Chapters Keep it simple, stupid or what it is more commonly shortened to: KISS. An important phrase for any creative work. Though extravagance is beautiful in theory , in practice it tends to look gaudy and unappealing.
Once upon a time, I thought that every design needed all manner of buttons, ribbons, and the like, but I thankfully learned that simple is what really brings out the inner beauty of the wearer. Not clothing drowned in enough add-ons to be confused for a barnyard bargains sale on art supplies.
Now, if only my dearest clients could smarten up and learn that lesson as well, I could be much happier with my occupation of choice.
Of course, that would mean that they would be self aware enough to realize the crimes of fashion they commit and that could never happen. Frankly, I’m lucky that I even did.
When I was confronted with my problems of excess, I just simply didn’t understand. During my time at Manehattan U, I was, to put it lightly, a diva . Diva meant that I knew fabulous and fabulous to me meant enough sewn on tassels to derive a second dress from.
My professors of course disagreed, as they should, but failed to give me proper advice to correct it, as they should have. All my feedback could be summarized as too busy, too gaudy, and too last season — a rather cutting remark for a pony who prided themselves on being a trendsetter not a trend doer .
Every design I presented was rejected for subpar quality. Each rejection simply compounded my rage, made worse by the lack of guidance towards addressing the core problem.
Thankfully, my professor in historical fashion — Dr. Hemline was the definitive voice on period clothing and a gem amongst pompous fakes — recommended to me to read about an era of fashion that was defined by simplicity.
The Victorian Era; named after Her Majesty Princess Swift Victory, the then Queen of the Unicorns some hundreds of years before the unification of ponykind.
She was aptly named for her ferocity in battle and genius stratagem that had felled many a wannabe conqueror.
Her secret to victory lay in simplicity . She would strip down her plans to their most basic components after initially thinking of them, then, using the various fragments, weaved and built upon the strategy in such a way to adapt to the ever changing circumstances of the battlefield.
Any soldier could easily understand the final plan and move forward with clear instructions. This clarity allowed any army grunt to change tactics within their individual unit instead of following a rigid structure.
Famously easy to follow, vicious in execution.
This simplification extended to the manner of dress worn by ponies under Queen Victory’s reign. Swift Victory abhorred the overdressed, bold designs of previous eras and led the charge in designing what would be the predecessor to modern chic fashion.
Frills, ribbons, and tassels were shorn off in favour of cleaner silhouettes. Trends favoured functionality over extravagance. Style had a focus on dignity and grace. An emphasis on poise and the natural beauty of a pony’s form. Excessive became conservative, which only cemented itself amongst the populace as an economic downturn reared its ugly head late in the Queen’s reign.
By the time of Swift Victory’s passing and the reign of her daughter newly crowned Queen Tactical Advantage, mares dressed in one piece dresses with a single ribbon for colour, and stallions in one piece suits over a plain coloured shirt.
Inspiration struck me as I looked over these designs. Though a bit too simplified for my own tastes, the graceful lines and shapes of that era’s fashion inspired my then new line of modern wear that earned me the top spot in my class for the semester. As a thank you gift, I had sent Dr. Hemline a bouquet of white lilies, her favourite.
From then on, I employed simplification to all my designs. Broke down my initial musings into simple shapes and added in complication upon the basic components as I worked.
And, as all things are wont to do, this approach began to spill over into other aspects of my life.
Specifically, my dating life.
Fabulous I may be, a dating casanova I am not. Despite my best efforts, my longest relationship had been two months and that was before I began to occasionally present myself as a stallion.
Misfortune bred frustration until, finally, I re-evaluated my process and decided that I needed to strip down my efforts to its basic components and build them up into a cutthroat stratagem that would guarantee the pony of my dreams.
Thus the Four Rules of Dating were born.
Or FROD for short.
The first rule was to find interest. There needed to be a spark, some unexplainable quality that would draw me to a potential partner.
A tangible je ne sais quoi .
Flash Sentry had already met this quality. His quirky speech, his well meaning demeanor, and the adorable tilt of his head had all but swept me off my hooves and well into the realm of romanticization.
Normally, that would be enough for the average pony. But this is for me and I require more .
Or at least for Flash to get through my other three rules.
The next of which was probing for chemistry. All lasting relationships are built on a foundation of shared interest and friendship. Flash was charming, sure, but I needed to know who he was.
What was the everyday Flash like? Would I want to spend a lazy afternoon with him, simply enjoying his presence? Could we be friends outside of a romantic entanglement?
If the answer was no, then I hardly felt it worth the effort to begin dating him knowing that our romance would be fleeting at best. I had no way of knowing where this flight of fancy would take me, whether it be love, friendship, or disappointment.
But the spark was lit.
Now, I just needed to step back and find out just what kind of pony had managed to ignite it.
Rarity sorted through the stack of papers containing the various designs she had on file from several late night inspirations. Her workroom was mercifully clean with everything back in its proper place after a rather extensive reorganizing as Curio thus making it much easier to go through.
She scoffed at the stack and set them aside. Though it was some of hers, or rather Curio’s, best work, with the given timeline, she knew it would be better to just work with what already hung on the racks.
Several garments lay on a table nearby, a curated selection to be fitted for the stallion due to show up in a few short minutes.
Taking a nearby brush off her work desk in her hoof — her magic was still burnt out even after a good night’s sleep — she started to pull out the nonexistent knots in her curled mane. Despite the pointlessness of the action, it did well to calm the thrum of nervous energy that coursed through her.
A new acquaintance was about to trot through the door and she had to look her best to make the perfect first impression as her feminine self.
To say nothing of the fact that said acquaintance was very cute.
Heat rushed into Rarity’s cheeks as she thought over the events of yesterday. It had been a long while since she had felt any interest towards another pony let alone had it seemingly reciprocated in any way.
At least, that’s what she told herself. The eagerness could be attributed to loneliness instead of attraction and his kindness to politeness. It wouldn’t have been the first time Rarity had misread another’s intentions, but she couldn't help but hope for something to be there.
“Hey, what’s buzzin’ cousin? Everything’s looking much less like antsville with the cleanup.”
Rarity placed the brush back down and turned to see Flash trot into the room wearing the same jacket as yesterday.
“I’m happy to hear that as I did end up spending the majority of my evening having to get it done, but the job is done,” Rarity said in the clipped tones of her feminine accent.
“Yeah, looks banger, uh…” he tilted his head in thought before perking back up, “Rarity!”
Smiling, Rarity threw the nearby pile of clothing onto her back and stood up from her seat. “I see you were paying attention yesterday.”
“How could I not?” Flash gave a brilliant grin. “It was killer driller, and I definitely don’t want to bug out and mess it up, ya know?”
“Which means?” Rarity asked.
“The best, and that I don’t want to do something wrong since I enjoyed our conversation yesterday.” His cheeks flushed as he scratched the back of his neck with a wing. “Sorry, I’ll try to reel in the slang.”
Rarity tittered lightly. “As I said yesterday, I enjoy it. Feel free to continue to use it, just be prepared to translate sometimes.”
“I can dig it. So,” Flash trotted further in with a dopey grin on his face. “Are we dressing me to the nines today?”
“If you mean trying on several ensembles, then yes we are.” Rarity gestured towards the raised platform in the center of the room. “If you could remove your jacket, and step onto there, please?”
Shucking off his jacket, Flash did as he was asked and stepped up onto the podium. He stood comfortably with his undershirt still on and wings at his sides. Rarity began to circle him taking rough measurements in her mind as she noted he seemed completely at ease.
She also made a point to block out the rather tantalizing sight of his undershirt stretching tightly over his large shoulders and how it plastered itself to his thick breast.
“So, we twitchin’ or this just a total wipeout?”
Pausing in her movements, Rarity attempted to parse the sentence before saying, “Apologies, but I have no idea what you mean.”
“Well, you were given’ me eyes and I was wondering if that was a good thing or—”
“Oh, darling, no! I was just getting a rough idea of your sizes. I have some garments picked out, but I’d rather not pack you in them tighter than… than…” Rarity threw her hooves up in the air searching for the appropriate word.
“Canned sardines?”
“Yes, those, thank you.” Rarity grabbed one of the outfits off of her back and noticed an uncomfortable expression settle on Flash’s face. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, definitely, I’m supermurgitroid. Ready and raring to go. Not like some kinda schlub.” Rarity quirked an eyebrow in question as Flash tapped his hooves together nervously. “I mean…” he gulped, “I guess I kind of feel like a dress up dolly getting played with by their skirt with how you’ve been circling me.”
“By their… ? Ah!” Rarity perked in place as she got the context. “You feel like you’re being played with?”
“A bit, yeah,” Flash admitted, “Nothing that would tick me off, but definitely makes me feel like I’m floating in boiling water.”
“I assure you, Flash, that I’m not playing you. This is just part of the process.” She shrugged helplessly. “Unfortunately, as you so aptly put, it does amount to playing a lot of dress up.”
“Aiight, that’s keen.” Disappointment marred Flash’s features. “Guess, that’s all this is then. Work.”
“Now, now, darling, I wouldn’t say that’s entirely the case.”
“It isn’t?” Flash’s ears perked.
“I do like to chatter as I work, and I see no reason we couldn’t have some friendly conversation while I do so. Potentially, even get to know each a bit better.”
“That would be tubular, Rarity.”
“Quite, but that doesn’t mean we can entirely slack off. Now,” Rarity said as she waved a hoof, “I’ll need you to remove your shirt.”
“Y-you need me to—” Flash’s eyes widened in panic. “Do I really have to?”
“Yes, I can’t have anything affect my measurements or observations and that means only fur.” She furrowed her brow. “Though, your uncomfortableness with the request confounds me as modern trends due lend closer to au natural as it were.”
“Sorry, I just ain’t boss without my threads. You sure I can’t leave them on?” Flash asked with a slight whine in his tone.
Sighing with a bemused smile on her face, Rarity said, “I don’t normally cave to such demands, but fine, you may keep your shirt on.”
As Flash gave her a thankful grin, Rarity grabbed a flat top hat and pinstripe suit jacket from the garment pile. She held them out to him. “Now, while you try this on, I remember you mentioning that you were headed to the ragtime era next?”
“That, and both the Rock and Disco a few weeks after, but I want to get a replacement for my current gotos as things got a bit screwy with some jazzed ankle biters and bubblegum,” Flash said as he put on the proffered clothing.
“Dare I ask for details?” Rarity grabbed a measuring tape from the edge of the platform and threw one end over Flash’s neck.
“You heard of disco era gum?” Flash said as he adjusted his jacket with his wings.
“Yes, in fact. The infamous glitter gum by horsa borsa.” She pulled the ends of the tape measure together and mentally noted the measurement. “Quite a few ruined pieces sent my way due to that abominable brand.”
Flash nodded. “That’s the one. Those fart knockers shot me with a bunch of wads and then me and my fat head tried to take it off.” He snorted. “Tore the thing to shreds.”
“That explains what happened to one, but what does that have to do with the other?” She took the tape off and wrapped it around his withers and barrel.
“Was in such a tizzy, I ended up throwing it in with my other luggage without looking. Got a rude awakening on the flipside when I opened it up and found the two outfits stuck together.”
“Goodness, that is quite the bad run of luck.” Rarity took back her tape measure and did a quick once over of the jacket. She noted that it was too tight along the breast and loose along the chest. “Some good news, though, this jacket should work for you after some adjustments.”
“Ain’t that just gangbusters. What needs changing?”
“Needs some tightening in the chest and loosening along the front.” Rarity clicked her tongue. “Now that I’m looking at it again, I could probably make it more angular to fit your frame better and change out the hat ribbon for something that would better compliment your coat.”
“Sweet, good to hear. Was getting worried that I was getting a bit wide in the barrel. Glad to hear I’m still keeping it lean.”
“Bit of an understatement, darling. Even the most devout of our agents don’t have these kinds of measurements. I suppose you would be a… oh, what’s the word?” Rarity tapped her chin in thought. “Gym rat?”
“Righto. I’m on missions often, so the food I eat lacks a lot of the junk we put in it now. Plus the slickers I tend to be around, tend to enjoy a visit to the smelter’s house. When you’re built like I am, you get a lot of invites just for the sake of seeing how I measure up against them.”
“Seems like it's working out well for you then.” Rarity grabbed a striped button down shirt with matching ascot. “If you could switch out your current attire for this one and let me know how it feels?”
Changing clothes, Flash frowned as he settled into the new shirt. “Feels loose.”
“That’s the rock era style, and apologies I should have been more specific. I mean how does it feel emotionally ? Are you comfortable in it.”
“Not really. The shirt feels stiff, which makes me feel like one of the hawks and I hate those warmongers,” Flash said, nearly spitting the last word in distaste.
“A bad fit then. Any suggestions to help guide my search for a replacement?”
“Anything gorovy on the racks? Something the doves might wear?”
“Doves?” Rarity furrowed her brow in confusion. “I am unfamiliar with sucha group.”
“Peace lovers. The slang term for the pegasi that protested the militarization of Cloudsdale,” Flash explained.
“Oh, them! Yes, I’m sure I have something more suited to that style.” Rarity hopped off the platform and trotted to a nearby rack. As she sorted through various pieces of clothing, she asked, “So, if the doves were protesters, I presume the hawks were… ?”
“The pegasi spearheading the push to turn Cloudsdale into an independent militant state,” Flash snarled, “Bunch of scuzzbuckets that lied their way into power and tricked the ponies into supporting a separist movement.”
“For the benefit of their leader, correct?” Flash nodded. “Ah, yes, I can’t say I’m too fond of that period with all the rather disingenuous subterfuge. Though, I do wonder, why the doves? There were plenty of neutral parties to associate with and keep out of the main conflict.”
“Nah, the fence sitters were a bunch of squares and too far removed for me to be able to complete my missions properly. ‘Sides that, they had the best jam sessions. Love visiting that era and bustin’ out the guitar.”
“You play an instrument?” Rarity looked over a jacket then shook her head as she continued to go through the rack.
“Yep. Mainly play rock, folk, and jazz. Great genres to be into considering the time periods I tend to get sent to. How about you? Play anything?”
“Not really, though…” Rarity paused as she mulled over her response. Deciding to take the chance, she said, “when I feel… masculine… I do like to pick up a trumpet and belt out a few notes.”
“Nifty.” Flash fluttered his wings excitedly. “I always appreciate a fellow musician, no matter the experience.” He lapsed into silence as he shuffled awkwardly in place. “So, I was wondering… no, never mind, it’s none of my business.”
“What’s none of your business?” Rarity asked, already expecting the answer.
Flash bit his lip nervously. “Tons of ponies probably ask you all the time.”
“You’d be surprised how few actually do. Aha!” Rarity reached in and pulled out a loose circle patterned jacket. “This will do.”
As she trotted back towards him, Flash looked at her in discomfort as he asked, “is it really okay to ask, though? I don’t want to overstep.”
“For you, yes. You’ve been much more understanding than others, so I really don’t mind.” She held out the new outfit towards him. “Now, try this on, please.”
With practiced ease, Flash changed into the new clothes and whistled in appreciation. “Swanky. Makes me feel right in with the boys.” He frowned before asking, “So, why are you a guy sometimes?” He grimaced. “Sorry, I mean, why do you…” he waved his wing in a circular motion searching for the right words, “feel like a stallion sometimes?”
Giving him a bemused smile, Rarity answered, “I would attribute it to a type of yearning.”
“Yearning?” Flash scrunched up his face. “Wouldn’t that mean you want to be a stallion full time?”
“Not quite.” Rarity took a few quick mental notes on the jacket for future adjustments. “I’m rather attached to my feminine side, I just feel a need to tap into my masculine one at times. Try and recapture the moment when I was a stallion.”
“Wait, then you changed yourself into a mare?” Flash asked, confusion marring his features.
“No, it’s—” Rarity took a deep breath. “Let me start over. Do you know what time anomalies are?”
“Discrepancies in the present caused by time travelers meddling with events in the past,” Flash recited, “we learn about that when we get hired on.”
“Correct, and one of those meddlers happened to be my little sister Sweetie Belle. A few seasons past, for some unknown reason, she had gotten this idea into her head that a big brother would be better than a sister .” Rarity sighed. “Unluckily for me, she managed to get a hoof on the simplified time traveling spell.”
“Wait, your little sister traveled back in time and changed your gender ?!” Flash exclaimed.
“Through a rather foalish method that even Twilight herself cannot comprehend how it even worked .” Rarity rolled her eyes. “For about two months, I was, in fact, a stallion through and through.”
“How does that even work? Wouldn’t you be unaware of the change?”
Rarity furrowed her brow in puzzlement. “Did they not teach you about the repository system?”
Flash hung his head with a look of shame across his face. It was similar to a foal getting caught with their hoof in the cookie jar. “They did, but it kind of went over my head.”
“No worries, I admittedly never really understood until it became very relevant to my current predicament.” Rarity gave him an encouraging smile that managed to perk him back up. “To simplify, the Princesses casted spell that force changes to the main timeline to be branched off and contained within a repository. This doesn’t stop the change from occurring, but does it make it obvious when an anomaly occurs so that agents may be sent to fix the disruption.”
“So, in your case, the gender change happened, but reverted once agents managed to fix the issue?”
“Exactly so.”
“Righto.” Flash nodded. “So, that’s where your yearning comes from?”
“It does. I was relieved to be a mare again, but I ended up getting… urges over time.” Rarity sighed. “There were just days where how I presented myself felt… wrong , so, on a whim, I decided to present like a stallion for a day. All of a sudden those urges vanished just like that.” She punctuated the statement with the stop of her hoof. “I had thought perhaps I wanted to be a stallion on a more permanent basis, but that wasn’t the case. I wanted the best of both , not just one.”
“So, you present as a stallion on the days you can’t stand being a mare.” Flash said thoughtfully. “And you use the name Curio to feel closer to how you were back when you were a stallion.”
Rarity flashed a wide grin. “That is absolutely the case.” A frown then settled on her face. “Of course, this has led to some… strained relationships. Not many understand or even want to. It’s made me feel very—”
“Misplaced?” Flash said quietly.
Rarity hummed to herself. “Yes, misplaced. That does encapsulate the feeling quite well. By the way, I believe I have everything I need for this piece, so could you give me back the jacket, Flash?”
Lapsing into silence as he quietly hooved over the jacket, Flash furrowed his brow in deep thought. Respecting the need for silence, Rarity sorted through the nearby garments and eventually pulled out a brightly coloured jersey from the pile. She offered it to him.
Throwing on the jersey, Flash grunted, “I get it.”
“Get what?” Rarity asked as she scanned over the outfit for any changes she would need to make.
“That… misplaced feeling.” Flash took a deep breath. “You know, I regret not taking my dad’s advice when I joined Botts.”
“Oh? And what was that?”
“Always be good enough that they won’t fire you, but bad enough they never ask you for more.”
She stared back at Flash with an incredulous look as her entire thought process derailed. “That is a rather… interesting piece of advice.”
“It sounds bunk, but I’m living the consequences of not following it.” Flash sighed wearily. “Did you know that come Sunday, this will have been the longest stretch of time I’ve been in present day?”
“I— what?” Rarity raised both her eyebrows in shock. “That can’t be right.”
Flash smirked. “Five days is the longest I’ve been around since I got hired. Being the top agent for a bunch of time periods no one goes to, means I’m drowning in missions. You know how it feels to be overworked, right?”
“I… am familiar,” Rarity answered as heer mind went back over the weeks of overtime she had recently done.
Nodding, Flash continued, “I spend so little time… here,” He gestured with his wings in a wide arc, “that I don’t have any connections anymore. Any friends I had before… moved on.” Flash hung his head. “And I can’t really fix that since I’m never around.”
Rarity placed a hoof gently on Flash’s shoulder who returned the gesture with a small smile. “I suppose that would be hard, but surely, there’s family out there for you to visit?”
“They all live in Vanhoover, and that’s too far away for a quick visit. The only relationships I seem to have are in the past.” Flash snorted derisively. “I have scores of friends across several disconnected decades, but I can’t so much as manage to consistently say hi to someone in modern day.”
“If there’s a silver lining, at least you have somepony to go back to even if it's in the past.” Flash looked at Rarity with a confused expression. “As I said earlier, darling. Embracing Curio has not been kind to my rather diminutive social circle.”
“That’s so bunk,” Flash said angrily. “I think it’s so rad that you have that side to you, but no one would even give you a chance. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with somepony that could be the hottest dame at the ball then the best stud amongst the bros?”
“Oh, I can, can I?” Rarity gave a lecherous grin.
Flash’s fur puffed up as he stood ramrod straight with red colouring his cheeks. “I-I mean you are very attractive,” Flash flustered, “er, I mean that you’re super nice and cool to hang around? Not to say that you aren’t attractive, because you are, but—”
A tinkling of bells cascaded out as Rarity laughed. “It’s fine, Flash. Thank you for the compliment.”
“Y-you’re welcome, Rarity,” Flash replied, face still flushed.
“Now that my attractiveness has been settled,” Flash tensed up as Rarity giggled again, “it seems this will do as your third piece meaning we are done.”
“Oh, we are?” Flash said with a disappointed lilt to his voice.
“We are, however, if you would like, I could always use some company as I adjust the fittings.”
His eyes lighting up in excitement, Flash’s tail wagged behind him as he exclaimed, “that sounds neato, I’d be real jazzed to stay with you longer.” He leaned back and rubbed a wing nervously along his neck. “I mean, only if you don’t mind my company.”
“I’d be delighted for you to stay longer.” Rarity radiated a dazzling smile. “If you don’t mind, could you gather up the clothes we chose?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flash gave a mock salute as he hurried to do as he was asked.
Rarity pointedly turned away trotted towards her sewing machine so as to avoid the rather enticing view of Flash’s muscular flanks as he set about his task. She bit her lip as she felt herself get heated over the thought of what she might witness if she just turned around.
It was becoming a problem as her physical attraction had been increasing exponentially over the course of their conversation. He understood her, on a level she hadn’t expected. It had been refreshing to meet a kindred soul such as he, another involuntary loner.
That he was a treat for the eyes certainly helped with that.
As she stared down at her sewing station, she took a moment to organize her thoughts. Possibility was at the forefront of her mind, and a dangerous hope within it.
Sheer willpower was the only thing keeping her from diving head first into the fray. She couldn’t indulge yet , for she still needed more time before she acted on her feelings. She had to be sure . She had to know whether the expended effort was worth it.
“Here, Rarity.” Flash placed the requested garments onto the side table nearby, a beaming smile on his face. “Just like you asked.”
She allowed her thoughts to slip away. Something to be dealt with when she was alone that night. For now, she had work to do and a wonderful conversation partner for the next few hours.
“Thank you, Flash.” She flicked on the machine. It hummed to life to the tune of a comforting whirring. “Let’s start with the jersey.”
There always comes a time, no matter how much one tries to put it off, when you have to make a decision. And not just any decision. The kind that could shape your future going forward for better or for worse. It’s the decisions that keep you up at night, the ones that hang about you during the day to remind you that you can’t put it off forever.
Many would say I was being overly dramatic acquating life altering changes to the simple action of asking a stallion out to dinner, but every small choice can snowball into bigger ones and this one felt important.
Surely those who had been in the same position as I could relate to the nervous anticipation of confessing to a crush? The butterflies that threaten to vomit out of you to your utter horror, splattering against the floor in a horrifying collage of— this is getting away from me.
To summarize, important decisions require bold choices and whenever I face such decisions I like to look back to my studies of the Art Deco movement.
A wondrous time to be a creative, but not so wondrous to be of unicornian royalty. After several generations of utter failure that never managed to bring back the glory of Queen Swift Victory’s reign, the common folk had become soured to the notion of an absolute monarchy and had decided to usher in a new era signified by the downward slice of a guillotine.
Heads rolled as society evolved. A Princess Republic was formed around revolutionary leader and first of her name Princess Platinum who unified the disparate factions under her banner and turned inwards to focus on the restructuring of a failing dominion.
From culture to politics, family structure to architecture, and everything in between were reinvigorated by fresh new ideas.
Languages were invented overnight, herds became more commonplace, ministries formed from the ashes of the old courts to oversee new developments brought forth by an economic bubble.
Bits flowed freely as unicorns embraced the chaotic tides of change. Every idea, every concept, every dream was thrown against the wall of culture and made to see if it would stick amongst the masses.
Many of these ideas were discarded, however, their mark upon the fashion world would cross time and space within the cultural zeitgeist of the middle and upper classes.
Extravagance was back and bigger than ever.
Tassels, buttons, ribbons, chiffon, frills, and more were made commonplace in even the most modest of gowns. Entire hats were sewn out of clusters of exotic feathers. Suits made of dragon scales traded from a lucrative venture in gemstone mining were worn by the wealthiest of merchants.
Even the brave and foolhardy sought out dangerous beasts to be made into leather jackets to spite their predatory neighbours across the mountains.
It was macabre . It was rebellious . It was absolute chaos as fashion dove headfirst into a plethora of exciting frontiers and shifted through a seemingly endless sea of new conceptual design.
The era was defined by boldness and innovation. An ideology I try to pursue in all of my endeavors as a trendsetting fashionista.
Just as my ancestors once did many ages ago, I stand before the threshold of change, ready to embrace it in its all its glory — minus the guillotine part, of course. Overworked I may be, ready to overthrow the Diarchy, I am not .
Common ground had been found with Flash, a relationship established, and crush increased tenfold. He was due to visit once more and the only thing on my mind was the fun that might be had with what lay underneath that thick jacket he wore.
A spark within me was well on its way to a blazing inferno, but, as per my third rule of dating, it was time to see if that same blaze could be brought forth in my potential partner to be.
Today was fitting day, and I had every intention of using my wiles to tantalize and feed the dreams of what could be should Flash decide to give me a chance.
I’ll have that stud drooling by the end of our time together or my name is not Rarity — or Curio — Belle.
Curio rearranged the clothes on the rack for what might have been the hundredth time. He double checked his noted measurements against what hung before him. A rapid scan revealed once more that the garments were to Flash’s size.
Turning away, he paced around the platform nervously adjusting the raven shaped hairpin keeping his ponytail in place with his magic — a small blessing that had been granted him that morning.
He stopped before a mirror and checked that his purple triangle patterned suit was still perfectly in place. No wrinkles or unsightly seams present.
Heaving a weary sigh, he continued his pacings trying to keep his mind from focusing too much on his soon-to-arrive guest. His heart was beating twice as fast as his hoof falls, and heat coursed through his skin making him feel like he was trapped in a sauna.
This was an important day. It was the day to test one of his most important dating rules, and the idea that Flash could fail it was driving Curio mad.
Of course, there was an option to simply skip it, but prior experience with Dr. Hooves had made it clear it needed to stay. A stallion could be as fine as he wants, but nothing kills the mood more than a four hour lecture on the abstracted science of time.
A lecture on the making of buttons back during his Manehattan U days had been more thrilling than that.
Besides that, he had been nagged by intrusive thoughts throughout the morning as he prepared. Judgemental voices that declared he would fail, that he was misinterpreting things, that it would never work out between them.
Thankfully, the solution was simple: go through the rules of FROD. He had created them specifically to make the final decision easier, but testing for sexual chemistry outside of the obvious always amounted to the same thing.
Flirting.
And he was horrible at it.
He paused for a moment to quietly admit to himself that he wasn’t the worst, simply out of practice. This admittance, however, did nothing to quell the intangible fear of making a mockery of himself or worse making Flash uncomfortable.
Flash Sentry being the gentlepony he is would probably politely chuckle at Curio’s subpar flirtations, but that felt worse than if Flash simply didn’t reciprocate them at all.
Outright rejection was objectively better than pity .
Curio could feel his adrenaline spike as he trotted in place, his pulse quickening more than ever before. If Flash didn’t show up soon, Curio was going to—
“How’s it hangin’?”
With a sharp flick of the head and a perfect smile on his lips under half lidded eyes, Curio addressed Flash in a deeper tone than his normal voice, “positively wonderful, how are you?”
“Feeling aces.” Flash gave a warm grin as he stepped into the workroom dressed in his standard attire. “Not sure what makes today so rad, but I’m really digging it.”
“Excellent to hear.” Curio gestured towards the central platform. “Shall we get started right away?”
“Yeah, gnarly. Let’s get started, uh, Curio today, right?” Flash said as he stepped onto the platform.
“Yes, that is correct” Curio answered warmly, “now if you could take off your jacket? Feel free to leave your shirt on as I know it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Actually, I’ll take them both off. I’m feeling jazzed today, and well…” he turned his head away, his face flushed, “I don’t mind if it’s just you here.”
“Whatever feels best, Flash. Far be it from me to dictate what you should or shouldn’t do.” Curio glided to the racks and started to rummage through the ensembles. “These should all be good, but in case they aren’t, I’ll need… you… to…”
Curio trailed off as he turned to see Flash in the nude. His eyes roamed over Flash’s rugged physique, thick corded muscle bunched together to form hard angles in every direction.
Intense heat spread through Curio’s body as unabashed lust took hold of his mind at the sight.
“You hitting on all eights over there, Curio?” Flash asked, concern colouring his voice.
Abruptly shaking his head to clear away the lewd thoughts that had occupied his mind, Curio returned to the rack. “Yes, sorry, just a bit spacey today.”
“Aiight, just let me know if you aren’t all aces, okay?”
“I’ll make sure I do, now, what would you like to try first?”
Humming in thought. Flash replied, “How ‘bout the disco era jersey?”
“Certainly.” Curio grabbed the indicated piece of clothing in his magic and offered it to Flash as he trotted back to the platform. Flash put both his legs through the sleeves before Curio interrupted, “One moment, let me get the zipper for you.”
Furrowing his brow in confusion, Flash said, “Oh, sure, but I can zip it up myself.”
“Of course you can, I just wish to assist where possible.” Flash nodded hesitantly to grant his consent before Curio stepped closer with a coy smile on his lips. He grabbed the zipper in his hooves, and pulled it slowly up past his breast leaving enough space to allow a generous puff of chest fluff to escape. “How’s the fit?”
“I-its—” Flash fumbled as he tried to ignore how close Curio was to him, “It's banger. Really appreciate how loose around the legs it is.”
“That’s wonderful to hear, but do you know what would make this perfect?” Curio hummed inquisitively as he leaned in closer, stopping just short of his nose making contact with Flash’s.
Heat flooded Flash’s face as he stuttered out, “n-no?”
“Sunglasses!” Curio happily exclaimed as he pulled back and trotted to his work desk. Just to punctuate the statement he gave a slight shimmy of his flanks and was rewarded by Flash’s fur puffing up.
A quick rummage through the odds and end piled on his desk revealed the aforementioned pair of glasses. He returned to Flash and levitated the accessory onto his head, resting them just below his mane line.
“Here. Something to really nail that, oh, what was the slang term for it… ?”
“Groovy feel?” Flash answered.
“Yes, exactly that. I must say, though,” Curio said with half lidded eyes, “this look really does extenuate how built you are.”
“I-I do like to look big,” Flash flustered, “since I usually need to brute force my way out of hairy situations.”
Curio inspected Flash from various angles as he hummed a tuneless melody. He ended his observations by staring deeply into Flash’s blue eyes with a mischievous smile on his face.
“What is it?” Flash asked.
“Don’t you think it’s wasteful solely relying on your strength?” Curio noted with a playful lilt to his voice.
“It’s really the only skill I have,” Flash replied.
“I don’t know about that, you are quite charming,” Curio said as Flash’s breath hitched. “You got the stud-next-door look down plus that beaming smile is a real knockout. Why, I dare say that anyone who took a single look into your eyes would be putty in your hooves.”
It took great restraint to not giggle as Flash turned redder than an apple at the compliment. His ears were perked up and his tail wagged behind him.
“W-well, does it work on you?” he asked.
“Does what work?” Curio tilted his head to one side, the picture of innocence.
“My-my—” Flash rubbed the back of his neck with a wing nervously, “charm?”
Humming to himself in thought, Curio tapped a hoof on his chin before replying, “it does, actually.”
Nodding his head, mouth slightly agape, Flash gulped and said, “That’s… that’s really good to hear.”
“Ragtime, or rock?”
“What?” Flash asked before he realized the question. “Right, the clothes. Can we do ragtime? I really like the tie you picked out.”
“Good choice, now let me take that off for you.” Curio slowly stripped off Flash’s jacket, making sure that he lingered with his touch when possible. As he did so, Flash’s breath became heavier as he nervously fidgeted in place. “Are you alright? You seem to be having some trouble catching your breath.”
“N-nope, feeling aces, absolute aces,” Flash squeaked.
Flashing him a predatory grin, Curio removed the last of his outfit and grabbed the ragtime ensemble from the rack using his magic. He assisted Flash in putting it on, ensuring there were no wrinkles in the fabric.
“I love the colour you chose for the hat ribbon,” Flash said.
Regarding the gamboge ribbon that perfectly matched Flash’s coat, Curio said, “so do I. I took some inspiration from a stallion I met recently.”
“Oh?” Flash inquired, “what’s he like?”
Placing the hat on Flash’s head, Curio gave it a light bop with his hoof. “Cute, very cute.”
“Only cute?” Flash whined.
“Well, he is also quite handsome and has a magnificent personality.”
“Sounds like the real mccoy.”
“He is, now let’s finish this ensemble, shall we?”
Using his magic once more, Curio grabbed the tie off the rack and threw it around Flash’s neck. He yanked on both ends around his thick muscle, and brought Flash tantalizingly close to himself.
“What style do you prefer?” Curio asked quietly.
“I prefer a bit of tongue myself,” Flash answered confidently as he stared deeply into Curio’s eyes.
“Oh?” Curio grinned mischievously. “I haven’t heard of that one before. How does one tie a ‘tongue knot’ then?”
“Wait, you meant—” Flash’s cheeks burned red as he scrambled to correct himself, “B-balthus or eldridge. I prefer the latter if you can manage it.”
“Such exquisite tastes. Very well, I’ll do the eldridge then. Been a while.”
Grabbing both ends of the tie in his magic, Curio began the motions of tying it into the proper knot. As he pulled the final length of fabric into place, he yanked down, drawing Flash closer until their noses touched.
Curio reveled in the quiet moment, their breaths perfectly synced, Flash’s eyes alight in hope.
“S-sorry, but just to be sure, this—” Flash gulped. “Look, I can be a bit of a space cadet, so I might be misreading this, but do you… ?” he trailed off
“You’re reading it right, though this is more of a preshow for now. A teaser for the main act. Are you enjoying it?” Curio flashed his teeth in a suggestive smile.
“Y-yes, it’s amazing, but…” he took a deep breath, “I wish you would hurry up to the headliner already.”
“Patience, Flash,” Curio chided, “the best things come to those who wait and the main event will be for another day.”
“This is torture, Curio. Absolute torture,” Flash whined.
“Some of the best things are.” Curio’s mouth settled into a flat worried line as an unbidden thought wormed its way to the forefront of his thoughts. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be such a tease, I just need some more time to decide, but…” he tried to bite back the question, but ultimately couldn’t, “do you… want this?”
“Yes, I do,” Flash answered without hesitation, “do you?”
More worried thoughts flooded into Curio’s mind as he felt unable to hold back the need to vocalize them. “Yes, but will this even work between us? We just spoke yesterday about how overworked we both are and I have no interest in being apart more than we are together.”
“About that, I’m wondering if that’s really true.”
“What do you mean?”
“It feels like all we do is complain without actually addressing it. If we just asked, I’m sure the bureau would send support, but… we don’t.” Flash rubbed Curio’s withers with his wing, who leaned into the touch. “We feel out of place, and I wonder if we take on more than we should to hide that.”
“Perhaps,” Curio admitted, “it certainly fills in the long hours of… nothing.”
Nodding his head, Flash continued, “I’ve been thinking, a dangerous proposition for a sap like myself, I know,” they both giggled at the attempted humour, “that if we were… together, it might help us want to be un- misplaced. To want to take the steps to be able to spend more time in each other’s company.”
“Or we change nothing and just feel even more alone then we already are.” Curio sighed. “I just don’t want this to end in heartbreak.”
“Neither do I, but I believe this is worth giving a shot,” Flash said, a hopeful tone to his voice.
“I’m beginning to believe that as well, but would you be willing to wait just a touch longer? Just to give me time to gather my thoughts?”
Though his expression suggested otherwise, Flash nodded his head. “Sure, but… not too long?”
Curio placed a hoof gently to the side of Flash’s face who nuzzled at the contact. “I wouldn’t dream of holding out on you. I assure you that I will have an answer for you tomorrow.”
They remained close, enjoying each other’s presence, but, despite their close proximity to each other, Curio couldn’t help but feel an unfathomable distance between them.
“Well,” Curio started as he pulled back, a longing look from Flash chasing after him as he did, “I suppose we should get through the rest of these ensembles before the whole morning is gone. Shall I continue our little game as we do?”
Flash groaned. “Torture, Curio. Absolute torture.”
Curio laughed heartily. “The best things always are.”
If one were to ask most designers about the state of fashion in the modern era, they would state, overdramatically as is the norm, that the current era, Modernism, is a wasteland of creative drought. A dystopia for clothing aficionados everywhere.
They will bemoan the cultural transition of wearing clothes only on special occasions and for occupational reasons. A feat only performed for certain types of parties, intimate affairs between partners, and backroom strip clubs where ponies put clothes on instead of off. It was lewd, crass, a blemish on pony society at large.
I, however, beg to differ because I feel that recent designers miss the entire point of why the movement even occurred.
A history lesson then to clear the air.
This change began some several hundred years prior shortly after Princess Luna’s banishment, er, sabbatical to the moon. Princess Celestia was in mourning and many ponies, despite Celestia’s attempts to hide it, had become aware of the true cause of Luna’s descent to darkness.
Repression. Loneliness. Isolation.
An insurmountable divide brought forth by those who claimed to care for her. She never knew that she was as equally beloved as her sister. The adoration of her strength, her wisdom, and her grace. That there were ponies that preferred the night over the day and its many gifts.
With this information at hoof, an idea had taken root. The true “evil” of these terrible events were not because Luna was inherently bad, but because ponies as a whole were closed off from each other. Because their thoughts and hopes and feelings were locked behind sealed doors for what in hindsight appeared to be foalish reasons.
No greater example of this problem existed then the Princess herself as she repressed herself during the day and grieved during the night.
The ponies witnessed this and sought to correct it.
Hoof in hoof with this shift in emotional vulnerability was fashion. It started small. Superfluous accessories were cast off. Things that derived no meaning or purpose. Next went the petticoats, the pant bottoms, the shirts, the hats, until, finally, only a pony’s bare form was left.
This is the point where many lesser designers cry foul. The de facto moment that they bring up and claim was the end of cultured society. But what they always miss is the intent that followed.
Ponies still wore clothes, if less frequently, but instead of wearing them needlessly, they wore them with purpose .
There were the obvious ones. The guards and the nobles. There were show ponies, those employed to dazzle and impress. Courtesans and strip clubs continued the tradition of excess with clothing’s new moniker of sex symbol.
What I want to focus on though is the meaning behind what the common pony wears.
A brooch owned by a recently deceased loved one that is worn in their memory. A favoured blanket repurposed as a bandana to keep the mane out of their eyes. A bow to grant a flash of colour and stand out in the crowd.
Sentimentally, practicality, and style. Important cultural aspects largely ignored by the so-called “fashion” experts.
Fashion had not gone stagnant, it, like all culture, had simply evolved . Instead of being over glorified indicators of wealth or just for the sake of it, clothes now had meaning . They had use .
And even if that wasn’t enough to convince you, no greater style could be achieved than what was worn by everypony across the world.
The self.
Nothing could ever triumph over a pony’s natural form. The curves and ridges that made up every being in Equestria. An inherent individual beauty that could never be matched by mere fabric.
Style had reached its true zenith. Fashion was now a compliment to the form of whom it hung upon, not a replacement .
It embellishes what already exists. Enhances the beauty present in every pony regardless of appearance. A support for one to bloom into their true self.
But, at the end of the day, leaving everything to bare is hard.
To not be able to hide behind a colourful brocade of fabric, and to be forced to show everything for every eye to ogle and comment upon.
In the face of that, it is difficult to have the courage to even step outside.
I hear a chorus of a thousand worries bear upon me as I mull over my final decision. Should I do as modernism decrees and lay bare my feelings? Should I, no, dare I take that possibility of happiness? That hope ?
Flash Sentry has proven to be a joyous pony. Charming in a way that sets my heart a flutter. He understands me in a way that not even I truly did.
I stand before the precipice, a modern mare.
I am bare before an audience of many.
I am Rarity. I am Curio. I am myself .
And, as I mull over my thoughts that race past me like a train barrelling down the track, I find myself drawn helplessly to the conclusion of our dance of passion.
Only one rule of FROD remains.
The final test.
Today, with the Princesses as my witness, I will ask Flash Sentry to dinner.
May they have mercy in this endeavor.
Rarity’s was in utter disarray as she stared out into space, laid out on the central platform of her workroom. Though she projected the very image of relaxation, her mind was anything but.
She had a decision to make.
And she just simply couldn’t decide what she wanted.
A part of her lamented the turmoil caused by a mere stallion , but he was a cute stallion and that was half the problem.
Factors were involved. The lack of time with their workloads — ironic for two employees of a time traveling agency. His understanding of her, and acceptance thereof. Just simply how he made her feel happy when they spoke with one another.
On examination, the first issue wasn’t even a real problem. On a whim, she had broached resolving her end of the heavy workload equation by speaking with HR yesterday once Flash had left and was met with a variety of options to assist in reclaiming a personal life for herself.
No, the true turmoil ultimately came down to herself. Her thoughts since they had parted had been a buzz with the “reality” of the situation. How Flash was simply going along with everything out of pity. That his goofy smile would soon fall away to reveal the disgust secretly lying underneath.
Irrational, an untruth conjured by her own mind, but nevertheless at the forefront of her wild train of thought.
So many needless concerns and dissections of conversations past all observed under a dingy lens that coloured everything in a murky green. She needed clarity, but the mere act of thinking only seemed to muddle everything further.
She was trapped in a loop made by her own foalish insecurities and it was all leading to one answer.
It wasn’t what she had hoped it would be.
Logically, it was utterly ridiculous, this circular logic she found herself stuck in. It was absurd to think this was all a facade, a fabricated lie. But when one set forth without any armour to shield them, it was difficult not to see everything against you as an attack.
Her only hope of laying this issue to rest was to answer Flash just as he stepped through those doors. Tell him her answer right away. Don’t give herself the time to back down or come up with some excuse. Reject him. It was… the only option.
Experience told her it couldn’t work. There would come a day where he would see that their relationship was faulty, not worth the effort. He would leave and she would be alone.
It was silly, this tizzy she had worked herself into. But her mind was set. She couldn’t drag him down. She couldn’t drag herself down.
Rarity’s ears swiveled towards the door as a click resounded through the room. Any moment the source of her distress would walk through the door and she would have to end things because… that was the right decision.
A quick answer.
She heard the clop of hooves on wood.
That’s all it would take.
Flash Sentry stepped into her workroom. He turned towards her and Rarity watched in rapt attention as his face came alight at seeing her. His ears perked, his eyes positively sparkled.
Everything about Flash’s body language screamed that he had seen the most pleasurable sight imaginable and her mind could barely comprehend that it was her .
“Hey, Rarity, how’s it hanging?” he called out in the warm tone of voice he always had.
And with it, her thoughts came crashing down around her as the silly fragile things they were. She laughed, helpless to hold back the mirthful tide that welled inside due to her now trivial musings.
Flash moved forward, concern swiftly overcoming his features. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Everything is fine, Flash. Never better,” Rarity answered with a brilliant smile spread across her face. She stood up, bracing her hooves against the raised platform. “Now, I have a fun idea. Would you like to try something a little different today?”
His previous excitement returned, energizing his every movement as he trotted the rest of the way forward. “Sounds rad, what are you thinking?”
“Well, I’ve been dressing you up these past few days, so I thought it only right to return the favour.” A burst of magic brought forth several racks of clothing and boxes of accessories onto the main floor. “Pick an outfit for me. Anything you want.”
His tail wagging behind him, Flash called out, “anything I want?”
“Any era, any ensemble. Your choice.”
He bounded towards the racks and began rummaging through the clothes. Rarity giggled as he grumbled and fussed over his choices, never quite achieving the vision he had in mind for her.
After a period of time, he returned to Rarity, bounding forward excitedly with his chosen items slung across his back. In his fervour, he hopped and glided, his wings opening and closing with a loud snap, landing with a pronounced thud.
Presenting the two items with his wings, Rarity took note of the simple purple foldover shirt with a deep neckline and a hairpin made of a trapeze cut opal surrounded by silver filigree. She attempted to grab the items in her magic but was stopped when Flash pulled the garments back with a grumpy expression on his face.
“Hey, hey, you dressed me up, so I get to do it too.”
Rarity chuckled. “Very well then, by your lead.”
She sat her rump down on the platform and extended her forelegs before her expectantly. He stepped into her space and began dressing her in the shirt. Once complete, he moved even closer, brandishing the hairpin in his hoof.
The bottom of his neck came just to her nose, his chest fluff tickling the ends of her snout. He was breathing deep and even going by the rise and fall of his corded breast. A sharp cologne wafted towards her. She took a tentative sniff and smiled at identifying it as a type of mint.
With the utmost care, he tied her mane back into a loose bun using his wings and pinned it together using the hairpin.
Letting his wings return to resting by his side, he surveyed his work and nodded once, satisfied. Rarity eyed herself in a nearby mirror and was pleasantly surprised by the result. Simple, but elegant.
“Fantastic job, darling. I look positively splendid.” Flash blushed at the compliment, rubbing one leg with the other. “May I ask for the reasoning behind your decision?”
“Well, I wanted to get you something that would work with either gender you presented as and…” he hung his head bashfully, ears pinned to his head. “I wanted something that didn’t cover you up too much since you already look stunning.”
Rarity smiled warmly and gently grasped Flash’s head with her hooves. “Could you turn to face me, please?”
She had a decision to make.
He did as he was asked, turning his big blue eyes towards her. There was nervous anticipation there, an expectation of what she would do next.
A quick answer.
“I love the outfit. It suits me, and I appreciate the sentiment behind it. Of course, it would be a waste to get dressed up and do nothing with it, no?”
His face flushed. “It definitely would,” he replied.
That’s all it would take.
She drew him in close much to his surprise. She kissed him gently on the lips. As she pulled back she could see the joy beginning to radiate through him, his whole body coming to attention like he had been struck by bolts of lightning.
“If you aren’t busy tonight, would you like to go out to dinner? Together?”
“Yes!” he yelled excitedly. He then coughed into a hoof and tried to play it off. “I mean, yeah, like, totally.”
A cascade of tinkling bells spilled forth as Rarity giggled at the foalish stallion she had chosen to be with. “Then it's a date.”
She leaned in again once more. Flash moved in to meet her halfway.
They kissed.
And it felt like, for once, they were in the right place and the right time.
The Renaissance; a truly fabulous time to be a designer. A revival of fashion trends from the drab and dark colours of the conservative dark ages to the modern bright colours and elegant curves of the new era.
Layers upon layers of expertly sewn bodices, gowns, and petticoats of silk, velvet, and brocade. Patterns of rigid geometry and elegant flourishes of abstract shapes highlighting the natural curves of a pony’s form. An acknowledgement of the body’s inherent beauty. The noblesse oblige of those in higher stations of society.
Whereas on the other end of the fashion spectrum were the loose and free trousers, coats, and gowns of cheap woven linen and flax plant. Bright colouring, but more grounded in earthy tones of yellow, brown, and orange — wholly unlike the positively flamboyant upper class. Breathable clothing that allowed one to work without restriction, exemplary of the freedom of the peasantry’s station.
Oh, how delightful it must have been to live in a period of time with such powerful language in fashion. Every ribbon on display revealing a facet of the wearer’s very being.
Nobility. The epitome of restraint and grace. Tight cloth like chains to remind themselves and others of the duty they were to uphold. The locks of responsibility and power.
Peasantry. Dressed down to free flowing fabric that signified their lower station and the freedom within it. A lack of restraint, of bindings both visible and hidden.
One reserved in their dignity, the other loud in their carefree lives.
Two sides that couldn’t be more different.
I continue to struggle with this balance even now.
Rarity, the ambitious, the diva, the driven. A mare of many words, many thoughts, and many many ideas. The one everyone wishes to speak to, the one everyone wants to know.
Curio, the mysterious, the dignified, the quiet. A stallion of few words that states his opinion in the way he moves; confidently. Self assured, unyielding, a strength bespoken only in how he strides through a room, impossible to ignore.
And the one not a single pony cares to know.
It is a pity, I think, that no one cares to know of him , and lonely, I don’t like to think, that I shall forever have to accept that one would only ever be interested in me as a mare .
Only a mare.
Rarity, free to roam and do as she pleases. Never held back. She is known. She is loved. She is a rarity .
Curio, though, is restrained, stuck by virtue of being the side of the coin no one wants to look at. He is bound. He is something to be wary of. He is only for those with curiosity, viewers of curios .
One a peasant with unending freedom, the other bound by nobility-like obligations set forth by others.
It is to my unending frustration that I must suck it up at those times I feel less of a mare and more of a stud . That I must suffer such an indginity as to wear a dress when I want nothing more than to strut about in a suit. It is utterly degrading to be forced to wear what doesn’t feel right .
A hundred insults, a hundred agonies, a hundred scorns at the disaster that is Curio Belle. Is it so wrong of me to accept the strange twist of fate that changed my body and showed a side of me that I long for? Is it wrong to be comfortable with my circumstances?
Is it wrong to continue to indulge even if others claim it to be an unhealthy delusion?
We act differently due to perception, we wear different clothes due to how we choose to present ourselves, we move in such a way so as to reflect how we feel at a given moment.
But we are still one in the same.
I just wish someone would see that.
Truly, I was in the dark ages of my life. Long overdue for a spark of passion to ignite my soul and bring myself into a new era of fabulosity. A renaissance of my own making.
Vibrant colours. Bold patterns. A revitalization of my misery into something closer to true joy. A way forward that allowed me the benefit of at least living without the judgement of others’ scornful gazes.
Maybe even find someone who can accept me.
No.
Find someone who can keep up with me .
Rarity or Curio, it matters not, for I settle only for the best! Is it overly dramatic to have hope in the future? Is it an exercise in futility and hopelessness to hold out for someone to love?
Never. Because for a proper renaissance to begin, I must find another willing to light the spark with me. For what is a movement without others to help bring it into being?
Besides, to not be so enamored by the notion of love is to be a disservice to the era I so choose to associate with.
For ponies do describe the renaissance as the romantic era.
The Bureau of Time Travelers — or BOTTs as it was more casually called — was a child organization of the SMILE division formed by Her Majesty Princess Luna some several years after her sabbatical from the moon.
Sabbatical is also the correct term to describe Luna’s departure. To tell the truth of the matter that a member of royalty was sent to the time out corner for attempting a coup — or temper tantrum if your sense of self preservation had become truly lost — against the only other member of the reigning diarchy is, as many would agree, a social faux pas .
And Rarity committed enough faux pas by mere existence.
Rarity giggled at the word as she lay splayed out on her chaise lounge chair. Exhaustion had taken its toll after several consecutive fourteen hour shifts, and she was uninspired to leave what had been her makeshift bed for that period of time.
Bolts of patterned fabric from different eras in time were strewn over both the chair and herself. Her mane had been messily pinned into a purple bun and acted as a makeshift pin cushion. Useful as her magic had gone on strike about two days ago due to overwork and she wished she could do the same.
But alas, sleeping on her own bed at home was the last thing on her mind. She shifted herself onto her back causing several rolls of fabric to unfurl and extend across messy floors as she mused about her place of employment.
The Bureau was an organization formed due to a leak of Starswirl’s time traveling spell. At the time, many had thought it would be inconsequential. A minor annoyance with how soon the original had been procured and resealed into its proper place.
Then Starlight Glimmer happened.
Starlight bucking Glimmer. A mare of considerable magical prowess and intellectual mind that had broken the spell into its basic components and did the worst possible thing: make it accessible .
When interrogated by Botts head Twilight Sparkle on why , Starlight had replied that it was to “give time back to the people”.
Whatever that meant.
Now every pony with even a modicum of magic could cast the spell and travel through time. Even pegasi and earth ponies because of course she had to be thorough .
Thus, an agency had been created to travel through time and correct changes to the timeline by taking down ponies who thought themselves capable of “bettering everything”. Agents were sent through time and lived glamorous — Rarity had seen what the average agent is paid so luxurious might have been more apt — lives of being time police.
Rarity was not one of those ponies.
No, she was their seamstress .
When one looks back through time, one often forgets that things change . Language, mannerisms, traditions, and, of course, clothing .
The Agency had learned this the hard way when they sent poor Blueblood as his modern self back some hundred years and was treated to the wonderful experience of being nearly burned alive at the stake for public nudity .
Celestia and Luna themselves had forgotten how… sensitive ponies had been about public indecency and had then needed to find a solution.
That is where Rarity became relevant.
A graduate of the Manehattan School of Fashion with a minor in Historical Fashion — she had justified this as thinking that one could never know when a revival may occur. Top of her class, and having zero luck in finding an internship.
She was the perfect candidate for the Bureau’s new Time Fashion division.
Acceptance was immediate as Rarity believed she was being recognized for her incredible fabulosity, but soon realized she had instead been recognized as a desperate grad student that could be easily duped into a job that no one with any sense would want.
Rarity tittered crazily from her position on the chair as she thought of the endless days of sewing historically accurate ball gowns, coats, pants, and shirts for the frankly frustrating taste of the other agents.
Everyone always wanted to be a noble , or a captain , or some other ridiculous dream old time position that always required several days of painstakingly detailed work to create.
The core problem wasn’t about making a single piece of clothing, it was about making a single piece of clothing that could feasibly be made at the time .
In the pursuit of accuracy, long forgotten techniques of fashion were resurrected by one underpaid, overworked — but always fabulous, darling, that was never in question — unicorn.
A few days of use quickly resolved the question of why those techniques were unused and forgotten. They were a massive pain . Time had been kind and given modern designers many tools to make the task of creating clothes easier, but those in the past had no such luxury.
Therefore Rarity had no such luxury.
What she wouldn’t give for a batch of agents that were content with being a peasant .She had plenty of basic outfits strewn on racks and placed haphazardly in storage bins, but of course those outfits didn’t have tassels , or buttons , or brocade .
She wondered sometimes if it would truly be such a horrible thing for even a single agent to forgo the ridiculous add ons and lower themselves to the station of average .
Rarity huffed in annoyance as she forced herself into a sitting position. With an amount of surprising grace for a pony that had barely any sleep that week, she stepped onto the wood floors of her workshop and surveyed the room.
Clothes and every manner of material that made them up were strewn about the room, excluding any pins as those were currently in Rarity’s mane. Buttons and ribbons were scattered across a raised platform. Gowns, pantaloons, and shirts lay limp over ornate wooden dividers instead of the empty racks not more than a single hoof’s length away. A wince resulted from a casual glance at the fabric shelves that were clearly out of order.
A short trot brought her to her workstation to reveal that she had forgotten to turn off her sewing machine from the night before, a mercy she had been afforded by the recent string of more modern time trips.
Pressing her hoof against the switch on the side of the machine brought a sigh of relief as the quiet whirring dissipated along with her headache.
Trotting to her desk in a separate adjoining room, she heaved a weary sigh at the stacks of documents piled upon her desk and cabinets. All of them were inventory sheets, and reports that would be required to be filled. Between this and reorganizing her work room, Rarity was looking at hours of monotonous labour.
She attempted to light up her horn and was met with a sharp bout of pain. She was clearly still far too exhausted to use magic.
Between the lack of energy, the tireless work of the last week and a half, and the impending work required, Rarity was more than done with everything.
But thankfully, she could feel a familiar poke tapping away at her mind.
Rarity hummed a jaunty tune as she idly trotted about the room. She was alone, and she was expecting no visitors that day. No one that could give her the look if she wished to settle into her other self.
Besides that, she was always more willing to clean as Curio than as herself.
With an easy smile gracing her lips, she trotted into her workroom and grabbed a few choice pieces of clothing. An angular, one piece dark purple tuxedo with a matching diamond patterned bow tie, a pair of angular glasses, and a simple ribbon to tie everything together.
It came naturally to her as she donned on the tux and tie. Her gait lost its natural sway and more readily strutted forward with purpose, a certain swagger. The glasses perched on her nose served to narrow her features. Tying her mane into a tight ponytail bereft of its prior pins removed the last of the curves she was able to hide.
With that, she had become he .
And he was feeling fantastic .
The immediate release of tension from seeing himself in a mirror was freeing. To be able to look at his own reflection and feel like a stallion was like the first breeze that blew through a newly cleaned home. Refreshing.
He was attached to his feminine side, but time had recently been unkind in allowing privacy and the ability to indulge in a side others found distasteful.
Such a foalish notion because whether he was a mare or a stallion, Curio looked amazing.
Curio began to tackle the task at hoof. What was a chore as Rarity was a delight as himself. He cut through the battlefield of disorganization with gusto taking time to inspect every material, all the while finding new inspiration flowing through his mind.
A simple square patterned fabric became a disco era inspired suit. Bolts of silk were set aside for new dresses to be made for an inevitable future visit to Ancient Somnambula.
Designs freely developed within Curio’s mind, more subdued and subtle then what he would come up as Rarity, but all the more interesting as himself. It was freeing, being able to simply live and set about his task without anyone to bother him.
Just simply—
“Hey, how’s it hangin’?”
Curio whipped his head towards the source of the voice. Before him was a large orange pegasus with a dark blue mane slicked back by some kind of product wearing a faux leather jacket. “You, uh, Rarity?” he asked with a tint of confusion colouring his voice.
“No,” Curio replied as he felt himself tense up for the inevitable fallout. “I’m Curio.”
“Rad, rad, uh, do you know where I can find her then?”
“You already have, she’s just taking some time for herself,” Curio answered curtly as he set up continuing his cleaning.
The stallion scratched the side of his face with a wing. “Sorry, uh, Curio, I’m a bit of a space cadet, so could you maybe—”
“I’m an anomaly ,” Curio spat the words out vehemently, “I’m both Rarity and Curio.”
“Isn’t Rarity a mare?” the stallions asked as he tilted his head to one side.
“Yes, she is, and I’m a stallion, we simply switch at times,” Curio stated as he hung several rumpled dresses onto racks.
“Far out.” The stallion nodded his head a few times at the statement. “So, if you have some time, think you could help a dumb dora out?”
Curio paused in his work as he stared at the stallion. “You aren’t bothered?”
“Should I be?”
“No, I’m just surprised as most tend to not take it well to learn of my… lifestyle choices.”
“Jeepers creepers, those guys are way too wally wally, bloody and dolly if they’re bothering you over that . I mean if they’re going to flip their lid over anything it should be for something that’s actually bunk.”
Curio stared blankly in confusion as he attempted to parse the stallion’s statement. “I… sorry what was all of that.”
Red coloured the stallion’s cheek as a sheepish look crossed his face. “Oh, shoot. I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I meant ponies shouldn’t meddle in your life just because you’re different.” He kicked the air with a hoof. “I have a habit of mixing slang since I tend to be on missions a lot and in certain time periods.”
“Oh! No, it’s perfectly alright, just… try to give me the light version until I can accustom myself to it? Just to…” Curio waved a hoof as he searched for the word, “keep it square?”
The stallion snorted. “You want to use funky fresh, clutch, or copacetic depending on which time period you prefer.”
“I’ve always been partial to the nostalgic era.”
He gave Curio a dazzling smile. “Then you say rad.”
“Ah, wonderful, er, rad.”
“Right, just like that.” The stallion chuckled lightly. It was a warm, brassy sound that set something a flutter in Curio’s chest. “Flash Sentry by the way,” the stallion said as he held out a hoof.
“A pleasure.” Curio shook the offered hoof. “Now, you came here for a request?”
Flash blinked. “I did?” he smiled as remembrance alighted his eyes. “Oh, I did! Geeze, I can have a real fat head sometimes.” He pulled out a slip of paper from his jacket pocket with a wing. “I just got assigned some knuckleheaded schnooks to head off in the ragtime era and need some new slicks for the jump.” He chuckled nervously as he scratched the side of his head with a wing. “I usually go by the proper channels through the main office, but they just kept passing the buck when I tried to get it filed.”
“Leave it to the office clerks to be as unhelpful as possible.” Curio took the piece of paper and glanced over the listed contents. “This is.. Surprisingly reasonable. All standard fare and nothing overly extravagant for the decade.”
“Yeah, I prefer the low fashions since they really jive with my look more. Especially, since I usually end up lurking ‘round dives. Looking like you’re flush with caps is a good way to get fitted for a wooden kimono in those days.”
Furrowing his brow, Curio asked, “Wooden Kimono?”
“A Coffin,” Flash replied sheepishly, “sorry, I—”
“No, Flash, it’s fine. No need to apologize. I’ll just sometimes need to ask for a modern translation occasionally if we continue speaking.” Curio giggled, a tinkling of bells. “Besides, I like how you talk. Your words are such a feast for the ears with how rich in culture it is.”
The fur around Flash’s neck fluffed up as he stood straighter, his face flushed, his ears perked high. His eyes were as wide as the smile that accompanied it. “Oh, thank you! I don’t think anyone has ever vibed how I talk.”
“Well, then they clearly have poor tastes. Now,” Curio scanned the list of clothing once more and made a few quick calculations in his head, “with my current backlog complete, I believe I can have these ready by the end of the week.”
“Pog, totally gnarly. Thought it would take a full moon and a day to finish those.” Flash shrunk in place as his ears pinned down and his previously perky demeanor dissipated. “So, guess I should scurry off then, huh?”
“What do you mean?” Curio asked.
“You got the brainchild ready, so you only need to hit the grindstone and come out with the dough, right? You don’t really need me here to do that.”
“No,” Curio replied with a tinge of remorse, “I do not.”
Flash nodded. “It was fun chinning with you, I’ll hop on back later this week.” He frowned for a moment before returning to his prior cheerful chin. “Catch you on the flipside, Curio.”
With a mock salute, Flash trotted towards the door. Curio looked after him feeling a pang of regret. It had been nice talking with another pony that didn’t look at him with disdain. Especially one that Curio found to enjoy the company of.
But it was a single pleasant conversation. Past experience dictated that follow ups would simply be an exercise in frustration. An inevitable result of disappointment.
“Actually, Flash,” Curio proclaimed.
Stopping in place, Flash whipped his head back to look at Curio. His eyes were filled with what Curio dared describe as hope. “Yeah?” he asked.
“Would you be willing to come back here tomorrow?”
Curio didn’t know what he was saying.
“Definitely!” Flash answered eagerly, his tail wagging lightly behind him.
“Then I expect you back here at eight o’ clock sharp. We have a long day of fittings to be done.”
“Tubular! So, it’s—” Flash hesitated for a moment “—an appointment?”
Curio bit back the correction that came unbidden to his mind, “yes. Yes, it is.”
“Aiight, then. I’ll catch you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
Flash then left, a bounce in his step.
Once Curio was alone again, he continued his clean up. As he did so he came upon a rather bold patterned cloth of gold triangles. It was loud, striking, and incredibly difficult to pull off in any capacity.
He could put it away, then hope that one day maybe he would find a use for it or…
It could be used for something now. Something… new.
With a smile on his lips, he placed the bolt of fabric alongside his sewing machine for a later use. He was in the mood for some risks and what better way to do so then to direct himself towards something fabulous .
Or, perhaps, tubular .
