Chapters “Oh my gosh! There’s no way! It can’t be! Or can it…?” Pistachio mumbled. Ever since Rarity--a fashion icon as well as his greatest idol--showed up at his family’s farm three years ago, he’d decided that he was ready to start his career as a fashion designer.
Rarity had made him her special guest at Manehatten’s Fashion Week, and ever since then, his career in couture had taken off. He now had his own fashion line sold exclusively at Rarity’s boutiques. It still amazed him that there were yaks in Yakyakistan wearing his designs right now! Well, a version of his designs modified to fit them, but still basically his designs!
Everything was looking up for him, but there was still one thing that could make everything even better; going to The Grand Galloping Gala. It was the most exclusive event of the year! Only the most famous ponies in Equestria were invited! Well, along with their dates of course. If he were to actually go, not only would his business skyrocket, but he was sure he’d have the best night ever!
But, despite briefly fantasizing about going to the gala as Hoity Toity’s date back when he was just figuring out his sexuality, he’d never entertained any ideas that he would ever be invited. Well, not until now at least.
He had gotten a lot more popular since the last gala, so he thought that he might actually have a miniscule chance at getting in. And now, he’d just received a letter from Princess Twilight herself! So, either he was invited, or he was in some pretty serious trouble.
“Oh Pistachio! Stop worrying and just open the envelope already!” his mom said, his dad right next to her bobbing his head up and down encouragingly.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so nervous I’m gonna puke!” Pistachio said. Then, he opened the envelope and read the letter.
Dear Pistachio,
My good friend and advisor, Rarity, has told me great things about you. After doing some research on you and your career, I’m delighted to say that you are cordially invited to The Grand Galloping Gala.
There should be four tickets in the envelope that held this invitation. One for you, one for each of your parents, and one for a companion of your choice. You may bring almost anypony, although due to past experience, I must ask you to please make sure that your companion is a coherent, living creature. Strange beings such as giant lumps of green slime that eat shiny objects are prohibited.
The Grand Galloping Gala will be held at The Canterlot Castle. Since you do not have access to any unicorns with the ability to teleport, your train tickets and hotel reservations will be taken care of by a third party. You are expected at The Biltmare Hotel by noon on the day before the gala is scheduled to take place.
I look forward to seeing you there,
Her Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle
“I’m invited! Somepony pinch me! This is a dream come true!” Pistachio said after reading the invitation. Sure enough, when he looked into the envelope, four golden tickets sat inside.
He couldn't believe that this was actually happening to him! Things like this didn't usually happen to noponies from Nowhere Equestria, such as himself, but it actually was! He was hoping he'd be able to introduce his designs to some of the influential ponies there, so he had to make the best impression possible. That meant having the perfect suit, accessories, hair, and… Oh… And the perfect date. How would he manage that ? With all of the discrimination against gay ponies, there were bound to be at least a few ponies that wouldn't approve of any stallion he brought simply because they were a stallion.
Then again, did he even want to impress all the ponies that would judge him just for being gay? No, he didn't. They were pretty much all terrible ponies anyway. He still wasn't sure who he would invite though… Sweet Acorn Orchards was a difficult place to find ponies in the gay community.
"Who should I invite as my date?" Pistachio wondered aloud.
"You could invite one of our neighbor's sweet daughters! They’re very nice girls!" his mother suggested. Pistachio laughed.
"As if I'd date a mare," he said with an amused grin. His parents, who were almost always smiling, frowned deeply.
"What do you mean, son?" his father asked. Now Pistachio was very confused. They couldn't have forgotten , could they?
"You remember our conversation from when I was eleven, right?" he asked nervously. This was stupid. Obviously his parents knew he was gay. He'd told them five years ago, when he was eleven.
"Of course we do, honey!" his mother responded.
Phew , Pistachio thought. He thought back to his coming out talk. He'd been so nervous back then.
"M...mom? Dad? I… I have to tell you something," said eleven year old Pistachio.
"What is it, son?" his father asked. Pistachio took a deep breath, preparing himself to drop the bomb.
"I think you should know that I'm… Different from other boys around here. I want to be a fashion designer when I grow up. I didn’t think I could do it if I told anyone, but if Fashion Plate and Hoity Toity could become famous, then maybe I can too. Mom. Dad. I… I'm-"
"Oh honey!" his mom interrupted before he could say ‘gay’. "We've always known that you're a little different, and yes, it's a bit unconventional, but we love you just the same! We couldn't care less about things like that. We just hope you'll be able to live your dream without ponies believing things about you that aren't true," his mom said. His dad nodded.
Pistachio teared up. Because of his parents' religion, he'd been terrified that his parents wouldn’t accept him. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted now that he knew that they still loved him regardless. He ran over and hugged them.
“Thank you,” he said.
“So what’s wrong with me saying that I wouldn’t date a mare?” present Pistachio asked his parents confusedly. His father gave him a stern look.
“We know you’ve always been worried about ponies thinking that you’re gay because so many other fasion designers that are stallions are, but by joking about it, you’re encouraging all of those ponies to believe that. Homosexuality is not something to joke about, son,” his father said.
No way. No way ! This could not be happening to him. He’d always been so thankful that coming out had been so easy for him, and now… Now…
“So wait… You both think I’m straight?” he asked, shocked. His mom gave him a loving smile that did nothing to help Pistachio’s mental panic attack.
“Of course, honey! It doesn’t matter how many of those articles say that you’re gay. We know you’re not. We would never think you would choose that path,” said his mother.
“It’s not a choice !” Pistachio yelled. His parents looked at him pityingly.
“Don’t let them get to you like that, son!” his father said.
“Just because so many ponies believe that you’re one of them doesn’t mean that you have to act like you are,” his mom added. Pistachio was furious.
“But I-” He cut himself off mid-sentence. A horrible thought occurred to him. He hadn’t actually come out to his parents. With them, he was still in the closet. Was it just them, or were there others that didn’t know too? Suddenly, he felt like that terrified eleven-year-old all over again. But now he had even more reason to be scared. He’d never really heard his parents talk about homosexuality before, and now he basically knew that they frowned upon it. Could he really still come out to them?
“What if, theoretically, I was gay? Would you still love me?” Pistachio asked, freaking out on the inside and attempting to hide it on the outside. His mom giggled.
"Oh Pistachio! We know you make mistakes sometimes, but you would never do something like that! You’re far too good to go there.” That might be one of the most hurtful things Pistachio had ever heard. He’d heard ponies say those kinds of things before, but coming from his own mother, it was painful. Especially since before this point, he’d thought his parents were supportive of it.
“But I just-”
“Enough, son! Let’s speak of other things,” his father said, interrupting him.
Pistachio wanted to object, but what would he even say? He looked down at the floor, unable to think of anything to talk about. In truth, he was holding back tears.
“What were we talking about?” his mother wondered aloud. “Oh! You’re date! Any ideas on who you’ll bring, Pistachio?”
Uh oh.
“You did what ?” Plaid Stripes asked. She’d just gotten off of work from her day job at Rarity For You, and her father had been right outside the shop, waiting for her with an envelope. Now, they were attempting a conversation as they walked home
“Haven’t you always wanted to go to The Grand Galloping Gala?” her father asked. Plaid Stripes rolled her eyes.
“Yes, but I want to be invited because I’m wanted there, not because my dad told Rarity that if she didn’t get us invited, you’d kick her out of her boutique!” Plaid yelled. Now it was her dad’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Why does it matter how you get in if you get in?” he asked. It was just like him to say something like that. She loved her father, but he was willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted, and Plaid was often left doing something she didn’t want to do as a result.
“Because I want to earn it myself!” Plaid exclaimed.
“Will you please just read it? I need to make sure that it says you’re invited,” her father said.
"Fine," Plaid responded unhappily.
The invitation had a bunch of stuff about being delighted to invite her, something about only coherent creatures being allowed at the gala, and information on what hotel they’d be staying at. The note-worthy part of the invitation was a paragraph at the bottom, written in a sloppier writing style than the rest.
P.S. These invitations are prewritten. You're actually invited purely because Rarity started crying when I told her I wouldn't invite somepony just because their dad threatened her. So, if you do anything uncalled for, you will be kicked out, and not invited back, regardless of any juvenile threats that your father makes.
Plaid was not at all surprised at the note that the invitation had ended on, which was very sad. She supposed that she was just used to her father manipulating every situation in order to get what he wanted. Come to think of it, she did need to talk to her dad about something that she was sure would come up.
“It says I’m invited…” she said as her father smirked. “I’ll go, but please don’t make me design my own clothes! Or accessories! I’ve felt like an idiot wearing all the things I’ve designed. I feel much more beautiful in other ponies’ designs,” Plaid said.
“Perhaps your designs haven’t been the most… Mainstream, but at least it prevents ponies from seeing how openly gay you are. I’d say you could try some other feminine profession, but your hand-sewn plaid heart as a cutie mark could mean few other things,” her father said shamelessly.
“First of all, my special talent is knitting ! I may be gay, but it’s not like knitting is considered masculine! Isn’t knitting enough, without having to be a fashion designer? And second, I don’t care if ponies know I’m a lesbian, Dad. I’m not ashamed of it. It’s just a part of who I am,” Plaid said. Her father stopped in his tracks, his face turning a bit red from anger.
“Well maybe you should be ashamed! Gays and lesbians don’t deserve the equality they get in Equestria! Your mother was a lesbian, and look how that turned out for us!” her father yelled. She left you to find a new life where she could be her true self. It’s not her fault she didn’t love you that way. Mom may not be a good pony, but she doesn’t represent all gays and lesbians, Plaid thought. She thought things like that all the time, but she never actually said them. She doubted it would make a difference with her father anyway, so what was the point?
“Whatever Dad… Just please don’t make me design my own dress like you did for that last party I went to. I looked horrible,” Plaid pleaded. Her father looked thoughtful.
“Hmm. Fine, but I’ll pick out your dress,” he said. Plaid sighed. She supposed that was better, but she’d much rather pick out her own. She’d bet he wouldn’t let her wear her spoon earrings either…
She’d found her favorite spoon earrings at a garage sale a few years prior, and she wore them all the time. They even inspired her ‘spoon clothes’ idea, although that had of course been terrible. Probably because she didn’t want to create new, trendy styles. Her father had seen an opportunity for her at Rarity For You, and told her that she had to take it. Her dad had told her to come up with ideas for Rarity by the end of the day, and spoon clothes and glow in the dark teeth *Plaid cringed at the memory* were the best she could come up with. Plaid just felt sorry for Rarity since she was forced into it too.
Hopefully Rarity didn’t dislike Plaid because of it. Actually, Plaid didn’t think Rarity actively dis liked her, but she didn’t think she actively liked her either. Honestly, Plaid figured Rarity probably thought of her as some psycho teenager, because when they’d first met, Plaid sort of had a bit of a crush on her, and let’s just say that when Plaid was around a crush, she could get pretty flustered and weird.
“Of course, the dress is not the only issue. We also have your date to think about,” her father said.
Sometimes, Plaid felt like she’d do anything to go back to being that naive twelve-year-old girl, nervous about coming out to her father, but hopeful that just maybe he’d accept her. Now, she had no hope at all. Her father hadn’t accepted her then, and he didn’t accept her now. Why would that ever change? Maybe it would’ve even been easier if she hadn’t come out to him at all. Maybe that would’ve allowed her to be more like her natural self. Yes, she would have had to hide her sexuality, but at least her father wouldn’t have been looking for every possible thing about her that ‘isn't femminine enough’. Maybe he would’ve accepted her as just a regular mare who didn’t want to be a trendy fashionista if he hadn’t known she was a lesbian. She supposed that she would never know if that was true though.
“I have a guy in Canterlot who owes me money. His son is around your age. If you can’t find a stallion to go with you before the gala, I’ll just have him go with you,” her father continued.
Uh oh.
Author's Note
Hi guys! I hope you liked this first chapter, and if you did, make sure to leave a like, comment, and stay tuned for the next chapter!
Also, remember to check out the Pride and Positivity group. (Linked in this story's description) For each story they get, $40 is donated to charity, so if you can, donate and/or submit a story.
P.S. This story will have a happy ending.
About two weeks later…
Pistachio walked into the famous Biltmare hotel in Canterlot with his parents close behind him. He’d stayed there a few times before when he’d gone to other events in Canterlot, but it’s breathtaking grandeur continued to leave him speechless each time.
The floors were made of warm redwood, with a few places that had ultra-soft black carpeting or white marble tiles. The ceiling was vaulted in a huge semi-circle that made Pistachio feel as if he were in the center of a giant, hollow marble. A beautiful golden chandelier showered anypony that walked in with blinding light. It had hanging candles that reflected the shimmer of hundreds of diamonds that were embedded in it’s design. And this was only the lobby ! He knew from experience that the Biltmare’s suits were some of the most comfortable and well-furnished in Equestria.
Pistachio arrived at the front desk.
“Name and reservation time?” the mare at the front desk asked in a bored, monotone voice.
“Pistachio. I’m here for the Grand Galloping Gala,” he said. Normally, he would’ve been very excited to tell somepony that he was invited to the gala, but after two long weeks of his parents pestering him about what mare he was bringing as a date, The Grand Galloping Gala was sounding less and less appealing.
The front desk mare opened a drawer, pulled out a file labeled ‘P’, and searched through it. A moment later, she found what she was looking for. She immediately brightened.
“Of course! You’ll be staying in one of our executive suits,” she said. Wow. He’d never stayed at an executive suit. Perhaps everypony who’d been invited would get one? Did they have that many? He certainly didn’t know.
“What about my parents?” Pistachio asked. The mare looked confused.
“They’re staying as well?” she asked in surprise. It was quite common for him to hear questions like that. Even though he was sixteen, since he had his own business, most ponies assumed that he would be living by himself. Certainly nopony expected his parents to travel everywhere with him as if he were a foal, but they did. It hadn’t really bothered him before. He’d never had a problem with his parents going places with him because he knew that it made them happy. He’d always just assumed that if he ever really wanted them to let him do things by himself, they’d respect his wishes, but lately, Pistachio had started to wonder if that was true or not.
Pistachio’s parents looked comically offended at the mare’s question.
“We would never leave our baby alone in a strange city like this! Especially in an area with such a high crime rate,” his mother said, confirming his thoughts. The mare at the desk narrowed her eyes a bit.
“But this area has some of the lowest crime rates in a hundred mile radius. The average in Equestria is much higher,” the mare said. Her tone implied a mixture of superiority and confusion. His parents raised their chins.
“All the more reason to always stick with him,” his dad said. His mother nodded. Pistachio flushed with embarrassment. The mare looked from him to his parents, then back and forth again, a knowing and slightly annoyed look in her eye. Finally her eyes settled on Pistachio.
“Alright then,” she started, ending the previous subject. “Pistachio, your parents’ room will be right down the hall from yours. By the way, Rarity sends her personal compliments, and if you need anything at all during your stay here, just call the lobby, and I’ll personally see that you get what you need,” she said.
He didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but it was always so awkward when ponies talked to him like that. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t done anything to deserve that kind of treatment. This mare didn’t even know him. He’d much rather her have treated him like she would have treated anypony else.
“Thank you,” he said politely. The mare gave him his room key, and he and his parents walked down a hall to their left towards the elevator. After the first few steps, his mother started ranting about the front desk mare. Pistachio mentally prayed that nopony could hear her...
“Ponies these days just have no idea what good parenting is!” Plaid Stripes heard somepony say to her left. She’d just walked into the Biltmare for her first time, and that was the first thing she heard. Not the greatest first impression. She didn’t know the context, but she certainly agreed with whoever had said that. Then she realized something. She recognized that voice from somewhere. A middle-aged mare with a slightly rustic accent. Where had she heard it before? She walked over towards the hallway to see who it was, but by then, the mare had already gotten into an elevator, and was out of sight.
She’d walked over by instinct, but she still hadn’t really looked around yet. Then she heard a small jingling sound from above, and looked up to see the most beautiful and ornate chandelier she’d ever seen. It was lit with dozens of candles, and decorated with hundreds of diamonds. It wasn’t something she’d want for herself. She wasn’t really into things that were so gaudy, but just the sight of it reminded her of where she was. She supposed that it hadn’t really sunk in yet. She’d been so focused on the fact that she was invited under false pretenses, that she’d somehow brushed off the fact that she was invited . This huge, grand, gorgeous hotel was for her to stay at, and even if her dad was going with her to the gala, at least she was still getting to go. Seeing the amazing golden ceiling with shining silver accents reminded her that just like with it’s design, her own situation also had a silver lining.
“Plaid! Stop gawking! It makes you look poor,” her father whisper-yelled at her, deflating her good mood. She rejoined her father, and together they walked up to the front desk.
“Name and reservation time?” asked the bored mare who was working. Plaid hesitated a bit.
“Um, I’m Plaid Stripes, and I’m pretty sure my reservation time is supposed to be at noon, but I’m here for The Grand Galloping Gala, so-”
“Darn it!” the mare said, interrupting her. Plaid was a bit taken aback. “I just put that folder away!” she continued, opening a drawer and taking out a folder with the letter, ‘P’ on it. The mare looked through it, and eventually found Plaid’s name. She read a bit further, then put the folder down on the desk and glared at Plaid and her father.
“You’ll be staying in our smallest suite. Unfortunately, all of our chefs, maids, and delivery specialists are out of town at the moment, so we won’t be able to provide most of our usual services,” the mare said without a hint of remorse. Trying to be inconspicuous so that her father wouldn’t notice, Plaid leaned over a bit to take a peek at the folder laying on the desk. She wasn’t the best at reading upside down, but she was pretty sure she read it correctly.
Plaid Stripes
Appearance: Orange coat, frizzy purple mane, most likely wearing spoon earrings. Notes: Don’t waste too much effort on her or anypony that accompanies her. She received her invitation through blackmail. And don’t worry about her diminishing your fine reputation if she leaves a negative review. She doesn’t have much of a social standing.
Well that was depressing… And true. Luckily, her father didn’t think to look at the folder. Nor did he notice when she did. He stared down the desk mare intimidatingly.
“If my daughter doesn’t get the right treatment, I will not be happy ,” he said menacingly. The mare merely blinked at him unapologetically.
“Apologies. Here is your room key,” she said, giving Plaid the key. And then they were off.
“Now I’m not trying to be rude, but why are you buying your clothes for the gala instead of making ‘em yourself? Haven’t you always wanted to do that?” Pistachio’s mother asked as she and Pistachio walked into Canterlot Carousel after settling in at the Biltmare.
“Well, seeing as it’s already two in the afternoon, and the gala starts at five tomorrow, I don’t really have the time,” he said. His mother glanced at him worriedly. She knew him well enough to know that he never turned a project down for a lack of time. He’d stayed up whole nights finishing things, and been perfectly energetic in the morning. He always told everypony that completing a design was just as energizing as sleeping. “Plus, the couture that’s already out at Canterlot Carousel will be recognized, and therefore will make a bigger statement. And I get a discount for being one of their designers, and discounts are totally on fleek right now,” he added. His mother nodded, accepting this explanation far better than the previous one.
Honestly though, discounts weren’t the reason at all. Neither were deadlines or recognition. He created designs out of inspiration. His designs were how Pistachio expressed himself, and at the moment, he just wasn’t feeling that great about self-expression. He could probably come up with something , but it would be extremely mediocre in comparison to his usual work, and he couldn’t afford to look mediocre at the Grand Galloping Gala.
Now that they were in the boutique, Pistachio scanned through the stallion section, which consisted of two small racks of suits. One of the racks was made entirely of his own designs, which were out of the question, seeing as he’d already worn them all at public events in the past. The stallion section seemed like a single drop of water in the chalice of mare’s clothes that was Canterlot Carousel. Well, at least it made the decision easier, he supposed.
As he walked into the stallion dressing room and tried the three suits he’d picked, he realized that he’d most definitely been wrong. It didn’t make it easier at all. All three of them were painfully boring.
Come on, he thought. It’s really not hard to make some decent clothes for stallions!
He found his favorite of the three. It was black with greenish blue pinstripes. Not exactly original, but at least it wasn’t monotone . He cringed internally at the word.
He looked at himself from all angles in the dressing room mirror, making absolute sure that there were no rips or stains, muttering to himself every time he saw a missed design opportunity.
Plaid stood in the middle of Canterlot Carousel. Her father had told her that she could look for a dress she liked, but he would have to approve it before he would let her wear it. That was much better than having to wear whatever ridiculous dress he picked out for her, so she should’ve been looking through the dozens of racks eagerly. But, she wasn’t.
Standing between two long racks of insanely expensive garments was more overwhelming than she would’ve thought. She had no idea where to start! Everything was so… Uptight. You’d think that in a huge boutique full of unique dresses, there would be at least one that was her style, but there definitely wasn’t. Though the design of each dress varied, the style was all the same. She didn’t want something that was elegant and understated or something rose red and sexy, or something that was unique like she would usually like, but was so impractical that she wouldn’t even be able to walk in it!
Despite this, she grabbed some of the dresses, picking the ones that she found more bearable. After all, anything she picked out herself would be better than something that her father forced on her. A few minutes later, her father found her. He immediately noticed the four or five dresses hanging over Plaid’s back.
“I see you found some things you like. Mind letting me take a closer look?” her father asked. He phrased it as if it were a question, but Plaid knew that he would have insisted if she’d refused. She held up the first one. He raised an eyebrow at the pink and blue polka-dotted dress.
“Too busy,” he complained. Plaid hung it up on a nearby rack before showing him the next one. He widened his eyes in horror at the monotone greenish yellow dress.
“Utterly nauseating,” he said. Plaid sighed, knowing that he would probably make an excuse for all of her choices. He did. After he was finished, he looked at her expectantly. Plaid rolled her eyes.
“So, what’s your suggestion?” she asked with fake curiosity. He smiled.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. He then showed Plaid the dress he’d been carrying over his back.
“Oh God,” Plaid muttered softly after getting a good look at it.
“So what do you think?” her father asked. What did she think? Ha! She doubted he actually wanted to know what she thought about the ridiculous thing.
The dress was floor length and sleeveless, and it had a slit along one of the back legs that was very… Suggestive. Although the outside of the dress was black, the inside of it was blood red, which only made the slit more obvious. And to top it all off, it was made of a heavy velvet material that looked like it would leave her drenched in sweat before the first dance was over.
“It’s definitely something,” Plaid responded vaguely. Her father gave her a satisfied smile.
“Why don’t you go try it on? It may seem perfect, but before we buy it, we should make sure it works with your… Unusual coloring.” Unusual coloring? Seriously? It was no secret that her father hated Plaid’s clashing color scheme of purple and orange with fuchsia eyes. In Plaid’s opinion, he shouldn’t have had a kid with a pink and orange mare if he was so worried about clashing .
“Okay, Dad,” she said. She started towards the dressing room on the opposite side of the store. She was so lost in thought that she almost walked into the stallion’s dressing room by mistake. Although, it would’ve been an understandable mistake. The dressing rooms for mares and stallions were right next to each other, and for some strange reason, the only indicator of which was which was a tiny symbol of a pony wearing a dress on the mare’s, and a tiny pony wearing a suit on the stallions. Plaid felt like the symbols were a bit dated, but she didn’t give it much thought.
She could hear muffled complaining from behind the door to the stallion’s room. Something about ‘it’s not that hard’, or something like that. A few feet away from the dressing room doors was a middle aged pony. Plaid didn’t want to stereotype, but she looked almost like a farmer. She seemed a little out of place in this high-society fashion boutique. But then again, so did Plaid. The strange thing was that Plaid recognized the mare from somewhere. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she was sure she’d seen her somewhere.
The middle aged mare was distracted by a dress on a nearby rack, and walked away to look at it. Plaid’s dad hadn’t followed her to the dressing rooms, so Plaid was alone outside them. She took a moment to enjoy looking at the poofy boa around her neck before she inevitably walked into the dressing room, closed the door, and tried on the black and red dress. Even as she changed clothes though, she didn’t take off her spoon earrings. She knew they didn’t match, but she couldn’t have cared less. Perhaps she’d take them off at the gala, but for now, she would wear them as much as she liked.
Author's Note
Hi guys! Thanks for coming back for the second chapter!
Wow! It took me a while to get this chapter finished! I hit a little bit of writer's block halfway through, and wrote this oneshot to get over it. It's a comedy that touches on the difference between not believing in people's religion vs outright disrespecting them.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, be sure to leave a thumbs up, comment with your thoughts, and stay tuned for future chapters!
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.
