Pistachio walked out in his pinstripe suit, feeling very embarrassed. He always used to show his mom the outfits he picked out or made, but he didn't really feel like it this time. The only reason he did it was because he knew she'd be expecting it, and the last thing he wanted was her worried questioning about whether or not he was okay.

He walked out of the dressing room and saw his mother browsing in the middle of the mare's section. He started to walk over to her, but ran smack into a pony coming out of the mare's dressing room. She slipped and fell, though he hadn't run into her particularly hard.

"Ow," she muttered. Pistachio offered her a hoof. She took it and tried to stand back up, tripping over the dress's excessive amount of fabric and falling back down. Twice. Finally, she lifted it up in the front and stood up properly. She laughed awkwardly.

"Sorry about that. Thank-" She cut herself off when she got a good look at Pistachio's face. She whipped her head behind her to look at Pistachio's mom, almost hitting Pistachio in the face with her purple ponytail in the process. She looked back to him, her eyes narrow as if she was trying to recall something. Then, her eyes widened.

"Oh! I knew I recognized you from somewhere! You're that fashion designer! It's…" She paused, thinking. "Pistachio, right?" she finished, smiling.

Oh God. It was another one of his fans. And by the looks of her spoon earrings, she was probably one of the ones looking to make a 'statement'. Don't get him wrong; he loved his fans. He just wasn't in too great of a mood at the moment, and if she was looking for his approval on her dress, he'd have to let her down. Her dress didn’t exactly look flattering with her skin tone. With a bit of effort, he put on a smile.

"That's right! Do you wear my clothes?" Pistachio asked, already knowing the answer. She laughed.

"Oh no. I would never wear your clothes. I just sell them," she said with a crooked smile. Pistachio's face fell and his eyebrows rose. That was not what he'd been expecting. At all. He tried his best not to be offended.

A moment later, the mare's eyes widened and her hoof flew up to cover her mouth.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I'm just a little bit all over the place. I work at Rarity For You in Manehattan, and we sell your designs all the time. The customers are always like 'Oh my gosh, Pistachio is so amazing,' and it's actually really annoying, but anyway it's not that I don't think your designs are great. I would just never wear them myself. Well actually, I guess that's not entirely true. My dad made me wear one of them once, and it definitely wasn't the worst thing he's made me wear, but it just…" She paused, trying to come up with the right word. Pistachio kind of wanted to walk away. Seriously, he didn't need this girl ranting about how much she hated his designs when he was already depressed! "... didn't make me feel special," she finished, her energetic tone and expression fading.

All of the frustration drained from Pistachio. He looked down at himself in that stupid suit, and he could totally understand how she felt. He had a realization; The way he felt in those mediocre pinstripes was the same way she felt wearing his designs. How could that be? How could he have contributed to making ponies feel like they didn't belong without even meaning to? The mare snorted, which made Pistachio cringe a bit.

"I'm sorry. I think I'm just gonna leave now. Sorry again! Nice meeting you!" she said, taking a step away. Pistachio bit his lip, debating. He knew it probably wouldn't help, but he couldn't resist.

"Does the dress you're wearing now make you feel special?" he asked, hoping for a yes and a no at the same time. If it was a yes, that would be unfortunate for her, seeing as it so obviously wasn’t right for her. If it was a no, he knew he'd feel the need to do something about it. The mare smiled sadly.

"Not really," she said honestly. Pistachio sighed.

"When were you going to wear it?" he asked wearily.

"At the Grand Galloping Gala tomorrow.” Darn it! Couldn't it have been next month or something?

"Would you want-" He stopped, deciding to ask a different question first. "What exactly is it that you haven't liked about my designs?" he asked. She turned back to face him, and she clearly had to think for a moment.

"Well, working at Rarity For You, I see a lot of the same things; sexy dresses and elegant dresses," she started. Pistachio couldn't help but laugh a bit. The mare had used an extra low voice on the word 'sexy', and a botched accent on the word 'elegant'. "It's not that some of them aren't gorgeous. In fact, I've noticed that your designs are even more gorgeous than some of the other gorgeous ones. It's just that… They're gorgeous in the same kind of way as all of the others. It's like I'm looking at a more gorgeous version of the exact same dress that I can get anywhere else. Like, I'm not looking for something higher on the gorgeous-meter. I'm looking for something that's a different kind of gorgeous. Y'know?" Pistachio tried to look past the mare’s overuse of the word ‘gorgeous’ for long enough to consider her point, but it was admittedly difficult.

“Exactly what ‘kinds’ of gorgeous do you like?” he asked. She thought for a moment.

“Well I love things that are super colorful, fluffy, poufy, sometimes feathery, fun, comfortable… Stuff that most ponies would think is weird I guess.” Some of those sounded a bit unusual, but not necessarily bad. He thought about, trying to figure out if he would be able to make something like that in time for the gala. He could probably get the actual design done in time, but sewing it too? He would probably need more time.

“Oh, and I love crochet. I know it’s not involved in fashion very often, but when it is, I usually love it.” Pistachio did his best not to cringe. Not just because a respectable gown using crochet sounded, um, interesting, but also because he had no idea how to crochet. He knew most ponies said it was easier than sewing, but it just had never clicked for him.

“In fact, I actually got my cutiemark in crochet!” she added enthusiastically. Wait. If she had gotten her cutie mark in it, that must have meant that she was at least relatively good at it. What if…

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked. She gave another crooked grin, showcasing her surprisingly straight teeth.

“Plaid Stripes,” she responded. He smirked. Of course it was. With his name being ‘Pistachio’, he always found it amusing when ponies’ names actually succeeded in fitting their personalities.

“Well Plaid, I’d hate for you to go to the Grand Galloping Gala in something you don’t like. I’m not sure if I could make you something in time, but maybe I could design you something involving crochet that you’d be able to make yourself,” he suggested. Plaid’s eyes lit up.

“Really?” she asked. A moment later, she started to look doubtful. “I’m not sure if you’d be able to design something like that specifically for me. Maybe if you knew me a little better, but…” Pistachio bit his lip, as he usually did when considering something.

“Are you staying at the Biltmare? Perhaps you could come over to my suite and help me with the designing?” he asked. She looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Um, wouldn’t your date mind?” she asked. Oh. He rethought his last sentence, seeing how it could have been wrongly perceived. Why did everypony have to put romance into everything? Couldn’t ponies just leave it alone? He was just starting to forget about his mother’s dating nonsense! He tried to put himself together. This wasn’t about him; it was about helping somepony who clearly needed some fashion help.

“That’s not at all how I meant it. I don’t actually have a date yet, but I’ll probably be getting one,” he said vaguely. She nodded, suddenly looking about as dejected as he felt.

“Yeah, same here. My dad’s all ‘You must get a date for the gala or I’ll get one for you,’ and I uh… Well, let’s just say I’m not interested in the kind of dates that he has in mind,” she said. Pistachio looked at her, raising his brows a bit and nodding his head slowly.

“Oh, that makes sense,” he said. She narrowed her eyes.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean? Are you assuming that I’m gay because you don’t like my taste in clothes?” she asked, seeming offended. How had Pistachio not realized how many ponies were still homophobic? Seriously, he’d thought that acceptance had happened like, last decade, but apparently his parents weren’t the only ones who were offended at even the implication of anything ‘gay’. Even though he really didn’t know Plaid, he suddenly wondered if she would think of him differently if she knew that he was ‘one of those ponies’.

Plaid sighed, her frustration seeming to die down.

“Sorry. I mean, you wouldn’t exactly be wrong,” she said quietly. “I’m just not a fan of the stereotype.” Pistachio pursed his lips.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I wish ponies would pay more attention to stereotypes. I mean, I know they don’t hold true for everypony, but is it so terrible to take a hint once in a while?” She squinted up at him.

“Are you…” she asked, making a strange gesture with her hoof. He nodded.

“So who are you thinking you’ll invite for your date?” she asked him.

“I’m not sure. I mean, you don’t exactly bump into girls looking to go on a romance-free date on a regular basis,” he said. She snorted again.

“I get that.”

Plaid stood there with this stallion that she’d known for only a few minutes, and felt more comfortable having a normal conversation than she ever had with her father. How messed up was that? Seriously, shouldn’t her father have been the most loving and accepting figure in her life? Plaid heard footsteps coming from the stallion’s section, looking up to see her dad walking toward her. Speak of the devil.

“Plaid! What’s taking you so long?” he asked, coming up beside her. He noticed Pistachio, looking him up and down. “Who are you?” he asked aggressively. His tone caught the attention of Pistachio’s mom, whom Plaid recognized from the background of several of Pistachio’s news interviews. She had been looking through dresses on the opposite side of the store. She started to make her way towards them

“Pistachio,” he responded. Plaid’s dad looked up, and Plaid could tell that he was trying to remember where he recognized him from. Finally, he seemed to figure it out.

“The designer?” he asked with raised brows. Just then, Pistachio’s mom arrived to stand beside Plaid’s dad, and she nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Mhmm! My baby boy has grown up to be one of the most successful stallions his age in Equestria, and I couldn’t be more proud,” she said. A smirk came to Plaid’s father’s face, and he actually looked truly impressed with her for once.

“I must say sweetie, you made good choice,” he said, emphasizing his accent as he usually did with new ponies. If Plaid had to guess, she’d say he did it to inspire intimidation, but she didn’t know for sure. Plaid didn’t really catch his meaning. Pistachio’s mom gasped.

“Is this the lucky mare that you’ve invited to the gala?” she asked, looking incredibly hopeful. Plaid laughed boisterously, thinking about the conversation they’d just had, and what a hilarious prospect that would be.

“As fun as that would be–” Plaid stopped mid sentence at a peculiar sound coming from Pistachio. It was a strangled kind of grunting sound. She looked at him to see him widening his eyes and nodding his head towards their parents. “I uh–” She tried to continue her sentence, but she was too busy squinting at Pistachio with her mouth slightly agape, trying to figure out what he was trying to communicate. Or if he was having a seizure. She raised a single eyebrow, trying to convey that she had no clue what he was trying to say. He raised his hoof a few inches off the floor, pointing it at Plaid and then at himself. Then he nodded. It took her another second or so to figure out what he was implying, but when she did, she gasped loudly, a smile coming to her face. Her father cleared his throat, and she looked to see her dad glaring at her expectantly and Pistachio’s mom gazing at the two of them confusedly.

“As fun as that would be, that’s exactly what is happening. Pistachio is my date. We’re going to the Grand Galloping Gala together. As dates,” Plaid said, trying to be convincing. Plaid’s dad looked slightly suspicious, but Pistachio’s mom looked only happy. She walked up and gave Plaid a hug.

“It’s so good to meet you! You’re practically part of the family already,” she said. Pistachio laughed awkwardly, looking embarrassed.

“It’s just one night, Mom. It’s not that big of a deal.” Pistachio’s mom tried to step away, but ended up tripping on the extra fabric on Plaid’s dress.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Clumsy me,” she said, standing back up properly. Plaid cringed, looking to her dad.

“Dad, about the dress. As pretty as it is, Pistachio - my date - offered to make me a custom dress for the gala. He invited me over to his suite tonight to help,” Plaid said. She phrased it as a statement, but her dad could clearly tell that it was more of a question. He made a thinking face, but Plaid knew him well enough to know that he was faking it.

“You know how important you are to me. I suppose if you want Pistachio to design you a custom dress, that could work. Not the most famous designer, but it would do,” he said, clearly trying to make it seem as if he might’ve gone for something better. Plaid looked at Pistachio, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Pistachio smirked back at her.

Maybe the Grand Galloping Gala wouldn’t be so bad afterall…

Author's Note

Hi again! Thanks so much for reading this chapter, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Make sure to tune in for future chapters if you're enjoying the story! See you next time.