//------------------------------//
// The Embroider's New Cloth 
// Story: The Embroider's New Cloth 
// by Sarcasmo 
//------------------------------//

By this time, Suri Polomare was practically climbing the walls. “It should have been here an hour ago,” she kept telling herself in an attempt to make any sense of it. “It should have been, but it wasn't.”

She had been here an hour ago, waiting in the hotel lobby, inquiring from the receptionist if there had been anybody delivering a huge packet of fabric for her, to which the receptionist replied no. She had also been here fifty-five minutes ago, asking the exact same question. And fifty minutes ago, forty-five minutes ago, forty-two minutes ago, thirty-nine minutes ago, and thirty-eight minutes, when the receptionist finally had enough of her and threw her out the lobby.

Wasn't city folk supposed to be punctual? Wasn't everypony here in a hurry and couldn't spare any delay? Wasn't that why there was a clock in Manehattan every which way she looked?

She looked back up to the one above her hotel room door. It had been more than half an hour since she last checked; surely it wouldn't be considered obtrusive to go back down now. She took the stairs three steps at a time.

“Is my fabric here yet?” she asked the receptionist under ragged breaths, once she made it into the lobby.

“No, it isn't,” the receptionist answered. “Now quit bugging me and go back to your room.”

Suri drooped her head and took her hooves back off the counter. She had already turned to leave when the reception called out after her: “Wait, did you say fabric? Red? Delivered by this bulky stallion in a fedora?”

She turned around. “I don't know what the delivery guy looked like, but that fabric must have been mine.”

“Oh,” the receptionist recalled. “That guy was here, but he left a few minutes ago.”

“What!” Suri rushed back over to the counter. “And the fabric?”

“He just sold it before he left. To somepony willing to pay him double for it,” the receptionist casually mentioned, as she drew her attention back to the register.

“But that was my fabric! I ordered it!” Suri almost jumped the counter. “How could he do that to me!?”

The receptionist looked back up, just as indifferent as before. “He did almost wait twenty minutes for you. That's how it is in the big city, kid: you snooze, you lose.”

“He waited here for twenty minutes? And you never bothered to call for me!?”

The receptionist shrugged. “You didn't ask me to, and neither did he. Besides—” She shot an evil glare from above the rim of her glasses. “—I have better things to do.”

Suri shot that same glare right back. But she wouldn't make a scene. She wouldn't give that creep the satisfaction of losing her temper. Instead she turned around, trying to make her way back to her room with her head held high. And as soon as she was out of earshot, she'd have all the time in the world to bawl her little eyes out. A couple of tears had already formed by the time she reached for her door.

“Now that's a real drag to see. Why is a pretty young thing like yourself crying?”

Suri turned around. The voice came from a red-maned stallion with a real happy-go-lucky attitude. “What's it to ya?” she told him, still reaching for the door. “Why don't you mind you're own business and beat it!”

The stallion's mustache jumped down and up, mimicking the motions of the hidden mouth below with a slight delay. “Now that's a most unbefitting attitude, my dear,” he said. “Don't tell me the city rubbed off on you in all the wrong places.”

Suri halted. “How did you know I'm not from Manehattan?”

“Why, that delightful little accent of yours told me. If I had to place it somewhere I'd say... Ponyville?”

“That's right! I just moved here last month,” she told him. Her tears momentarily forgotten, she gave him his full attention.

“The big city can be a little tough on those not used to it,” he explained. “Why, there's even people claiming that in this city it would be 'every mare for herself'. Can you believe that? No, even here there's still country folk like us who know true hospitality and when to help a stranger in need. So I just have to ask: what has gotten you into such a damp mood?”

Upon remembering, she sniffled a little and quickly wiped her tears away. “Nothing you can help me with, I'm afraid.”

“Well, you can't say that until I've tried, can you?”

She gave him a weak smile. “I'm missing ten rolls of fabric. So unless you can somehow make them appear out of thin air, there is little you can do for me. But thanks for the offer anyway.”

“Fabric?” he asked as his eyes lit up and his mustache wiggled playfully. “What would you need fabric for?”

“For Fashion Week,” she quickly answered. “It's my first time attending. At first I thought I wasn't ready, but when I saw the opportunity, I decided to take it and see how I measure up to the others. But then I lost my fabric and...” She stopped, as she felt herself tearing up again.

Unexpectedly, he started laughing. All she could do was look at him quizzically until he had calmed himself.

“I'm sorry,” he said once he had done so, “but it seems to be that fortune has cast her blessing upon us. There is something I need to show you. Just wait in your room and I'll be with you in a minute.”

Immediately he started pushing her in the direction of her door. “But I don't understand,” she said, putting up very little resistance. “What are you talking about?”

He shoved her into her room. “It'll all be clear in a minute, my dear. Right now, I need to get something. Be a dear, and wait inside your room until I have it.” He had barely finished as he darted down the corridor, immediately out of sight.

She just closed the door and sat down on her bed, as puzzled as ever. The stallion had certainly been enthusiastic enough about it, but did he really have something with which to help? And if so, what would that be? It was all a little confusing and a little too good to be true.

It took him little more than a minute to return and knock on her door. “Come in,” Suri offered.

He did, along with another very similar looking pony. Both let out a whistle as they took a thorough look around the room. “I'm impressed. All those mare-equins and designs really manage to liven up the place. Doesn't look half as drab as our room now, does it?” the mustached stallion asked turning to the other, to which the latter nodded.

“Thank you. I'm glad you like it,” she said, looking at him expectantly.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he began. “My name is Flam and this fine fellow beside me is my brother Flim...”

“...and together we are the Flim Flam brothers, two world-renounced tailors nonpareil,” the other picked up, so naturally that it was hard to believe there were two ponies talking. “When my brother heard about your little predicament, he knew that he couldn't rest until he's gotten you out of it. And he knows exactly the way how. Isn't that right, brother of mine?”

“Sure is, brother of mine,” Flam said. He turned to Suri. “You have to know we are fairly successful tailors—”

“—very successful even—” Flim interjected.

“—so successful, that we were getting orders from Canterlot Castle itself. What an incredible honor bestowed upon us.”

“An inconceivable honor! So great that we couldn't possibly hope to match it. And alas, we didn't.” Both their ears sagged at the mention of their failure.

“You see,” Flam began anew, “It was our job to help redecorate the castle by providing the windows of the east wing with new drapes. We had magnificent designs. We even went as far as inventing a new fabric, to be used explicitly on those drapes. It was a fabric truly breathtaking—”

“—staggering—”

“—stunning—”

“—dazzling—”

“—ravishing—”

“—but unfortunately, that wasn't enough. The fabric did not manage to entice the Princess, for it was completely incompatible with the color of the carpets.” Flim swooned and fell to the floor, grievously hurt.

“But that past crisis with Princess Celestia, it would seem, now offers a future opportunity for you,” said Flam, stepping a little closer to put his foreleg around Suri. “You can imagine we have accrued a large surplus of this fabric of ours, and seeing as it is of no use to us any more, we are willing to part with it for your sake, at a reasonable price of course.”

“You would?” Suri asked with glistening eyes, mesmerized by such a well-choreographed display of generosity.

“Of course we would,” said Flam, as Flim went outside to wheel in their celebrated possession. “Behold, a fabric worthy of a princess's drapes!”

Suri sat in awed silence.

Flim started: “Notice the thinness of each thread far finer than silk.”

“Observe the perfect texture arranged into a decent, yet tasteful pattern.”

“Note the silver glimmer inside every fiber.”

“Behold the vibrant array of rainbow colors it constantly shifts through.”

They stopped and looked hopefully at Suri. “That,” she said once she had regained her speech, “is an empty clothes rack.”

“What?” said Flam, looking back and forth. “What are you talking about? It is loaded with the finest cloth ever created by ponykind.”

“No, I can assure you, that clothes rack is quite empty. Maybe you just accidentally grabbed the wrong one?” she offered politely.

“But we didn't. Can't you see that—”

Flim stopped his brother with a hoof placed on his shoulder. “I know what happened. It would look like we've been mistaken, brother of mine. She is apparently not the mare we were looking for.”

“You appear to by right, brother of mine,” Flam said, dreaded disappointment spreading across his face. “I'm afraid we have indeed overestimated her proficiency. Come on, let's get these back to our hotel room.”

“Wait!” Suri shouted after the two brothers, who had already taken their clothes rack outside. “I don't understand what you're talking about. Would you please tell me what's going on?”

The two turned around on the door sill. “We know why you can't see this marvelous fabric of ours, and unfortunately, that is the reason why we can't sell it to you,” Flam told her.

“You see,” Flim began, “when we decided to create a fabric for the royal palace, we knew that a thing of such elegance and beauty shouldn't not be seen by those who were incapable to grasp its grandiosity.”

“So we created it with a magic spell deeply woven into it, a spell that makes it visible to only the most refined—”

“—the most sophisticated—”

“—the most beauteous—”

“—not to mention most generous—”

“—and of course the most talented fashionistas all around Equestria,” Flam finished. “And since you are unable to see it, that means you are no part of these select few worthy ponies and that we can't even give you a single thread of it, as it would be wasted.” He quickly turned again to leave.

“But wait,” she cried out in desperation, “I think I can see it now.”

“You can?” Flim asked warily.

“I do.”

“And you're not just saying that so that we give it to you?” Flam asked.

“No, I don't. I can really see it now. You must believe me.” And she really could. If she squinted her eyes just right, there was this faint outline of several rolls of fabric leaning against and hanging from the rack.

“In that case,” Flim said, wheeling the clothes rack back in, “we might be able to do business after all.”

“That would be great,” Suri said, deeply relieved.

“Now you must understand that this fabric was extremely hard to create and is therefore equally valuable,” Flam explained. “It is of unparalleled quality that makes it not only a delight to the eye but also to the touch.” He lifted the end of one roll hanging from the top into the air. “Just come here and try for yourself.”

She stepped up and did as she was told. He was right, it was so incredibly soft, it felt like it wasn't even there at all. “Wow!” she proclaimed. “This is unbelievable!”

“So you can see why this is such a precious possession we can not just give away at the drop of a hat,” said Flam.

“Yes, yes I can. How much are you asking for it.”

“Well, given the raw materials and the amount of labor we put into it—”

“—as well as the current price for fabric at the stock exchange, we think that anything short of—”

“—500 bits would be an insult to our genius,” they both determined simultaneously.

Completely taken aback, Suri drooped her ears. “500 bits? But that's all of my savings. I'd be forced out on the streets unless I'd rack up some money from Fashion Week.”

The two brothers looked back at her pityingly. “How could we ever square such an act with our conscience,” Flam said. “Why that would be downright vicious—”

“—malicious—”

“—heinous—”

“—deplorable—”

“—why, even diabolical!”

“Tell you what,” said Flim, “because of your special circumstances, we are willing to part with our fabric for the low price of 200 bits.”

Suri gasped. “You would really do that for me?”

“Only for a mare as lovely as you,” Flam charmed. “Plus, we country folk have to stick together.”

“I'll get my money right away.” She immediately crawled under her bed to retrieve the little locked chest that contained all her valuables. Once it was open, she paid the two brothers the amount agreed upon, completely unable to curb her enthusiasm.

“Thank you kindly,” Flam said, quickly stuffing the bills into his pocket. “I'm sure you won't regret it. But now, I'm afraid we have to go now. There is someplace we have to be.”

They said their goodbyes and hastily went out the door. Suri didn't pay them much heed anyway; there was little time and lots of work to do.

She went over to her newly purchased fabric and tried to grab a strand. It was difficult, because she kept losing sight of it. The fabric was extremely fleeting; it would be next to impossible to work it into a dress. And that dress would be all the more beautiful because of it. Happily, she went to work right away.



*  *  *



She had worked for three days and three nights straight. By now she could barely keep her eyes open, but it was all worth it. She had completed all the dresses and they were just about to be presented to all the prominent names of the fashion world. Suri Polomare had never felt so proud and so excited in all her life.

“And now,” Prim Hemline announced, “Suri Polomare with her new collection.”

The models walked up to center stage and presented her designs in all their glory. And everypony was completely awe-struck by the display. It was her moment of glory. Suri could barely hold back tears of joy.

Peculiarly, everypony still stayed silent until her models left the stage. As the last one stepped behind the curtain, a mare tapped her on the shoulder from behind. “Excuse me, Miss Polomare. Could I speak with you in private for a while?” It was Prim Hemline, surely wanting to congratulate her brilliance. Suri nodded and followed.

Once they had reached some place a little more secluded, Prim Hemline started talking: “Miss Polomare, I simply must know: is this your idea of a joke?”

Suri was stunned. “Whatever do you mean?”

For this, she received a scornful glare. “Those models you sent out were completely nude,” Prim Hemline informed.

“No they weren't. They were dressed in my newest designs. I worked on them all weekend,” Suri defended.

But Prim Hemline remained unimpressed. “I can assure you, they were quite nude.”

“But that's not true. It's just because the fabric was magic and—”

She cut herself short when she noticed Prim Hemline raising an eyebrow at her. Her initial desire was to go on about how you had to be a refined, sophisticated, talented fashionista to see them, but thought better of it. No, all she could hope for was trying to retain some dignity.

“But that was the entire point,” Suri said suddenly. “It was a statement for ponies everywhere to embrace their natural beauty. Ultimately, all a designer can do is accentuate that which nature has already perfected.”

Prim Hemline put a hoof to her chin, genuinely impressed. “That is a very interesting and tempting idea you have, it really is, but I'm afraid I still have to disqualify you,” she decided after a moment of deliberation.

“But why?” Suri cried.

“Frankly, if ponies were to really embrace their natural beauty, I fear we would all be out of a job.” Prim Hemline stepped up to the quivering mare before her to give a little bit of comfort. “But don't worry, you can try again next year, with new designs. If you keep at it, I am confident you can go far which these innovative ideas of yours.”

Suri could barely hear her. Her heart was palpitating, her head was spinning fast. Everything seemed to come crashing down on her. She didn't even notice she had made it out on the street somehow. But she knew she wouldn't make it back to the hotel in her current state. Exhausted, she collapsed onto a bench by the side of the road and closed her eyes.

The first thing she saw when she reopened them was a mustache; the same mustache she realized as the one who had sold her that awful un-fabric in the first place. When she got up, she spotted the face of Flam alongside the one of his brother Flim. The bench before her had an ad of theirs painted onto it, staring back at her in all its mocking glory.


 Flim&Flam's


Dry Cleaning


We'll Get Your Coats So Clean,


It's Like You're Wearing


Nothing At All