards the curb and immediately scowled. “Coco Pommel! What have I told you about drooling while filming the vlog?!?”
Author's Note
