The wardrobe is a daunting task, sometimes.
You've not much an eye for how things look, and you worry a lot about your appearance, especially with your parents harping on you about it so often...
A soft, sultry voice whispers in your mind, a gentle echo, pointing you in the right directions...
Shirt after shirt, passing through garments as the voice echoes and rises in volume, the roots of your hair gleaming with shine and immaculate care, the small of your back gently beginning to fuzz...
She guides your hands, matching color to color, mixing in dazzling splashed of contrast and glittering jewelry to make your eyes really quite shine darling~
Her hoof guides more and more, slipping into your hands as a soft tension builds in your forehead, a slow spiraling horn beginning to push outward...
her voice, your voice, is louder and clearer now with it in place, shirts turning to saddles and pants into tail-slip dresses...
You flit between a dozen odd accoutrements and raiments, each more dazzling than the last as your hooves pass between them, feeling their texture, their weight, breathability...
Your soft white fur gleams as you match fabrics against it's color, eagerly pushing for a more perfect complement...
Onyx? No, too oily, perhaps a nice chartreuse color...
ooh, that turns the thoughts to wine, to soirees and galas you'll attend, oh the dresses you'll need for those...
Your eyes dart to the sewing machine in your corner... Perfect.
Running textile and thread through patterns and weaves, layering cloth in delicate ruffles, jewel tones and pastels whirling about to contrast and compliment one another, hard work for a wonderful result.
A daunting task is nothing for the creative mind.
Such is the art of the dress, of course~