//------------------------------// // Yelp Review of Saddle Row: Three Out of Five Spoons // Story: Letters from an Irritated Princess // by Tired Old Man //------------------------------// Dear Twilight and friends, I’ve recently acquired a copy of the Daily Flugel in great anticipation of how Rarity’s new boutique opened up. Well, that and the latest Spider-mare pictures, which seemed unusually stale in this copy. Just a few pictures of her swinging around the city posing for glamour shots--bit boring, really. Now, I’ve thoroughly perused the review, and there’s a few things in here that are notably… discomforting. But before I get to that, I’ll start on a high note. Rarity, you took this like a champ. You hadn’t done much in the way of doing anything wrong, although doing things wrong likely wasn’t in your itinerary. And I know just how busy you were setting up your frontal displays. A first impression like that’s the most important part of a boutique, so you clearly had your hooves full of work there. Well done. Now, on to the rest of you. Twilight, I will say that your triple organization system is nothing short of genius that only your OCD mind could produce under pressure. You probably even drafted up a few handy checklists for Coco and her associates to use so your incredibly efficient system sees its fair use. However, when the dresses and outfits inevitably get sold and new fashions come in per Rarity’s new seasonal lines of clothing, they are not going to keep that kind of organization forever. How do I know this? Because I can stroll into Rarity’s boutique in Canterlot and see an arrangement on the racks best described as “flipped-turned upside down”. That’s what happens when you leave shopping ponies alone in a clothing store for less than five minutes. If there’s children, three minutes. Shopping ponies are always inclined toward discord, no matter how big or small. Given how busy that street is, your triple-check system is practically destined to crumble under the weight of grabby hooves with little sense to return things where they found them. Gods help those employees Rainbow Dash hired--they’re in for the long haul trying to keep up with your organizational prowess. I doubt they will, but they’ll adapt their own system in time to work for them. Whatever it takes to keep up with the masses of ponies shuffling through that door. Speaking of Rainbow Dash, I’m confused. Just very, very confused. You see, I thought you learned something important from the incident with the Wonderbolts not too long ago. But given your actions today, I really do wonder if you learned anything at all back at Wonderbolt Headquarters. Surely you figured out that behaving like your friends didn’t do anything to help you there. Thus, I’m having difficulty coming to terms with why you thought thinking like your friend would be a valid option here. It’s a real mind-boggler. I mean, you even fully admitted you didn’t know anything about fashion in the first place, so where did you get off thinking you could bullcrap your way through that hiring process in front of three reasonably experienced professional salesponies? You’re not a princess, Rainbow Dash--you’re a Wonderbolt. If anything, you should be more subtle instead of boldface lying. Now, I’m not saying your heart wasn’t in the right place. And even with this astounding misstep in the thinking process, you managed to turn things around for a benefit. But you, of all ponies here, should not have required this turnabout in the first place. Yet since this lesson apparently didn’t stick the first time around, I sincerely hope it sticks the second time. I do not want to get on your ass for this a third time. No, wait, correction: you don’t want me to get on your ass for this a third time. It just won’t be pretty for either of us, I can assure you that much. On to Appleblack. I’m not sure I have much to say to you, other than your treatment of a child’s ideas under the assumption of thinking Rarity is not interested in innovative ideas is nothing short of appalling. The mare is a fashion magnate specializing in designing unique clothing. She even made a fashion line out of a hotel room under pressure, but incorporating spoons? Apparently, no thanks. I admit it doesn’t exactly sound appealing to wear silverware--I shudder to think of fork porcupine hats and knife skirts--but that’s what refining a rough idea is meant to help with to avoid such nightmarish gowns and headpieces. Was Rarity in the proper mindset at the time she was asked to incorporate spoons and a door horn? Not with everything else going on, no. Maybe she could have used a copy or two of herself, which I would strongly advise against, but Rarity’s the type of girl to refine a rough diamond until it shines brightly. Maybe consider that first before you inject a blunt “no” in like you’re addressing your little sister. Pinkie, I… I guess I have nothing to say! Y-Yep! Nothing! Just… Just fine! Yes, but, um… didn’t we talk about all the clones being put back? I thought we covered that, but there’s another one here breathing down my nee-hee-eeck! No no, I wasn’t about to even try to talk about her turning part of Rarity’s boutique into a dance club! I’m sure that was all part of Rarity’s plans, even if… it wasn’t? Maybe it was something foreseeable in the near-future. And far future! Can’t forget tha-haat! My neck hairs aren’t bristling! They’re… excited? Excited! Completely ecstatic! A-Anyway, you just keep on keeping-on, Pinkie. Surely you’ve done no wrong this day! ...I-Is she gone? I think she’s gone. Haah… Okay. Back to business. Fluttershy, Fluttershy, you sit in an interesting spot. I, for one, earnestly believe Rarity would not tolerate a family of raccoons anywhere in her boutique. However, what bothers me is that’s an issue that should have been discussed with the landlord. Under reasonable circumstances, that doesn’t seem like a thing one could miss during a typical first inspection a pony takes when renting out a place so they’re not shafted with any undue repairs, unseen damages, or a family of squatting raccoons down on their luck. Heh, “reasonable circumstances”. I say that as if that’s a thing that happens normally these days. But I heartily praise your innovative thinking in incorporating them into the catering staff. Although that’s not the first thought that comes to mind when visiting a clothing boutique, nor is it a particularly sanitary option given those raccoons likely reeked of dumpster juice, sewer sludge and eau de coon. Although you did bathe them (hopefully you used a clothespin for your nose to avoid the smell), and their contribution is not to be overlooked. Who knows, it might inspire me to reconsider my stance on the pack of rats dwelling in one of my broom closets. This could go somewhere--I can feel it. Of course, they’re completely terrified of our birds, but I can work around that. Probably. That’s about it, but I do have one more thing for Rarity. Oh, and it’s for her eyes only, so no reading past this point for anypony besides Rarity, understand? I mean it! Rarity’s eyes only past this point, got it?! Rarity, I’ll be fair and honest. You got lucky. Very lucky. I know you read the review yourself by now, but I’m not sure if you have a grasp on exactly how lucky you are. Simply put, everypony could have screwed you over six-thousand ways from Sunday, and you wouldn’t have known how bad it was because they barricaded you with a chair. A chair! That alone merits at least a hundred “what if”s in regards to how badly they screwed the pooch by the time you first tried to leave. But bravo to you for somehow not worrying your head off on those after essentially being stuck in a small box for what must have been roughly a third to half a day doing nothing but swapping out clothes on marequins. That takes an extraordinary amount of patience and/or a ludicrous amount of blind faith in your friends doing the right thing without even a single ounce of guidance, vision, or really any general input from your ideal imagining of your boutique. I realize that’s the complete opposite of you cracking the whip the last time all of you visited Manehatten, but that doesn’t mean that this little-to-no direction option was the proper decision either. If your friends don’t know where you’re going, the decisions they make have more than enough potential to make things worse and steer away from your goal, regardless of however their approach may be. To that end, the next time you try something like this, don’t gamble on them knowing what you want and instead make your goals crystal clear to them before placing yourself in a spot where your friends can barricade you inside while they panic and try to fix things. It might just stop them from making assumptions (there’s that word again) about what you want and act with your best interest at heart with significantly lower chances of a disaster in the making. That said, congratulations on your truly miraculous grand opening. I hope your boutique runs splendidly, as it should with a non-ill Coco at the helm, and wish you the best of luck in keeping it running. No, really. After how lucky you were just for the opening, I do believe you need a lot more in the coming years. Best of all the luck, Princess Celestia P.S. You really need to teach Coco proper sneeze etiquette. I feel like it shouldn’t have to be explicitly stated that somepony shouldn’t sneeze uncovered into another pony’s face… twice. Turn your head, use your foreleg, position the tissue in advance! Haaaaaaangh… but here we are, and unfortunately, it must be said. Okay, what is that racket coming from the hallway?! ...You know what? I don't even want to know or compel myself to ask why you two are wearing what appears to be every piece of cookware in the kitchen except for the sink. Larping? Well then... what exactly is your goal, oh wayfaring adventurers? A monster to catch, is it? Hrmm... I think I just might have the perfect creature. A terrifying beast, one capable of sneaking up on a pony quieter than a mute mouse and able to swallow a whole pony in a single bite! Are you sure such a monster is something you can handle? Very well. Come close. Closer. Ow, too close. Now… have you ever heard of the Nineteen-Legged Pink Pest?