Fabulosity in Fact

You idiot.

Of all the shops in all of Ponyville, of all the towns in all of Equestria, you just had to walk into the only place where you’d be recognised, and talk to the one pony who‘d recognise you in a heartbeat. Suddenly, losing a third of your luggage on the train doesn’t seem so unlucky by comparison.

Within minutes, you’re back in your hotel room, readying for departure. If that boutique girl knows about you, it’s only a matter of time before she tells her friends, and they tell their friends, and before you know it, the whole town would be in hysterics. Small towns are just like that! You have to leave now.

Just as you open the hotel room door to leave, you bump straight into-

“Argh! Miss Rarity!”

The beautiful mare stands firmly in the doorway, blocking your exit. Her eyes seem pleading, betrayed, without her red glasses, which she had chosen to leave behind. Maybe it’s because you’re a crime against honest fashion.

There’s nowhere left to run, aside from jumping out of the window. Sadly, you’re not a pegasus. Instead, you sigh, and resign yourself to your fate.

“Well?” you say weakly, with a hint of impatience, “Let me have it.”

Rarity blinks inquiringly, “Let you have what?”

Oh no, you’re going to have to say it out loud, aren’t you?

“Let me have it!” you repeat clearly, “You read that article on me, didn’t you? Box my ears, tell me how much of a greedy, rich monster I am! Look at me! I’m famous for faking fashion magazines with magically edited photos, I nearly caused a school filly to starve herself to death as a result - and who knows how many other young minds I’ve corrupted that way - and most of all, I’m rich because of it all! I gave fashion a bad name! I’m evil! At least the Mare in the Moon didn‘t try to turn a profit from eternal night, geez!”

When she doesn’t respond immediately to your outburst, you continue, “You’ve been reading my columns, haven’t you, Miss Rarity? I saw several issues in your boutique. How does it feel to know that most of it teaches other ponies to lie about their appearance? To paint their face sexy colours and call it ‘makeup’, all the while following the same old styles like sheep - no offence to sheep - and calling it ’trendy’? I must have ruined everything for you. You designers, the few ponies who actually try when it comes to fashion. So let me have it. Hoof me in the face or something, Celestia knows I deserve it. Or just do… whatever it is that you planned to do when you recognised me back there.”

The silence that follows your rant is… painfully tense. Rarity’s face doesn’t show anger, or even mild annoyance. It’s as if she’s merely contemplating your words. Finally, she takes a deep sigh.

“I didn’t plan to hoof you in the face, dear,” she says calmly, “I planned to help you.”

“What? And what could you possibly do to help me?”

“When I was reading the news article this morning,” she explains, “the one about your magazine and the filly, I couldn’t help but notice how some of the words they used seemed… insulting rather than neutral. I’m quite familiar with how the world of fashion works, it may surprise you to know. You think I wouldn’t recognise a case of Tall Poppy Syndrome when I see one?”

You knew what she meant, since the term is quite popular in the fashion world. But you don’t think you’d be legible for it.

“Tall Poppy Syndrome is when the newspapers twist the words and smear the reputation of a nice, popular pony for the sake of newspaper sales.” you retort, “I’m pretty sure I’m not a nice pony. Making the headlines for faking photographs and corrupting young minds isn’t exactly something you need to twist the words of to know it’s bad.”

“But you didn’t know you were doing bad at the time, did you?” she fires back, “You were just trying to make your magazines look nicer. Like giving a house a fresh coat of paint, or planting flowers in a garden. You didn’t want to hurt anypony.”

“I didn’t want to, but I did,” you sigh, “And the manure’s hit the fan now. Can you do me a favour, Miss Rarity?”

“Just… Rarity will do.”

“Okay, Rarity. If you really want to help that much, please don’t tell anypony I’m here in Ponyville, okay? The last thing I want is to draw more attention to myself.”

“And in return, you’ll let me help you?” she asks hopefully.

“If you really think you can, I’m not stopping you.”

For a moment, you could almost see a glimmer of glee when Rarity’s face lights up at the prospect of helping a celebrity. A split second later, she snaps herself back into her usual sophisticated manner.

“Thank you kindly for reconsidering,” she says with a curt nod, “I’ve got an arrangement with a friend at the local spa this afternoon, if you’d like to meet us there, we can discuss matters regarding your predicament. See you there.”

With a smirk and a wink, she turns to leave your hotel room, as courteous as can be. As soon as she walks out of the building, however, you look out of your window to find her skipping down the street with enthusiasm.

You just hope you haven’t made a stupid mistake in staying here.