There are many fine, lovely towns that dot the beautiful landscape of the magical land of Equestria. In the east, the skyscrapers of Manehattan stand tall and proud above the salty sea, mountains of metal and stone full to bursting with ponies from all walks of life, every mare, stallion, and foal adding to the constant din that fills the streets. In the west, high above the place where the sands meet the waters, float the lofty lanes and brightly-lit buildings of Las Pegasus, the party capital of Equestria, where games, rides, and all other sorts of raucous merriment can be indulged in twenty-four hours a day. In the middle, scattered throughout the hills, valleys, and mountains of that broad country, countless other settlements can be found, each one as unique as the ponies that make their homes there.
One of these places, a pretty little town nestled between rolling green hills and thick forests, goes by the rather unremarkable name of Ponyville. Despite what said name might lead one to think, the little ponies that call this place their home are anything but unremarkable. While their cozy little houses and shops might be low to the ground, and their idea of games typically involve no more than an old horseshoe tossed towards a stake, these ponies boast something that those of few other communities can.
Like a soft, warm blanket on a chilly evening, their town conveys a profound sense of calm, comfort, and tranquility the likes of which the great cities far away could not hope to rival. While its residents certainly do their fair share of working and playing, the moments they relish the most are those when they can simply enjoy the peaceful lives they live, enjoying those simple, mundane pleasures alongside their friends and loved ones. Be it a walk through a flowery meadow, a nap in the warm sun of a weekend afternoon, or even a friendly chat with a neighbor, these ponies have come to appreciate the little things life has to offer, calmly drifting through their days one at a time, reveling in the peaceful atmosphere that they have created for themselves.
Of course, one might not pick up on this atmosphere if one were to glance in the direction of a certain young mare making her way down one of the old, dusty streets of that town. Unlike the ponies she occasionally passed by, mares and stallions content to mosey along as quickly or slowly as they fancied, this mare's hooves beat the ground in the rhythm of a brisk, yet ladylike trot. Unlike her peers, whose pastel coats and simply styled manes gave them a quaint, almost cute appearance, this mare's head boasted an elegantly coiffed swirl of deep purple which contrasted strikingly with a coat as white as freshly driven snow. Unlike the lazy smiles and friendly grins on the faces of those around her, this mare's beautiful visage was contorted in a grimace of deep thought.
Three bolts of scarlet satin...a box of sequins...a spool of that gorgeous golden thread...
The mare took a quick glance over her shoulder at the designer saddlebags she wore on her back, both of which were visibly bulging from the sheer volume of their contents.
Oh, I do hope I haven't forgotten anything.
She breathed in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
Come now, Rarity. Everything will be fine. You have everything you need. You just have to make the final adjustments on the evening gown, finish the matching sundresses, then get Sassy's delivery sent off to Canterlot, all by tonight. Simple.
Despite her self-assurances, Rarity still could not shake the lingering worry from her mind, especially as she glanced down at her shadow, which had grown steadily longer as the afternoon had gone by. Refusing to let her tight timetable get the better of her, however, she forcibly banished her furrowed brow and pursed lips; grimaces did not do one's skin any favors, after all.
Relax. Look, you're almost home.
Rarity did indeed find some peace of mind as she looked up at the familiar street corner just a short trot ahead of her. All she needed to do was make a left at the old hobby shop, and then she would be but a brisk jaunt from her destination. Already she could see the tall tip of her beloved boutique poking up over the roofs of the shops she passed by, its pretty little flag waving lazily in the breeze. Spurred on by the sight of it, she quickened her pace, soon reaching the final turn. Wasting no time, she took the turn and made her way past the nearby buildings, stepping out into the little grassy clearing beyond them.
She couldn't help but smile as she trotted happily towards the familiar form of Carousel Boutique. Poring over those elegantly sloped roofs, those ornate flourishes, and those prettily painted equine figures for which her humble shop was named never failed to revitalize her. Already, she could feel the stress of the day's errands melting away, and feel her keen mind focusing on the tasks before her. She looked up at the window of her workroom, seeing in her mind the soon-to-be-finished gowns awaiting her there, silently calling out to her. Her gaze then lowered, down to the wide windows of her showroom, where she saw...
Rarity slowly came to a stop. She gazed across the clearing to where her boutique stood, but her focus was no longer on the building itself. Rather, her eyes were locked on the form of the little filly standing before one of her window displays, gazing up at it.
It wasn't the fact that she was staring so openly that made Rarity take pause; the window displays were there to be looked at, after all. What did catch Rarity's attention, however, was the girl's age. She was used to having grown mares flock to her displays, where they would sometimes spend ages gazing longingly at whatever lovely ensemble she had chosen to promote that week. Such mares would often make their way into the shop eventually, either of their own volition, or after a bit of gentle enticement from the proprietress of the establishment. Fillies such as her, on the other hoof, were a much rarer sight, and when they did happen to pass by, they would typically spend no more than a minute gawking at her wares. She had always suspected that this relative lack of interest was due to the differing tastes of the younger generation. Younger mares, she had often noticed, tended to prefer the flashiest and boldest of couture, especially so when it came to mere fillies. While Rarity was certainly not afraid to be bold in her work, she had always made a concerted effort to temper such extremes with the more modest virtues of refinement and elegance. Be the belle of the ball, not the ball itself; that was her artistic philosophy. Such balance was always appreciated by her more mature clientele; fillies, however, seemed to have little interest in such things.
It was for this reason that the steadfast form of the filly before her window struck her so. She made no sign that she was growing bored of the sight before her, even as the seconds ticked past. Already, it was past the point where Rarity would have expected her to turn away and run off to join her friends in whatever youthful merriment they preferred. Still, the filly remained. In fact, not only was she remaining for an abnormally long time, but Rarity got the sneaking suspicion that she had also been there for quite a while before she had rounded the corner and laid eyes on her.
Curious, Rarity advanced, her hooves making almost no noise as she walked across the grass. Just as the filly studied the window display, so too did Rarity study her as she drew nearer. The filly could not have been older than her little sister, she thought to herself, hence her confusion over the filly's apparent fascination with her work. The mop of bright red curls that sprouted from her head and tail immediately drew her attention, as such a vibrant color could have easily been spotted from a mile away. Much more reserved was the color of her coat, a creamy off-white that served as an excellent contrast. She stood there, still and calm, neither fidgeting nor fussing, clearly enthralled by the sight before her.
Looking up for a moment, Rarity reminded herself of what she had placed behind the window the filly seemed so interested in peering through. On the other side of the glass stood a blank-faced mannequin, although Rarity imagined that it was most likely that which the mannequin wore that had captured the filly's attention. A long, elegant dress was draped over its shoulders, hugging its slender form snugly, but not tightly. Rich fabric of emerald green made up the bulk of it, with subtle accents of a slightly darker shade. It was certainly not one of her most eye-catching designs, but in a way, that had been her intention with it. It was the sort of dress a mare would wear whilst wandering through the falling leaves of autumn, or enjoying her afternoon tea at her favorite cafe. She had felt it an appropriate choice for the window, what with the heat of summer beginning to make way for the late-year chill. It had proved a prudent choice, as she had already had several mares take an interest in it over the past few days.
As she drew nearer to the filly, getting within a few yards of her, Rarity expected her to take notice of her presence, and yet the filly seemed to be lost in her own little world, of which she was the sole occupant. Because of this, Rarity was able to make her way all the way up to the window, taking a place beside the filly, without disturbing her. Not wanting to startle her, Rarity prepared to announce herself in as unobtrusive a manner as possible. Her words froze in her mouth, however, as she looked over at the filly, and at the expression on her face.
She had seen that look before. She had seen it on the faces of hundreds of mares, both young mares and old, both rich and not-so-rich, unicorn, pegasus, and Earth pony alike. She had seen it as they stared through window displays, perused fashion magazines, and watched models make their way down the runway. She had even seen it on her own face, that distinctive look reflected in the glass of the countless windows she herself had gazed through over the course of her life. For this reason, she knew exactly what was going through the mind of the filly beside her.
“That could be me.”
“That could be mine.”
“If I had that...”
Rarity couldn't help but smile as she looked down at her, taking in the filly's wide, sparkling eyes and that slightly-gaping mouth. She had done business with some of the most important ponies in the fashion world, designed for some of the highest-profile clients imaginable, and received countless honors and praises while doing so. In that moment, however, all of those lovely words she had heard over the years seemed so hollow by comparison. The filly by her side was no famous designer, no influential critic, and not even a paying customer; she was merely a little pony from a little town who had happened across something that made her feel, if only for a brief time, that she could be as beautiful as the most regal of princesses. It was that fact that made her unspoken praise so meaningful, made it the most genuine compliment of her work that she ever could have received.
She could have stood there for hours, reveling in that awed expression on the filly's face, but she felt compelled to speak to her, to hear those thoughts no doubt rattling around inside her head with her own ears. After allowing herself a few more precious moments of silent observation, Rarity cleared her throat in a dignified manner, then made her presence known.
“Excuse me...” she said softly.
The little filly nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Rarity's voice. A panicked vocalization sprung from her lips as she leapt back from the window and hastily scanned her surroundings.
“Oh, my dear,” Rarity said quickly, “I'm terribly sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you.”
The panic visible on the filly's face swiftly faded as her gaze fell upon the mare to her side, but was just as swiftly replaced with another emotion. The filly's pale cheeks darkened to a shade of red not dissimilar from that of her mane, and through the lenses of the purple spectacles that sat upon her muzzle, Rarity saw her eyes fall to the ground before her hooves.
“I-I-It's okay,” the filly stammered, her voice tinged by a lisp as thick as the rims of her glasses.
“Oh...alright then,” said Rarity.
Looking down at the obviously uncomfortable filly, Rarity felt a twinge of guilt at having ruined her special moment. Perhaps, she thought, she could make amends.
“I'm...I'm sorry,” said the filly. “I didn't mean to...to stare.”
“Oh, darling, it's quite alright,” said Rarity. “That's what it's there for, after all.”
An awkward moment of silence passed, neither mare nor filly sure of how to proceed.
“I take it you...enjoy the display,” ventured Rarity.
The filly opened her mouth to speak, but her trembling lips were seemingly incapable of producing words. Clamping them shut again, she opted for a shaky nod of her head, never lifting her gaze from the ground.
“Do you...like my dress?” said Rarity.
The filly opened her mouth once again, eventually managing to find her voice.
“Y-Y-Yes,” she said.
“May I ask...what you like about it?” said Rarity.
Slowly, the filly's eyes wandered back over to the window, and to the dress within.
“It's...it's very pretty,” she said.
“Yes?” said Rarity, desperately wanting to hear more of the filly's thoughts, but not wanting to scare the girl by pressing her too firmly.
“I...I really like the buttons,” said the filly, presumably referring to the large four-hole buttons the dress featured.
Rarity smiled; she adored those little buttons as well.
“I think it looks really...really cozy and warm,” said the filly. “It makes me think of fall.”
Rarity just about reached down and swept the filly up into a tight embrace, but managed to restrain herself. As her attention shifted back to the dress, the filly visibly calmed, and Rarity did not wish to upset her again.
“May I ask your name?” said Rarity.
A moment later, the filly turned her head back towards Rarity, finally managing to look her in the eye.
“M-My name is...Twist,” said the filly.
Rarity quickly racked her brain for anything she could remember about a little filly by that name, but her effort proved fruitless. Despite living in such a small town as Ponyville, she wasn't well acquainted with everypony who lived there, especially not those significantly younger than herself. She vaguely recalled hearing the filly's name before, and could have sworn she had seen those bright red curls somewhere, but could not for the life of her remember where. Still, there was no time like the present to make a new friend.
“Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Twist,” said Rarity. “My name is Rarity, and I am proud to say that I am the owner and founder of this particular boutique.”
“I know,” said Twist. “I, uh...I hear Sweetie Belle talk about you all the time.”
“Oh! Are you friends with my little sister?” said Rarity, wondering why she had never heard Sweetie Belle mention the filly's name.
“Well...we're not...not friends,” said Twist. “I mean...we're both in Miss Cheerilee's class, but...we don't spend that much time together. She mostly plays with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.”
“I see,” said Rarity. “Well, are you friends with them then?”
“Sorta,” said Twist, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I...I used to play with Apple Bloom all the time, but...not as much anymore...not since I got my cutie mark.”
She took a quick glance over her shoulder, looking down at the spot on her coat where an image of two crossed candy canes was emblazoned. Rarity followed her eyes down to the mark in question, seeing for herself those pink-and-white stripes.
Candy canes...candy...sweets...
Rarity's eyes lit up as the memory she had been searching for moments earlier finally surfaced.
“Oh! You wouldn't happen to be Bon Bon's new apprentice, would you?” asked Rarity.
Twist looked back up at Rarity, a humble smile slowly spreading across her face. “I-I am!” she said. “I mean...I've been helping her after school at her candy shop and all. Miss Bon Bon's really nice. She's been teaching me how to make all sorts of yummy treats! I'm...I'm glad I have someone to make candies with...even when Miss Heartstrings eats them all.”
That explains it.
Rarity had thought she had recently heard Lyra mention something about Bon Bon getting a new apprentice, but the name of the filly in question had slipped her mind. How fortunate then that she was able to meet Ponyville's newest candymaker for herself.
“Well, I'm glad to hear you've found someone you can share your passions with,” said Rarity. “You must be quite good at what you do if she was willing to take you on.”
Twist blushed again, but her smile did not fade. “I mean...I'm okay at it,” she said. “I can only make easy things right now, but...Miss Bon Bon says if I work hard and learn a lot, then...I could be as good as her someday.”
“I'd imagine she's right,” said Rarity. “In my experience, there's nothing that a little hard work, determination, and a good dash of style can't get you in life. Who knows? Someday, you might have fillies looking at your own window displays and seeing all of the delicious goodies you've made.”
“You really think so?” said Twist.
“I do,” said Rarity, smiling down at her.
“Wow...” said Twist.
Twist looked back at the nearby window, no doubt imagining rows of creamy chocolates, mountains of colorful gumdrops, forests of lollipops, and all manner of other delicious treats on display behind it. Rarity observed that trepidatious, yet hopeful smile on her face, that little confectionery artist reminding her of a certain other small-town filly who had once had dreams of her own works being adored by one and all, dreams which she was now fortunate enough to live out every day.
“Darling,” said Rarity, “would you like to...come inside? If you like that dress so much, then you're welcome to take a closer look at it. It might be a bit big for you, but there's no reason I couldn't make a few alterations for such an appreciative customer.”
Twist's head whipped back around, locking eyes with Rarity. Slowly, her smile widened, those big eyes of hers sparkled brightly, and then...
Like a puppet with its strings cut, that burgeoning expression of joy fell to the ground, leaving a markedly pained look in its place.
“That's okay,” said Twist as she lowered her head. “I...I don't want to bother you.”
“Oh, it wouldn't be a bother at all!” said Rarity. “I'd love to help you find something you absolutely adore, and if I don't have it in my boutique, then...I'll just have to make it for you.”
“It's fine, really,” said Twist. “I know you're probably really busy.”
Objectively, the filly was right, but Rarity didn't care. In her mind, she had no more important task to complete than bringing back that filly's beautiful smile, one way or another.
“Nonsense,” said Rarity. “I'm never too busy to help a young mare in need of a fabulous ensemble.”
When the filly's expression did not change, Rarity spoke again, increasingly desperate to salvage the situation.
“If it's money you're worried about, I promise I won't charge you,” said Rarity. “Consider it a gift.”
“T-Thank you, Miss Rarity,” said Twist, “but...I'm fine.”
The filly was clearly not fine, and Rarity's patience was wearing thin in her attempt to find out why.
“Darling,” said Rarity, placing a hoof under Twist's chin and gently lifting it back up, “please tell me what's wrong. If you don't like my dresses, I won't be offended, I promise. I could...make you something else if you prefer...a lovely little hat, a scarf...anything you like.”
Twist briefly locked eyes with Rarity, but soon looked away again.
“It...it's not that,” said Twist. “Really. I...I really like your dresses...all of them. They're all so pretty...but...”
“But what?” said Rarity.
Twist took a deep breath before speaking again.
“They're all so pretty,” she said, “but...but I'm...I'm not.”
And there it was. There upon that filly's face was that familiar heartbreaking look, another look that Rarity had seen upon the faces of countless mares over the years. Where some mares would gaze through the windows of boutiques and feel their hearts filled with hope, a number of other mares would feel only despair and shame, a number that was far too great from Rarity's perspective. It pained her every time she saw that look whilst walking the streets of Canterlot's fashion district. What pained her most of all, however, was seeing that look on the faces of those who beheld her own works, and never more so than in the case of a certain sweet little red-headed filly who was working hard to make the world a sweeter place.
“You make dresses for models and...singers and...and princesses,” said Twist, “not...ponies like me.”
Rarity pored over Twist's face, taking in the filly's bulky glasses, her larger-than-average muzzle, her teeth, which Rarity, even with her limited knowledge of dentistry, could tell would someday need braces, all framed by a mane of messy, tangled curls. Most important of all, however, Rarity looked deeply into those big, round eyes, eyes colored the same soft pink as the stripes of the candies on her hindquarters.
“Darling,” said Rarity, “what does your cutie mark mean?”
Twist looked back up at Rarity, visibly puzzled by the abrupt change of subject.
“I...I got it for...making candy,” said Twist. “It means I'm...good at that.”
“I imagine it does,” said Rarity. “I imagine you'll become a fabulous confectioner someday...and I imagine you'll fill many ponies' lives with sweetness along the way. Do you know what my cutie mark means?”
Twist's eyes wandered down to Rarity's hindquarters, taking in the image of the three beautiful gems that adorned her coat.
“Does it mean...you like gems?” ventured Twist.
“Well...not exactly,” said Rarity. “Although...there was a time when I thought something similar.”
Rarity tried not to cringe as she recalled the “everything rhinestones” phase she had gone through in the aftermath of earning her cutie mark.
“When I first learned how to use my magic to find beautiful gems buried in the dirt,” said Rarity, “I thought that was all it was. It took a long time before I started to realize...there was more to it than that.”
“What do you mean?” said Twist.
“Well...when I was first starting out as a designer...back when I was...much less knowledgeable than I am now...I used to rely more on my instincts than anything else,” said Rarity. “I loved making things for my friends and family...and it always seemed to come so easily for me. Whether I was making a dress, or a hat, or even just a simple pair of socks...I could always see them so clearly in my mind. You'd think I would have been overwhelmed, just a little filly with a whole world of colors, shapes, and textures to explore...but I wasn't. It was as if...I could just look at a pony and see exactly what they needed...and see what I needed to give them. Bright, bold colors for the fearless, soft silks for the gentle, and yes, brilliant gemstones for those mares who knew just how to light up a room. I felt terribly proud of myself for what I did...and extremely humbled when I realized what was really going on.”
“What was going on?” said Twist.
“As it turned out,” said Rarity, “all of those beautiful designs I came up with...all of those lovely patterns and elegant shapes that I thought had come from my own mind...they had really come from somewhere else entirely. True, it was my hooves that sewed them together, but...the beauty of them was never my creation. I realized that, when I looked at a mare and imagined her wearing one of my dresses...I wasn't really seeing the dress...I was seeing her. It wasn't my own heart that my inspiration came from, it was theirs. Every mare, every stallion, every filly and colt...every one of them was different...every one of them had their own special kind of beauty buried deep down within them. All I was doing...was bringing it out...showing it to them...with a few pieces of fabric.
“That's what I do, Twist. That's what I've always done...even when I didn't realize I was doing it. I'm quite good at seeing the beauty in things...seeing the beauty in other ponies...even when they can't see it themselves. Just like how I can find beautiful diamonds nestled within plain, grey rocks...I can find beautiful hearts all around me...even in those ponies who are a little...rough around the edges. Once I find that beauty...showing it to them...and to everypony else...is easy. All it takes is a needle and some thread.
“And believe me, I love every second of it. I love getting the chance to show mares just how beautiful they really are, deep down...and I would love it very much...if I had the chance to do the same for a certain young mare...a sweet, hard-working, passionate young mare...who I can see as clear as day...is more deserving of one of my dresses than any model on any runway in all of Equestria. I only wish...that she would let me. I only wish she'd let me show her...how beautiful she really is.”
Rarity extended a hoof, gently wiping a tear from the cheek of the beautiful young mare before her.
“Could you ask her for me, Twist?” said Rarity. “Please?”
Twist's watery eyes clamped shut, and her trembling lips parted, allowing a stream of gentle sobs to flow forth. She half stepped, half fell forward, pressing her face into Rarity's soft, warm chest and nuzzling it needily. Rarity immediately wrapped a foreleg around the filly, embracing her as she cried. Through the whimpering and sniffling, Rarity heard the sound of a tiny, shuddering voice calling out to her.
“Yes,” said Twist. “Yes. Please. Please.”
“Oh, sweetie,” said Rarity as she lovingly stroked the filly's hair. “Sweetie...it's alright. It's alright.”
Rarity waited patiently for Twist's sobs to fade, then released her from her embrace. She stepped back, gently lifting Twist's chin so she could look her in the eye. She gave her a warm, loving smile, and despite her sopping-wet cheeks, Twist managed to smile back up at her. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, Rarity levitated an embroidered handkerchief out of her saddlebags, moving it to Twist's face. After carefully removing the filly's glasses, she mopped up her cheeks as best she could. She made sure to dry the lenses of Twist's glasses before placing them back on her face.
“There,” said Rarity. “There's that beautiful young mare I saw a moment ago.”
Twist parted her still-trembling lips, taking a few moments to find her voice before speaking.
“M-Miss Rarity,” she said, “can I...can I see your dresses? P-Please?”
“I would be delighted to show you,” said Rarity.
Rarity stepped back and took a half-turn towards the door of her boutique, her horn glowing as she slowly opened it. Twist looked to the door, then back to Rarity, who gave the filly an encouraging smile. Facing the door, Twist took a deep breath, then made her way towards it, her timid steps soon taking her over the threshold. Rarity followed along close behind her, eager to show that little filly the beauty within.
