Confessions of a Fashionista

by Charlie_K

Rating: everyone
Tags: Rarity, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3359

There are some stories that simply demand to be written even if you don't think they're a good idea. This is one such story

Rarity isn't exactly what she appears to be on the surface. She's hiding a secret about herself from everypony else for fear of what others will think of her should they find out. However the thing about secrets is they have a need to come out and be revealed. After keeping everything bottled up Rarity turns to the one pony in Equestria she feels can be trusted the most.

Published 2013-03-22 04:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-16 02:46:42 UTC

Confessions of a Fashionista

Confessions of a Fashionista

Dear Princess Celestia,

I'm afraid to say that what I have to write you about isn't a lesson learned about the magic that is friendship, but rather it is more of a confession about something that is quite a burden for one pony to keep to themselves. This is something that I couldn't bring to share with anyone else in Ponyville as it could have serious repercussions for myself and others if word ever got out. I'm sad to say that while I do trust my best friends with a great deal I simply cannot afford to place my trust in them on this matter. Out of everypony you are the only one who I believed would be capable of maintaining total confidentiality.

You see my secret is...I like to get dirty. I really do enjoy the prospect of being covered and dirt and mud, my mane unkempt and devoid of mousse, my mascara absent, my coat unwashed and my hooves coming into contact with the ground beneath me and all that nature holds between it and myself.

Please do not laugh at me for this. I'm sure that this confession may seem foalish when taken out of context, but it truly is a serious matter. To be Ponyville's top fashionista requires a considerable degree of refinement in personality, poise and demeanor, a sense for fashion and style, a sense of self pride in one's own appearance. What would my prospective clientele think of they were to ever find out through the grapevine that the maker of such exquisite gowns secretly longed for rolling in a pile of dirt and staining their snow white coat with the ground that others would go out of their way to avoid having their hooves come into contact with? You certainly wouldn't buy an exquisitely designed dress with gem encrusts and gold trim from somepony who looked as if they forewent even basic hygiene would you? I can't really afford to have my reputation for fashion tarnished by my desire to tarnish my coat like a hard working earth pony would do without so much as a second thought. I mean I truly can't afford to, monetarily speaking. The money I earn from my work is divided into materials and supplies, everyday expenses, and the rest goes to my parents. They worked so hard to raise me well it only seems appropriate that I do something to repay them for everything. Besides with them caring for Sweetie Belle they can use all the help they can get. Without my reputation I will no longer be able to do that.

So you see, Princess Celestia, I am in quite the predicament. So much of my livelihood is dependent upon my ability to sell not only my creations but also myself and my appearance as someone that is prim and proper. I have to spend considerable time styling my mane and my tail, washing my coat, applying just the right shade and amount of makeup, etc. to come off as a presentable and respectable entrepreneur, and yet I so desire the opportunity to simply get dirty. More than once I have longed to go up to Sweet Apple Acres when between jobs and help Applejack with the chores out of generosity as a pretense to simply enjoy being in the dirt that she doesn't give a second thought to.

Speaking of Applejack, Princess Celestia, I must admit that I do envy her, and yet at the same time I can't help but hate her. Her work does not demand that her mane be perfectly groomed and her hooves presentable. Nopony cares if her coat is absolutely filthy from the daily chores she engages in to manage the farm. She does not have to try so hard to hide any trace of her deep desires in order to maintain appearance for the sake of her business. There are times that I am quite jealous of her and her rural country life where one doesn't have to sell themselves to sell their goods in order to make a living. She has no need to maintain a mask of refinement at all hours of the day because she worries about what somepony may think of her and not do business with her; even if anypony were to make such a foalish decision it would be simple to replace them with ten others who would be all too willing to buy her family's delicious apple wares. I don't discount the work she does, I know that it is very hard and very demanding -a lesson I learned firsthand when we helped her with the applebucking harvest- but I can't help but feel that there is an aspect of her work that is easier than my own.

Oh dear Princess Celestia, I just want to be a dirty pony, to walk around with an unkempt mane and my hooves showing wear from where I've been, to engage in crude behavior without worrying about what others will think of me if I do. I want to roll in the grass and jump in the mud without a care like the others do. More than once I have had to restrain myself in public even with my friends for the above mentioned reasons. When Applejack, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie get together and try to top each other in crudeness with their belching contests it is so hard to not burst out laughing in foalish amusement at what they do. It is equally hard not to try and get in on the competition in an effort to show them up.

I have found some small sources of relief, little breaks from the strain of always being so perfect and organized at all times. In my line of work a certain level of haphazardness is considered a sign of great genius and I've learned to work with that, such is the case of my dress making room. While the rest of my boutique is a well organized and cleaned area perfect for displaying my creations, my dress making room is a comparative shambles of unorganized patterns, haphazardly placed tools, unsorted pieces of material laying about in a pile not the least bit color coordinated; in short it's a royal mess. But it's my mess, a break from the day-to-day difficulties of maintaining a high maintenance appearance, a sanctuary to the overwhelming level of order and neatness that I must maintain.

I don't feel ashamed to admit to you that on more than a few nights of being unable to get a restful night's sleep I retreat to my dress making room and surround myself in the comforting unkempt-ness of it all. From a space at the very back of the closet, hidden away from normal view, I'll slip myself into an over-sized gray sweater that's covered with grass stains, dirt smudges and hasn't seen the inside of a laundry room in many months, pull out an old blanket that Opal has spent a few nights on herself and bed down there on the floor. It's not the most comfortable of places for a night's rest, but it is emotionally comforting and soothing and that's what matters.

I can't even begin to describe what I felt when Sweetie Belle took it upon herself to straighten up my dress making room for me. On the one hoof I was touched that she cared so much and put so much effort into organizing everything by color and category and putting it away, but on the other hoof it was my room to do with as I pleased and it was my own personal mess that was defiled. Poor Sweetie Belle, I never should have yelled at her for simply wanting to help me out. I did my best to make it up to her during the rest of her stay, but I can't help but wonder if I should have explained to her about the significance of that disorganized accumulation.

It took me weeks to get everything back the way it was before and where I could actually find things by instinct again. Sometimes it's best for measuring tape to be draped around the neck of a ponnequin rather than stashed away in the drawer with the scissors and pincushion.

But I will say this, Princess Celestia, Sweetie Belle's presence at my boutique was a blessing in disguise of sorts. In learning how to work together to yield better results -making great apple pie as Applejack explained in her own unique way- I found a socially acceptable excuse for engaging in my own secret desires. Sweetie Belle's lack of social pressure and her appreciation for the simpler things in life had blessed her with a Discord may care opinion of dirt and mud and an almost inborn desire to be dirty. Being her big sister and learning to make compromises between our two standards of doing things awarded me an opportunity to get down and dirty under the guise of sisterly bonding and fun. Not to say it wasn't fun in itself, but being able to shed the burden of being prim and proper at all times was such an emotional relief. I can't begin to explain how grateful I was to my dear little sister during that week.

I likely owe Applejack an apology regarding my previous view of the Sisterhoove's Social that her family hosts every year. Maintaining the status image of a successful fashionista requires an uppity view of the simpler things in life and holding them as uncouth, even if they turn out to be quite enjoyable.

Perhaps it is appropriate that I thank you most of all, Princess Celestia, for sending your precious student Twilight Sparkle to Ponyville, as it was her uniting the six of us into a group that has afforded me with so many opportunities to actually engage in this guilty pleasure of mine. So many chances to be dirty, covered in mud and away from the judging eyes of others. If it weren't for your desire you see Twilight grow and make friends I don't know where I would be today.

There is so much I could tell you, Princess Celestia, but I don't know if that would be appropriate. I wrote this letter in order to confess to another pony about what makes me happy when nopony else is looking and why I must keep it hidden; not to engage in an explicitly detailed account of what I would love to do if provided the opportunity. I don't really believe it would be appropriate to subject you to everything that I could tell you. But I will say this; having written you this letter I do feel better now. The emotional burden doesn't seem so heavy now that I have shared it with somepony else. Now it seems almost bearable, like I can continue on now that another knows what I have to go through from day to day. I don't know what you may think after having read this, but again I thank you, both for what you have done, and for the time that you spent in reading this letter.

Sincerely, your loyal subject, Rarity

Princess Celestia paused as the letter came to a close, trying to digest the information that she'd been presented with by Rarity. She gently set the letter aside with her magic and let out a sigh as she closed her eyes, uncertain of what to think on the situation. Rarity indeed shouldered a considerable burden in taking steps to maintains airs that weren't really her own. She was hiding away a part of herself for the sake of others that she cared about and as a result was suffering because of it. Her motivation was certainly rooted in the element of generosity that she represented. However she couldn't help but wonder if Rarity was trying too hard on the matter and taking steps that were simply unnecessary.

She was pleased that Rarity wasn't so imposed by her royal status as to feel she was unapproachable when it came to personal matters -something she wished Twilight Sparkle herself could learn- but what could she do for the young fashion conscious unicorn? Simply being ruler of the land didn't mean you could disregard the rules of order anytime you pleased as there would be serious repercussions to be had. Making a special trip to Ponyville to meet with her would only make the situation worse by adding further scrutiny to the poor filly, and she didn't need any of that right now. What was she to do?

Then again nowhere in Rarity's letter had she implored her to provide her with any assistance. If anything it read like she simply wished to have somepony she could share her secret with so she knew that she wasn't the only one who knew. If that were the case then simply being a good listener would be quite helpful. But still she couldn't help but feel the desire to do more, but what?

And then it came to her like a clap of thunder. An idea struck her and she smiled. With a glow of her horn she took parchment, ink and quill, and sat down to write out a response.

"Dear Rarity," Princess Celestia spoke as the quill transcribed the words onto the parchment, "I myself have a secret that I'd like to share. I enjoy getting dirty too..."

Confessions of a Princess

Confessions of a Princess

Dear Rarity,

I myself have a secret that I'd like to share. I enjoy getting dirty too.

I can certainly understand your plight well, my dear little pony. When one is royalty it comes with so many responsibilities that are simply left out of the fairy tales read to little fillies when they're growing up. Fanciful clothing, adoring subjects and servants are certainly a part of it all, but so are the many, many meetings that must be attended to on a daily basis, meeting with nobles and foreign dignitaries, and being savy in the politics of their government, familiar with local traditions regarding not only rule but the role gender plays in the matter...I must confess it can be overwhelming no matter how educated one may be. There are times when you just feel the urge to scream and pull your mane out in frustration, or to issue a decree that you will be meeting with no more dignitaries that day due to having a migraine.

We all have our ways of coping with our responsibilities, not only to ourselves but to others. We are all in need of some sort of relief from the day-to-day strain we must suffer to carry out our roles, some hobby to distract ourselves, some little rebellion from order for the sake of our sanity and our well being. However the extent that we can get away with them is another matter entirely. Some of us are in a position where this proves more difficult than it does for others. On more than one occasion I have longed for the chance to get away and simply run with no specific destination in mind. I would so love to simply disregard my royal duties of the day and gallop through the Everfree Forest without a care in the world, stirring up huge billowing clouds of dirt all around me and not making my way back to Canterlot until long after dawn had broken, my white coat and flowing mane stained so many different shades of brown that it simply wouldn't do to meet with visiting dignitaries and the local chancellors. But sadly this isn't a possibility for me.

There have been many times that I have wished for a successor to the throne, someone that could one day take over the responsibilities I have, thus allowing me to be free like so many other ponies. Sadly for a successor to be named it would be necessary for them to possess considerably stronger magical talent than myself. My precious student Twilight Sparkle most certainly has the potential for this feat, but I would never wish the burden of leadership on her as I know what it would involve.

For now all I can do is dream about the life that is so far out of my reach, and yet so close my hooves could almost touch it...

Like you I too understand the importance of having a special room one can call their own and only their own, a room where intrusion by the outside world isn't accepted. For you it is your dress making room. For me it is my private chambers, which are completely separate from the royal chambers. However I must apologize as I cannot go into detail as to what these chambers hold within.

I can also understand how you feel that your secret isn't something you can freely share with your friends. There are things that even now I still can't bring myself to share with my dear sister Luna. It may not seem like it now, but one lesson you'll learn about the magic of friendship is that it doesn't require total honesty with everyone about everything. Sometimes there are secrets that simply need to be kept regardless of what others may say.

Sincerely,
Princess Celestia

P.S. I would indeed buy an exquisitely designed gown from a pony regardless of how disheveled and uncouth they may look if I believed that they put their heart into it and genuinely cared about the quality of their work and the finished product.

Rarity...she simply couldn't believe the letter as it came to a close, this had to be a dream, it couldn't actually be real could it?

She had never expected that Princess Celestia would have actually responded to her letter, and especially not in such a manner. What's more the letter hadn't come through the usual channel of Spike but rather it had been delivered as if my telekinesis, having floated in through an open window in her boutique and setting itself down on her desk, her name emblazoned in a gold font on the ribbon that held it shut. Surely Princess Celestia didn't have the time to privately deliver a written response to her all the way from Canterlot...

...and yet she had. She had taken the time to read her letter and write a letter of her own in response, and then sent it out directly to her, delivered in a manner that guaranteed only she would be able to read it.

It wasn't ridicule or dismissal that Princess Celestia had sent, but rather the unexpected message of acceptance and understanding, even a confession of her own. By the time the surprise of it all had worn off near the end of the letter tears were already starting to stream down her face, tears that were born from an overwhelming sense of happiness. She had found someone who understood her; The Princess understood her!

"Yahoo!" she shouted excitedly and leaped for joy, not caring at all who she may be disturbing at this hour with her sudden outburst. With news like this she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Oh this is so wonderful, so wonderful," she said to herself, filled with so much excitement she was prancing in place and looking about the room. She had to do something in response to celebrate this newfound sense of freedom, the sense of no longer carrying such a heavy emotional burden.

But first before she could actually celebrate there was something else she had to do, something she knew that was far more pressing.

"Dear Princess Celestia," she read as she began taking a letter in response, so giddy she was having trouble with her usual orderly quillmanship, "I cannot even begin to thank you enough for actually taking the time to respond to my letter, or making me privy to such personal and secret information about yourself.

But I must start somewhere and at least try. What type of gown would you like?"