It was up to me to make my father look as fabulous as he could be. Since I was known throughout Equestria as Rarity Belle, the Fashionista with flair, I would be expected to make Honda Flanks the talk of the town.
To this end, for what was to come, I chose a cellulose fabric. Hemp would also be suitable. Since his suit was to be only black and white, finding the right colors was easy. The hard part would be to get father’s measurements.
To that end, I asked my mother, Cookie Crumbles, to help. We met at my parent’s house to save time. I only had a few days to make sure Hondo looked his very best.
Mother hugged me as I stepped into her foyer. “Hello, dear. Would you like to eat before we begin?”
“No, thanks,” I replied with a polite smile. “It’s hard to even think of food when I’m working.”
Nodding, Mother replied, “Well, then let’s get to it. He’s in his study.”
Since Cookie’s fur was purple, I obviously got my white coat from my father. I peered at his light brown mustache while I pulled out my measuring tape. “Ah, you trimmed the rough spots.”
“I’m glad you noticed. It might have annoyed him, but I used a ruler to make sure the trim lines were perfect.”
“A gentlecolt if there ever was one,” I said with a knowing smile. “With more patience to give than anypony I’ve ever known.”
Mother helped him straighten up for the back and shoulder measurements. “Generous to a fault. That’s mostly likely where you got your generosity habit from.”
Father’s forelegs spread out as I laid the tape measure from shoulder to hoof. “It’s a pity that fashion is something that only you and I seem to have a firm grasp of.”
She blushed a little. “Well, I only understand that there’s no limit to sequins or gems when it comes to dresses. Beyond that, I’m only confident in sewing the occasional shawl or socks.”
After I got the length of his collar written down, I remarked, “That’s where I first got my fashion-making skills from.” I shrugged. “Well, not right away.”
Chuckling, Mother said, “Well, let’s not let that distract you. Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, I have all the measurements,” I replied as I slipped the notebook into my saddlebag. “I’ll have everything ready for him by noon tomorrow.”
Mother waved goodbye as I trotted out of the room, my heart thumping as I recalled my promise. Noon. Can’t dally.
I found myself running into a full gallop before long. When I got to my boutique, I locked the door and flipped the store sign to the ‘closed’ position. Picking up the rolls of black cellulose and white hemp with my magic, I briskly trotted up to my inspiration room.
My heavy breathing from my long run had finally subsided, but I was so engrossed in getting started with the piece cutting, I didn’t notice the sweat dripping onto the black sheets. With wide eyes, I briskly wiped off the drops. Mustn’t let the material fall apart now. Not when there’s so much to be done!
My hooves were shaking as if I had far too much coffee. I was always like this when there wasn’t enough time. (Never enough time! Ever!) Closing my eyes, I tried to recall Father’s advice whenever I stressed too much about my work.
“Take a few deep breaths, bug,” He would implore me. Not even Sweetie Belle knows about that fillyhood nick name. “Don’t think of the journey, think of the destination.”
I still recall my younger self whining, “Daddy, I have so much to do! My sewing machine keeps bunching up the fabric, I keep snapping my threads, I . . .”
Gently planting a hoof over my muzzle, he smiled and nuzzled my mane. “Shh. Breath, Rarity. Piece by piece. Thread by thread. Remember?”
I remembered, all right. That was the mantra we came up with together that helped me focus whenever I made clothing.
Deep breaths. (Inhale) One step at a time. (Exhale) One piece at a time. (Inhale) Until the job is done right. (Exhale) Until the destination is reached.
My hooves had stopped shaking and my composure returned. Thanks, Daddy.
Let’s see. He was to have a standard thin black tie, black suit jacket and a white pressed shirt. No problem.
With steady hooves and calmly applied magic, I used all of my skills to put together the very best suit any colt would be proud to wear. Fit for royalty, if I do say so myself. Every piece perfectly measured, every stitch exactly where it should be. It took four hours to make the suit, but it only felt like four minutes.
Carefully dressing the mannequin with Hondo’s suit (the materials were the most delicate I’ve ever used), I stepped back to admire my work. I felt a steady, level calm, the day’s stress a distant memory. I lived for these moments. It’s only when I’m creating something that the world at least appears to make sense, when everything is as it should be.
Enjoy the ride, Father once advised me. For your life can take you to unexpected places. No argument there.
* * *
A few days later, Mother and I met at the event. Hondo had made a lot of friends over the years, just as I have. Hundreds of ponies, as well as a few griffons, had shown up. The buffet was well stocked for both species. Nothing but the best for Father.
Rainbow hugged me. “Your dad looks really awesome, Rares. Like a million bits tax-free.”
“Thanks, Rainbow.”
Twilight patted me on the shoulder. “You did a great job with his suit.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
After everyone dined from the buffet, they gravitated to the seats in front of the podium. Mother and I draped our forelegs over each other’s shoulders as we admired my handiwork.
“It must have been difficult to get that much work done in so short a time,” remarked Mother. “I hope you weren’t too stressed out.”
Smiling sweetly, I said, “I did have a bit of a flare-up, but I just kept in mind Father’s breathing technique and work advice. Once I started working, I was all right. His lessons are never that far from me.”
Cookie rubbed her cheek against mine. “He’s never that distant from any of us. Take your seat, dear. It’s time to begin.”
I nodded and sat quietly, seldom looking away from him.
Mother loudly cleared her throat and waved the stragglers over. When everyone was seated, she stepped up behind the podium, put on her best smile and began my father’s funeral.
* * *
“Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do.
Make good art.”---Neil Gaiman