One-Hundred Tiny Tailcoats
Rarity was a generous pony, and perhaps – just perhaps – not a very wise one.
The harvest festival was in full swing, with ponies celebrating the close of another autumn with pumpkins, scarecrows, and turkey guests of honor. Yet one pony among their number sat quietly distressed and distracted.
Admittedly this wasn’t an unusual state for Fluttershy, but Rarity was equal parts kind and nosy. She puttered over to her pegasus friend, smiled in a disarming fashion, and began the inevitable. Yes, I am fine. Nice weather, it’s a bit cold and getting colder. What ever could be the matter (and don’t say ‘nothing,’ darling, you can’t fool Rarity)?
One attempted-distraction and two evasive answers later, Fluttershy gave in.
“It started two months ago,” she mumbled into her cider. “The Royal Hearth’s Warming Committee asked to have my bird chorus perform for the palace celebrations next month.”
A sip. “They, um, asked me in person and seemed very excited so I couldn’t say no. The money and recognition will be good for the sanctuary, of course. B-but I just got a letter with all the rules and...”
Fluttershy sighed, dipping her head low. A strand of pink hair fell into her mug. “It’s a very formal event. Everyone has to be in a suit or dress, including all performers.”
“Oh,” Rarity said.
Fluttershy nodded. “I’ll just have to cancel. But the birds are all looking forward to it and the committee ponies were excited and everyone will be disappointed and the chance will never come again and–”
“Darling, darling!” Rarity cut in, using her magic to wipe the moisture gathered in Fluttershy’s eyes. “There’s no need for that! Have you forgotten so quickly that you are best friends with a master seamstress? A few tiny tailcoats are nothing to a brilliant pony like moi!”
Fluttershy sniffed and stared. “Rarity, it’s a full choir. There are a hundred birds in it.”
Rarity’s eyes flew open, and for just one instant she gazed despairingly to the sky.
But no. The offer had been made. Some mix of pride and affection for her dear friend pulled a tittering laugh from Rarity’s mouth. “A few, a hundred, what’s the difference? You know me, I work best under a tight deadline. I’ll pop on over tomorrow bright and early and start taking measurements.”
“Are you sure? That’s an awful lot.” Fluttershy was no fool, and looked intently at her friend.
Rarity smirked with cat-like confidence, raising her mug in a mock toast. “You handle the singing, darling. Leave the threads to me.”
The third insistence did the trick. Fluttershy thanked her and moved on, cheered immensely by the conversation. Rarity held the smile, waiting until she had fully turned away before chugging down the hot cider in one go.
After going home and taking a quick tally, Rarity retroactively decided the confidence she displayed was no sham. There were thirty days until Hearth’s Warming, and she usually could tailor three suits or dresses per day. Tack on a few late nights and those outfits would come together easy as a beginner’s cross-stitch.
It was a darling little robin who Fluttershy introduced for their sample – a friendly, chittering fellow who was entirely cooperative throughout the measurements. Inspiration followed quickly and they returned to Rarity’s boutique for a quick set of sketches and stitching. Through it all, Rarity and Fluttershy talked shop: no, even Rarity could not give an individualized outfit for every bird, and as members of a performance they would have to be uniform anyway. Black tailcoats were the only realistic option, with open sleeves for their wings and a split behind to let the tail feathers wag free. A white silk shirt and little bow tie would complete the ensemble.
With careful trims and assembly, Rarity completed the first outfit within that single day. From the smallest buttons to the tiniest hem of the collar, it took shape and all three marveled at the result. Mister Robin looked so very dapper at the end and fluttered about, marveling that the brilliant design did not inhibit his flight. Fluttershy and the bird departed immensely satisfied customers, and Rarity settled down to an early rest. Ninety-nine to go, yes, but it was important to get the logistics down.
The next few did not come quite so easily. Birds had different shapes like ponies, but ponies did not have legs in different structure or places on their bodies necessitating changes to a whole design. The toucan Fluttershy brought was surly despite her coaxing, the turkey kept chasing Opal around the house, and the two turtledoves proved too flirty to stay still. The measurements were a bit off, which meant wasted progress and complaints of necks being too tight and coats too loose. The day ended with one done and three ‘works in progress.’
Which was fine – Rarity could bang those out quickly tomorrow and catch up.
Sunday saw the two ponies three-thousand meters above sea level, scaling a mountain with picks and rope.
“I’m so sorry,” Fluttershy mumbled into the blowing snow. Winter came early this high up. “Mrs. Eagle won’t leave her eggs for anything. We have plans to take them with us to Canterlot but until then she won’t come down.”
At least Mrs. Eagle proved a hospitable host. Though she squat resolutely atop her nest, she obediently stretched and moved wings at Rarity’s request, turning what had taken hours from others into a brisk five-minute chore.
...To be followed by a careful, four-hour descent. But that was alright. Rarity could make up for lost time tomorrow.
A quick re-crunch of the numbers… it would be fine. The early estimate was a little off, but a few more late nights would do the trick. Rarity found her rhythm, at least, measuring a half-dozen birds each day and completing the outfits for… one or two. Then those needed fitting and perhaps adjustments, which they always did because she was making tailcoats for birds.
It was near the end of the first week (sixty hours and counting) that Fluttershy gave her a very strange look which Rarity did not like.
“Are you okay?” Fluttershy asked.
Ah. The ‘did you bite off more than you could chew, Rarity?’ question her friends always asked when she bit off more than she could chew.
“Of course,” Rarity laughed with easy confidence. Confidence was 80% of fashion, after all. “We’ll pick up steam. Don’t you worry, darling.”
“What are you talking about?” Rarity hissed into the phone.
If there was one thing she hated about this business, absolutely truly hated, it was supply. The whims of markets and road conditions and a hundred other things could doom a project, with not the slightest thing she could do about it.
“It’s white silk! A staple! How can you call yourself a supplier and be out of it?”
She listened to the response, and the last ten days of mounting frustration boiled out. “Yes I know there’s a holiday demand! That’s me! I’m the demand and I need it, so...”
Awareness poked through her rage, reminding her that cursing out a supplier could have consequences down the road. She settled for a brief, ladylike scream and slammed down the phone.
“It’s alright,” Fluttershy murmured behind her mane. The poor dear hated seeing anyone angry. “We can use cloth for the shirts. No one will know.”
The words were cold water on Rarity’s rage. She inhaled slowly, then breathed out.
Cut corners. ‘No one will know.’ Goodness knows it could be done endlessly in the fashion world. Low thread-counts, unchecked stitching, cheap materials… and then ponies wondered why their suits fell apart in two years. Why their dresses turned dull, and their pristine hats became scuffed and threadbare.
But not from Rarity. Never from Rarity.
“Just keep working on the measurements, dear,” Rarity commanded. The nuances of sleeve diameters were beyond Fluttershy, but she could at least take heights and wingspans.
Rarity pushed up her glasses, once more in control. She dialed a new number. “Coco, darling, get a pen. I need you and Sassy to gather all the white silk you have… ah, and the black suit-cloth, too, let’s be safe. I need it all on the next train to Ponyville, and for one of you to...”
Now there were fewer days ahead of her than behind, though only a third of the suits were done. Rarity rested at her work table, head down on her forelegs and glasses pushed up on her horn. Snow fell outside, the season having turned fully to winter.
“I’m worried,” Fluttershy mumbled behind her. She shuffled her wings like wringing hands. “We’re not going to get done in time.”
Her companion – a familiar purple alicorn – fidgeted. Fluttershy went on. “She’s missing the whole Christmas season because of me. And it’s not even going to happen. She’ll blame herself but we all know it’s my fault and…”
Rarity laughed, a tight ‘Wa-ha-ha!’ that sent them both to a jolt. She lifted her head and turned, smirking at their looks of guilt and surprise that she wasn’t asleep.
“Diamonds shine under pressure,” Rarity purred. “We’ll get it done.”
“I don’t think so,” Fluttershy mumbled.
Rarity gave a haughty sniff. “We have no choice,” she said primly. “This is your chance of a lifetime, Fluttershy. You’re not going to watch it pass by. I won’t let you.”
She stretched, cricking her neck. “Back to work. Have you seen my glasses?”
Rarity stumbled down the stairs one morning to find…
“Coco Pommel?”
And others. The meek mare was taking measurements on birds herded by Fluttershy. Sassy Saddles moved briskly in and out of the workroom, ferrying stock while studying a notebook.
“These four birds have similar build and wingspan, we can probably make the same coat for each and tailor it to… oh, good morning, Miss Rarity. Coffee is on the stove, and Miss Applejack brought pastries.”
“Sassy, what…?”
“Wait,” the mare commanded, running to the mail chute and returning with a smug look and clinking bag. “Tiny buttons. You were about to run out. Suppliers don’t carry these in bulk but we lucked out and some of your local toy-makers had an extra stash for doll clothes. These are pearl, they’re fine for our standards.”
Coco helpfully fetched coffee for Rarity. She accepted the cup and sipped without looking. “Good, but...”
“Fluttershy called us.” Sassy nodded to the yellow pegasus, busy with three chickens. “She said you’re doing that thing where you bite off more than you can chew, and she won’t let you. Good thing, too, you were never going to get this done without us.”
A bristle went though Rarity’s drowsiness. “I was getting caught up.”
“Not without those buttons, you weren’t.”
“What about the stores?” Rarity groaned. “It’s shopping season, Sassy. We can’t close down everything for this.”
Sassy gave a light sniff and tilted back her head. “Miss Rarity, as your manager I assure you I’ve been intelligent. Front-liners are running the Canterlot stores and selling from the stock. They can’t do custom orders, but frankly ordering such a week before Hearth’s Warming is a fool’s errand.”
“But a profitable one,” Rarity mumbled.
Sassy huffed lightly. “Not nearly as profitable as half the concert fee for the Royal Hearth’s Warming party.”
Rarity sipped.
Then blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The fee,” Sassy said, already glancing down to her lists. “Fluttershy’s birds will be performing for our beloved and extremely wealthy Solar Princesses. She said on the phone she was splitting the fee with us. Even at half and minus taxes it’s… well, Miss Rarity. Our methods may differ now and then, but I can’t say you lack the nose for profit.”
She motored off, leaving Rarity with her coffee.
It took an extra week for Rarity to find time alone with Fluttershy, albeit for five minutes.
“Darling, why?”
“Hm?”
Fluttershy turned, wearing a calm, smiling expression. The work indeed had grown calmer, more organized. Extra hooves that were skilled tailors mean six, eight suits per day. They even took an evening off with Coco and Sassy and wandered the town, eating holiday treats and admiring the lights and sounds.
Eight suits per day. They were going to make it.
“I didn’t ask for payment,” Rarity pressed. They sat on a cold bench, distantly watching a few carolers sing.
“Hearth of Friendship,
Worth more than gold.
Given freely,
Never sold...”
“It’s really too much money,” Fluttershy said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with even half of it. If they asked I would have performed for free. I like directing music, and the birds like singing for an audience. I hope we can make Princess Celestia and Princess Luna smile.”
Rarity pouted. “That’s lovely, darling, but we’re talking about me. I’m your friend. I never wanted to charge you.”
“I know.”
Fluttershy smiled gently, gracing Rarity with her bright blue gaze. “I… asked too much out of you. I knew it would be a lot, but even back at the harvest festival I didn’t know just how much work you would have to put in. And you gave it your all, never compromising or giving up. Never… letting me give up.”
She sighed, breath misting in the cold air. “I’d feel really guilty if you didn’t get something in return.”
“So that’s it,” Rarity muttered angrily, but a smile crept up around. “Have me be the bad pony by making you feel guilty, all if I don’t accept your filthy lucre?”
Fluttershy gave a squeaky giggle. Rarity joined in, and soon they were laughing in each others hooves.
Some of the party-goers quietly mocked the idea of being serenaded by birds. Most were indulgently curious. All of them, at least, agreed Fluttershy’s choir looked adorable in their matching tailcoats.
None were ready for the sound. A hundred birds of different kinds, singing old and familiar carols in such perfect harmony that one could almost hear the words spoken within. A hundred voices, rising in thanks for fellowship, warmth, and all else that was good on this good earth.
Princess Luna was effusive with her praise. None could ever tell what Celestia really thought, polite and reserved as she was. But Fluttershy saw or thought she saw a tear come down during the concert, and Celestia thanked the birds for coming.
Rarity and her staff had boarded the train to Canterlot, helping until the very last minute with adjustments and fixes. They mingled into the party wearing their own high-fashion, never ones to miss a chance to build contacts.
Fluttershy could see that Rarity’s heart wasn’t in it. Makeup didn’t quite hide the bags under her eyes, and she gave a gaping, childish yawn whenever she thought no one was looking.
They left the palace, parting ways with Sassy and Coco. The night train would bring Fluttershy and Rarity to Ponyville. A few hours after it arrived, the sun would rise and the busy festivities of Hearth’s Warming Day would commence.
Rarity curled up on her bench and fell asleep instantly, though shivered in her thin dress. Fluttershy leaned in, sharing the warmth of her downy pegasus floof. Her wing spread over Rarity like a blanket and the shivering stopped.
The night was clear. Idyllic scenery of snow and stars passed by their window. Fluttershy watched, slowly fading to contented slumber.
A last thought found her: it was odd that the noisy, quarrelsome birds were so quiet. They sat throughout the train, either sleeping themselves or waiting in unhabitual silence. They watched as Fluttershy’s chin slowly fell to Rarity’s back, and held their peace throughout the night.
Author's Note
Happy (belated) Hearth's Warming to all! And especially you, Mike, I hope you enjoyed it.
