The day was progressing at its typical, steady pace; the sun traced its all too familiar Autumnal path through the sky. Why did it have to dip below the equator? For that matter, why go round and round never straying far from it in the first place? Discord bounced an idea back and forth in his skull of nudging the sun ever so slightly into a completely perpendicular course. For one thing, it would make seasons more interesting. However, Celly and Lulu would probably give him grief over it, which would mean even more griping from Twilight Sparkle as well, and that would probably result in Fluttershy refusing to participate in anything fun until he'd reset the sun's trajectory. All in all, not worth it just for a bit of fun. And they accuse me of being unreasonable.
Setting aside thoughts of world-altering flights of fancy, Discord pondered who to visit next. He was warming up to the notion of getting to know Fluttershy's friends a little bit better, but still wasn't in the mood to spend any significant amount of time inside of a library. That left Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie and Rarity. Better save Pinkie for later, in case I need some spontaneity to make up for one of the other ponies being entirely uninteresting. After a teensy bit more deliberation, the draconequus settled on Rarity. Rainbow Dash was probably asleep on a random cloud, anyway.
Carousel Boutique was easy enough to find; its overwrought exterior stood out amongst the many samey thatch roof cottages that had somehow never been incinerated by a dragon. When the little bell went off over his head, Discord immediately wondered why he had bothered to use the door. A familiar, lilting voice wafted out from the back room.
“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique and magnifique!” Upon reaching the front room, Rarity's face visibly froze, then went through a sort of slide show of expressions. Discord counted off surprise, curiosity, alarm, worry, something like a cross between indignation and distress, a kind of serene look that must have been either acceptance or a conscious effort to reign in her emotions, and finally she settled into annoyance bordering on anger.
Rarity cleared her throat rather harshly and asked, “Is there something I can do for you, Discord?”
She's at least trying to ask 'what do you want' politely. “I'm here on Fluttershy's orders, as it were. She's tasked me with spending some quality time with her friends in the hopes that we'll all be the best of chums afterward.”
“You don't sound terribly enthusiastic. I suppose you expect it won't make a difference.”
“I don't know about being friends, exactly, but I spoke with Applejack for a while and actually enjoyed just talking. No tricks. Well, except to emphasize or demonstrate a point, but that's more like magical gesturing than spreading chaos.”
“So, if I'm understanding this, you stopped by just to talk?”
“Shocking, I know.”
“While I'm pleasantly surprised by the benign nature of your visit, I'm afraid I'm busy at the moment. Besides, I can't think of a thing we have in common to discuss.”
“Why, I thought you might like to discuss fashion with me.”
“Fashion?” Rarity asked with a mirthful chuckle. “Excuse me, I don't mean to laugh, but really? You care about fashion?”
“Oh, yes. Out of all the insipid nuances and needless complexities of pony society, the only thing with an infrastructure that I can appreciate is the fashion industry. I mean, look at the results! It's in a constant state of flux; every day the new replaces the old without resistance. Cutting edge fashion is a bizarre, inexorable parade of insensible, impractical and insane outfits intended to make a spectacle out of the wearer.” In a flash, Discord's slender body was encompassed in an outfit that might have resembled a zebra-striped jumpsuit, except that zebra stripes usually weren't many different colors, or geometric shapes.
“There's quite a bit more to it than that,” Rarity rebuked. “One's clothes should accentuate their appearance, making them alluring and provocative. Outward appearance is a powerful tool for expression, you know. It tells ponies a little bit about oneself and is the cornerstone of making a good impression. Besides, fashion design is a creative process that never truly ends. One must take into account many things like the choice of fabric, patterns, colors, volume and fine details such as the type of stitch or accents. Really, we're barely scratching the surface.”
As she spoke, Rarity led the way into her creative space where she had been hard at work. Discord could see half-formed dresses, gowns and suits on dummies. The drawing table had a stack of sketches on it, which he took a closer look at. “Oh, Celestia's massive, sun-laden ass! You've managed to do the one thing in fashion that prevents me from actually considering it worthwhile.”
“Excuse me!?” Rarity demanded, feeling both insulted and embarrassed by Discord's outburst.
“I recognize these designs, or at least parts of them. I don't mean from just recently; from before I slept like a rock for a millennium and a half. You're doing one of those awful neo-whatever designs.”
“Neo-Classical,” Rarity pointed out in a huff. “Besides, there is nothing wrong with taking inspiration from the past. My new Winter line is meant to use the practical, weather resilient elements of Pre-Equestrian era clothes and combine them with the more decadent aesthetic stylings of Equestria's first major historical period, the Platinum Dynasty. I've done a bit of research that suggests that some citizens of early Equestria modified their old clothes to emulate new styles from the upper echelons of society, so these new garments are very reminiscent of that practice.”
“In other words, your 'new' designs are a rehash of something that is not only ancient, but borrowed in the first place.” Discord was suddenly in a dark turtleneck and beret, he wore thick rimmed glasses and sipped on an espresso. “How meta of you.”
“It's not a mere copy. It's the result of combining different things to arrive at a beautiful, new result. An artist draws inspiration from many sources, and everything around us imparts something of itself in us. There is nothing entirely original in existence except for nature itself. Contemporary visionaries are simply divining the latest derivations. In any case, you hardly have room to criticize over borrowed elements. Your own chaotic creations are little more than recombinations of anything and everything.”
“Hm. That may be, but I never claimed that my chaos was art. Besides, those old clothes were made the way they were because it was all they had to work with. The peasantry took the thickest materials on hoof and stitched them together into cloaks while the elite mashed the prettiest color plants they could find into paste and watered that down to make dye. If anything, they were being as original as a pony could – by your logic – taking their inspiration directly from nature.”
“That's not quite what I meant. Originality is our own take on the world. It's what one perceives and feels and shares with others that gives them a new way of looking at things. True art is when one's perspective resonates with others and has a message so profound that it isn't only relevant then, but becomes timeless. The clothes I'm drawing inspiration from may be antiquities, but they are meaningful, and my designs will carry that message and more.”
Discord rolled his eyes. “Why would anypony want their message to be timeless? So that everypony can criticize it and 'interpret' it and rehash it forever?” Discord snapped his talons and summoned a few pieces of well known art including a painting of a village under Luna's star-encrusted sky, a monochrome photograph of a busy street in Manehattan, and a clay bas-relief which appeared to still be fresh despite it's antiquity. “Take these for example. I imagine you know of the artists?”
“Vincent van Goat, Vivian Mare, and I'm fairly certain you've either made up the last one or stolen it from the distant past, thus erasing it from history and preventing anypony from knowing what it is.”
Discord contemplated the small, square piece of clay. If he had been able to go further insane upon examining the creature depicted on it, he might have. Instead, he returned it and the other pieces from whence they came and turned his attention back to Rarity. “Right well, the first two then. Other than being well-renowned artists whose work has gained much critical success and been extremely influential, do you know what they have in common?”
“I suppose you're alluding to the fact that they both died before receiving their due recognition?”
“Yes, but more to the point, their art was ignored or hidden away at the time it was relevant. Now these images are more like relics, only interesting to historians and art snobs. If an artist reaches out, but is ignored only for their message to be received long after they've gone, then what was the point? Ponies can't communicate posthumously. The laws of life and death are breakable, given the right circumstances, but that's generally frowned upon.”
“That's just it though, their work lives on. Their message is immortalized. When new artists draw inspiration from their work, then the original artists have succeeded in passing their legacy down.”
“But they'll never know. As far as a dead artist is concerned, their work was only as valuable as the ponies they knew in life thought it was. That's part of why I generally don't care for art, but make an exception in fashion. It's an art form that doesn't concern itself with the unknowable future. It only cares about now, about what ponies will find worthwhile the moment they see it. You are so much more successful and happy than any artist who was 'immortalized' after they'd already died.”
“Even if that is true, you're forgetting all the artists who were successful and famous during their lifetimes.”
“Pft,” Discord scoffed, “so they were liked when they lived. They're dead now. Haven't I already mentioned that I don't care about the past? Their lingering art isn't any better off. Now their detritus gets to hang around just the same, being picked apart forever, like leftovers tiding over hungry bottom feeders. Redone to death, criticized by generations that will find the attitudes and ideals of the artist unrelatable, added to a dusty collection in a private home or museum for ungrateful masses to gawk at in exchange for a fee. The greatest kindness those artists will ever be granted is being forgotten.”
Rarity felt appalled at the idea that being forgotten could possibly be kind. “I can't- That's simply- it's monstrous that-”
“I know, I know. It's horrid,” Discord consoled Rarity, patting her shoulder as he spoke. “The good news is that you'll never have to worry about that sort of thing. Fashion has evolved beyond the concept of having specific eras like most art forms. Your art will be recognized or forgotten in an instant, and the very thought of a Neo-Something for current fashion trends is laughable. Why, your designs will be widely worn for a single season, maybe an half year, and then discarded in favor of something new. Just think, as long as you feel creative, you can be as prolific as you like and there will always be a demand for new clothes. Each time the weather takes a turn, you sell another line and the profit and praise never stops. I bet the fashion industry just loves weather ponies.”
Rarity opened her mouth to object to the idea that she created simply for profit, then stopped short. She smirked at the draconequus and said, “I see what you're doing. You want me to feel bad about my designs because they aren't timeless masterpieces.”
Discord raised an eyebrow. “Not at all. I honestly hate the notion of something being timeless.” He paused as he considered how to proceed, and grinned deviously as he decided to let Rarity dig her own hole. “Then again, Applejack made a good point about struggling for the sake of earning one's living as opposed to just having it handed to them. So, go ahead. Explain to me why your designs will be improved by being worn time and again, and how future designers using your work as a starting point are better off than if they'd thought of something less derivative.”
Rarity gathered her thoughts and formed a rebuttal that she believed would make even Discord understand. “Art doesn't improve because its impact is far-reaching. That is a quality which exists within the piece from the moment it is created. Clothes are not meant to be worn forever, and yes, as seasons go by we change our clothes to fit our needs. The point of making a design that will be remembered – if not worn – is to contribute an idea which will enrich the efforts of others. If they are looking for a garment that helps them to display who there are inside, then naturally they will move on to a different style as they change and grow. And if they are a visionary with an incomplete masterpiece sleeping within, then perhaps it is merely waiting to be unlocked by another pony's creation which they wish to pay homage to. When a fashionista like myself, or any artist across any medium, is inspired by somepony else and we create in response to them, we are engaging in a kind of perpetual conversation. All of our ideas combine to form beauty.”
As she finished, she suddenly realized that her lopsided guest was reclining in an ornate, plush armchair and dressed in a burgundy smoking jacket made of crushed velvet. He blew a small flurry of bubbles from his pipe as he looked at her intently. At length, he said, “Careful, lest we wade into the infinitely deep bog that is philosophy. However, I think I see what you're getting at. To you, the current state of any art form is a culmination of everything that came before, sometimes doubling back or overlapping itself. To be remembered isn't an individual thing; it's nudging the whole in a new direction.”
“Quite right!” Rarity said triumphantly.
“That does still leave me at a loss insofar as why you consider fashion an art form that actually benefits from these kind of tiny contributions.”
Rarity felt her face twitch as she bottled her frustration and anger up to release later. “Why, wasn't that the entire point of this conversation?”
“I've sort of lost track,” Discord said with a shrug. “But since we're on the subject...” The spirit of chaos and disharmony sent the chair, pipe and jacket away, replacing them with an absurd outfit comprised of objects found in a typical, household kitchen. To make matters worse, the outfit had clearly been designed for a mare and was both jarringly effeminate and much too small on Discord.
“Now, I may not be an expert on fashion or art, but this is some real cutting edge stuff.” He pointed out while striking a runway pose. “I suppose repurposing everyday items as clothes counts as taking inspiration from somepony else's work, making it derivative in a sense, but you have to admit that it's creative. Unless I'm mistaken, you started this little craze during Fashion Week in Manehatten, didn't you?”
“Yes, I-”
“You won the contest you entered your 'Hotel Chic' in, for that matter.”
“Well, yes-”
“So, it's clear that ponies prefer the novelty of entirely new ideas over, say, the kind of painstaking effort and technical skill of producing an entirely new, aesthetically pleasing and functionally practical fabric like the runner-up managed to do. Curry Poloshirt, or whoever.”
Rarity literally bit her tongue in an effort to not blow up in Discord's face. Discord, on the other paw/claw/hoof, was running his tongue around his asymmetrical fang as he relished the look on the fashionable pony's face. She was turning red through her pure-as-the-driven-snow coat and her snout had scrunched up in that way ponies do whenever they're holding something back. He wondered if she would even bother trying to lay claim to her pilfered product, or if she was seething over the insinuation that she had wasted her talents developing it in the first place.
Rarity managed to force a smile, though she was still glaring daggers. “Well, I'm just so... happy to have inspired a new movement-”
“You mean trend.”
“After all, it's very flattering when so many ponies want to emulate one's style.”
“I'm sorry, are we referring to the same ponies jumping on the latest band-wagon?”
“In time, this will hopefully cause fashion designers to broaden their horizons and consider new possibilities.”
“Giving them new and exciting venues for turning the mundane into the hilarious. I think I finally understand. When history looks back on this period and tries it's best to glean information about forgotten Equestrian culture from our clothing, they'll remember you for showing ponies that literally anything can be fashionable if presented in the right light, regardless of how idiotically impractical or ridiculous. Not at all like Sherry Whatsherface who will be forgotten alongside the countless ponies who made textiles, dyes, patterns and all other manner of boring commonplace things that are the unappreciated cornerstones of the clothing industry.”
“You horrible monster!” Rarity finally snapped. “Do you have any idea how long it took to make that fabric!? It works on everything! It's revolutionary! It's stylish and comfortable and was supposed to leave a lasting impression!”
“And you, being the creative artist you are, were able to overshadow it and cause it to fall by the wayside using an idea you came up with in a day. Less than that. A fabric is a fabric, but a new idea is something else entirely. New, however, is a fleeting thing. Which is exactly why being remembered is important: if nopony remembered it, how could they avoid repeating themselves?”
“What?” Rarity panted, feeling physically and emotionally drained from her outburst.
“It makes perfect sense to me now. A 'new' idea is only yours if you came up with it first. And, if you can't attribute a name to an idea, then nopony had it before, therefore it's new and yours to do with as you like.”
“That doesn't make sense,” Rarity pouted. “What are you getting at?”
“Take Applejack for example. She and her whole family have been growing, picking and selling apples and apple products for generations. Nopony can say anypony was doing it before the apples were, and they've been doing it the same way for – well, forever as far as we're concerned. If anypony had a new way of doing it, they've have tried it by now.”
“They have,” Rarity muttered to herself, remembering a couple of slick, fast-talking brothers.
“My point is, they're working directly from nature, there's no room to be derivative or creative. Fashion, on the other hand – er, hoof – is always changing, but why? It's because it easy to take somepony's idea and change it just a little, and then a little bit more, and then a lot more, until you have a completely different idea. Ponies who have ideas that don't look at all like the one's that came before are the most successful! That's where 'cutting edge' comes from. It's why your new line outshined the competitors and why none of the knock-off copies are selling nearly as well. It's also why neo-everything is popular: nopony can remember what those old styles were like or who came up with them. Everything in fashion has to be brand new, then it gets buried under newer ideas, and eventually dug up again, once everypony has forgotten them.”
Rarity wanted to argue, to tell Discord that ideas – good ideas – aren't just tossed aside once something else comes along. She wanted to disprove the notion that the best ideas are “dug up” after the pony who had them is long gone and forgotten; that somepony else can just lay claim to them, like a treasure hunter robbing graves. The problem was that she didn't know what to say. For some reason, Discord's nonsense seemed to actually... make sense.
“I think I'm starting to get a sense for all this... status quo ponies love so much,” Discord mused to himself. “Keeping things moving in one direction is just how you keep doing new things and not just going in circles. Although, sometimes you go around and around anyway. Well, at least I know for certain that ponies respond well to the new and unexpected as long as it doesn't overwhelm them. Maybe just a little chaos now and then isn't so bad, at least compared to none.” He continued rambling to nopony as he lackadaisically floated out the window, leaving Rarity alone.
Rarity had been brimming with inspiration just before Discord arrived that morning. Now she felt drained. She returned to the Neo-Classical design she had been working on. It was nearly finished; she had been quite happy with it earlier and was ironing out some alternative details. Now when she looked at it, the design seemed tired and contrived. It wasn't anything more than a rehash of a style that had been originally created out of necessity and augmented by vanity. Long ago, the clothes had served a vital purpose. Now they appeared to be out of place, stolen from where they belonged, and the gemstones she had added to the outfit (to give it a modern twist with some of her own personality) looked gaudy and tacked on. She crumpled up the paper and threw it away. Rarity stared into the fresh, blank paper in front of her, futilely willing herself to come up with a more original fashion.
She was so absorbed in her frustration that even with her critical attention to detail, she couldn't possibly have seen her cutie mark turning one lighter shade after another.