Haute Couture

Rarity was thinking to herself, Goodness me, that mare’s outfit looks... like, familiar? But worse? when said outfit burst into flames.

“Shit,” said Rarity, “fuck, shit.” She grabbed her iced mocha latte and doused the mare, who let out an ear-splitting shriek. Everyone in the Ponybucks turned to look at Rarity.

“What was that for?” the mare demanded.

Rarity blinked. “Sorry, come again? It sounded like you said something other than thank you for saving my life.”

The mare kicked the empty plastic cup. “You just ruined my mane!”

“Your mane? Your—” Rarity took a beat to compose herself. “I understand the value of a good blow-out better than anypony. But, and correct me if I’m wrong here, I’m fairly certain that oat milk and espresso is not as bad for your mane as fire.”

The mare squinted hard at Rarity. “You own the boutique on the south side of town, right?”

“Southeast. The arts district. Sorry, we’re getting off-topic, I just didn’t like how you said ‘south side of town’ like that. There’s a lot of new developments there. The stabbing rate’s blown completely out of proportion. There’s a local news segment debunking this.”

“What? No. I’m saying, you’re a fashion pony. How do you not know about Seasonal Fashion?”

“I’m familiar with seasonal fashion as a concept. Are we having the same conversation here?”

“Not seasonal fashion. Seasonal Fashion.”

The mare picked up a charred fragment of her outfit from the ground. On the tag was written:

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Seasonal Fashion

a transitory experience by

SASSY SADDLES

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