No Recipe For Perfection

by Cloudy Skies


Chapter 1

The pre-noon light reflected off the dress, and all Rarity could think was that it looked dull. There was nothing wrong with the fabric, of course; it was imported cream-colored satin of the highest quality. There was nothing wrong with the light itself either. At least, now that she’d cleaned the windows, she was sure of that too. Rarity took a step back and tilted her head, placing herself dead center in her studio.

No, it was much simpler than that. It was dull and uninspired because it was dead. For all that her mannequins were many and varied, they simply weren’t ponies. This late in the design process, she’d usually call upon somepony to model for her, to try out the dress on one of her friends. More often than not, that pony was Fluttershy.

Rarity poked her cheek with her tongue and reached up to adjust her glasses. If only Fluttershy hadn’t headed off to Cloudsdale for the weekend. She couldn’t very well fault her friend for attending her mother’s birthday, but it all left her in quite the bind, because the first alternative that sprang to mind was decidedly more stressful.

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity called.

“Yes, sis?” a squeaky voice immediately replied from the main room.

“Are you quite done with your homework?” Rarity asked, poking her head out from her studio. Her sister lay on the floor, head buried in some book or other.

“Um, almost? Can’t I do the rest tomorrow? Pleeease? I promised Scootaloo and Apple Bloom I’d meet them by the clubhouse, and it’s already getting late.” Sweetie pouted over the rim of the book.

“If you’re back in time for supper,” Rarity agreed with a smile. “That is, if you can be a dear and head by Rainbow Dash’s house and tell her I need to see her. Could you do that for me?”

“Sure!” Sweetie Belle beamed, bouncing up on all fours, but halfway to the door the little unicorn filly screeched to a halt. “Wait, Rainbow Dash? Scootaloo said she went with Fluttershy to Cloudsdale because she needed to—”

“To visit the weather office before season’s end, yes, she told me, I remember now,” Rarity finished for her, frowning. “That’s just as well, her colour would be a terrible fit, and she keeps complaining. Always with the complaining,” she muttered. “‘Rarity, I’m bored, Rarity, I’ve been standing still for three hours and you’re being quiet’.”

“Um,” Sweetie Belle offered.

Rainbow Dash was hard enough to lure into modelling, and harder yet to keep still, but who else could she call upon? Applejack was always up for helping a friend in need, but her busy schedule meant she sometimes needed advance warning for things she considered “unimportant” compared to her farm work. Rarity huffed. Twilight could probably be roped into assisting, but the purple mare wasn’t quite the body type she needed for the dress she was designing. Perfection was never a choice. It was necessity.

Rarity gave a small sigh as she realized this left her with precious few options. She already felt a headache building, though she couldn’t hold back a small smile, either. “Never mind Rainbow Dash then. Scootaloo lives near Sugarcube Corner, does she not?”


“We should totally do this again sometime!” Pinkie suggested.

“Pinkie Pie, darling, we haven’t ‘done’ anything yet,” Rarity said. “But all the same, thank you for coming on such short notice,” she added, leading Pinkie through her studio. The room always seemed twice as cluttered in the presence of another; each of Rarity’s hoofsteps were made with expert precision, picking her way between discarded bolts of cloth and patterns she’d thrown away but might yet need. Finally, she directed her friend to the small platform in front of the grand windows.

“Aw, but sometimes that’s the best part, just like the day before your birthday.” Pinkie giggled as she watched the fabric swirl around her. Rarity offered her a smile while her horn glowed, draping the satin around her form and nodding appreciatively as it settled just so on her flank.

“If you say so, dear. Now please, do hold still.” Rarity bit her tongue as she focused intently on fitting together the pieces she’d planned. Everything from croupon to lapel lined up perfectly on the pink mare’s body.

“Perfect,” Rarity murmured. “I think this looks even better on you than it would on Fluttershy, and at this point I believe I design half my dresses with her in mind because of how helpful she’s being.”

“Aw. Thanks,” Pinkie said, beaming.

“For what?” Rarity raised a brow.

“You said something nice! And when ponies say nice things, you say ‘thank you’,” Pinkie retorted, tilting her head a perfect ninety degrees. Rarity hurried to right the fabric where it had shifted.

“I also said hold still,” Rarity sighed. “And yes, I suppose you’re quite welcome, though I meant only how the dress sits on you. That said, you make for a far better model than I had expected,” she added, trotting over to magic open a drawer in search of her scissors.

“Thanks again!” Pinkie giggled, bouncing on the spot as much as she could without lifting her hooves off the ground.

“Thank me by standing still. I’d take it back, but the frightening part is that you still have a few somersaults to go before you’re as bad as Rainbow Dash,” Rarity retorted, levitating over all the tools of her trade. Scissors and pins, needle and thread, measuring tape and more besides all moved at her command as she advanced upon the earth pony. Now, she had her model. Now, she could work.

Time stretched, shrank or whatever else it did when Rarity plied her trade. The world around her slowly faded, giving way to fabric and shape. For the longest time, Pinkie Pie did as asked; it was almost strange to see her stand so very still other than the occasional and understandable sneeze or scratch, and the less occasional and far less understandable bounce or twirl. Some allowances had to be made for eccentricities at any rate.

Slowly the dress took shape. Edges were trimmed and curves were checked. Borders were inspected and neatened. Before long—or perhaps it had been long, it was impossible to tell—Rarity drew back and inspected her work.

Only to find herself unable to hold back a sigh, her brow creased in a deep frown. She was no stranger to zoning out, to lose touch with trivialities in favor of the perfect creation; it was just so very unfamiliar to come to again and discover she wasn’t at all satisfied with what she saw. Rarity reached up to nudge her glasses, but suddenly, even they wouldn’t lie right. She casually deposited them on the nearby workbench with a glimmer of magic.

“Oh no. Why are you sighing?” Pinkie asked, pouting. “Am I bad at this? I’m sure I can stand even more still! I can be the statue-est pony ever! Or maybe you need a song? I’m even better at that. I can make you a song about clothes. Listen; If you’re feeling—

“No, no, not at all,” Rarity broke her off. “You’re fine.”

“That’s three! Thanks!” Pinkie gave a short-lived smile. “But you’re not happy. That’s wrong,” she concluded, leaning a little closer as if though her stare could bore into Rarity and force her to smile with her.

“Yes. Well, there’s precious little you can do about that, I fear,” Rarity replied, waving a leg. “Perhaps it’s just difficult to vary it up. Fall is coming to an end, and, ah, there is only so much you can do within the same season. Fluttershy usually has some fresh ideas, but I find myself asking her opinion more and more, and relying less on my own, these days.”

Rarity levitated over a bolt of yellow silk as she thought, for no reason other than to be doing something. Once she’d picked it up, she couldn’t quite decide where to put it. It wouldn’t match the shade of blue dominated by the half-finished dress over there, nor would it feel right to put it—

“Why don’t you just skip the icky tight collar and maybe make some fancy-awesome super-sweet cuts on the flank? Let some air in!” Pinkie suggested, poking at the dress.

Rarity gave her friend a wan smile and put the silk down where she’d found it, shaking her head. “I appreciate that you wish to help, truly, but that’s not, ah, a workable angle,” she muttered, surrounding the dress she’d made with her light blue magic, slowly working it over Pinkie’s head.

Pinkie Pie waited patiently for Rarity to undress her, giving her legs an experimental little bounce once free. She gave Rarity a big, bright smile.

“Okie-dokie-lokie,” she giggled, trotting after the hovering dress and stopping in front of the mannequin where Rarity left it. “How about adding—”

“Please, don’t worry about it, dear,” Rarity said, turning away from the dress that she was quite frankly rapidly tiring of. She wasted no time in making for the door to the main room. “Tell me, how are the Cakes? And the foals?” she asked, leading the way out.

“Oh, they’re all doing great!” Pinkie beamed, bouncing in the unicorn’s wake, no doubt thrilled to be moving again. “Well, mostly. Mr. Cake is a little annoyed that I maybe tried to use the taffy machine for a bubble bath again, and Mrs. Cake did that little thing where she sighs and rolls her eyes when I ruined the oven, also again.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, that hardly sounds like they’re doing ‘great’ to me,” Rarity retorted.

“Maybe not, but they were very happy when I said I was heading out for a bit,” Pinkie said. “Thanks again for having me over!”


Again, the shop was silent. Rarity stood by the window and watched Pinkie Pie bounding down the street, heading for her own home. The afternoon had gone well enough. At least, the Pinkie Pie part of it had. It wasn’t as if though they weren’t fast friends, but if she’d been leery of trying to get Pinkie to model for her alone, she was glad those worries had been unfounded. The sun was low on the horizon, and she almost missed the near-constant stream of chatter already for lack of anything else to do.

She should of course give the dress a second look and see what else she could do for it, but the idea simply didn’t appeal. The unicorn trotted over to the threshold of her studio and gave the glimmering satin a brief look. If she had any sense, she’d leap at the chance to sneak in another fashion line in the late fall market, but instead, all she could think to do was to bury her snout in a good book or take a long bath. It had been like that a lot, lately.

What was it Pinkie Pie had said? Remove the collar entirely? Expose the flank? Rarity paused, halfway back out of the room. Despite herself, she retraced her steps and approached the mannequin that faced the setting sun. It would be the simplest of matters, and it hardly mattered for a line that would probably never leave Ponyville. Maybe Pinkie Pie would appreciate it. If nothing else, it would make for an interesting anecdote the next time she had cause to discuss fashion with her peers.

With a mental shrug, Rarity scratched at her forehead and picked up the scissors. It was the work of minutes to remove some of the fabric on the flank, and the collar came off easily.

“Well, that’s certainly... different,” Rarity murmured, gently depositing the surplus fabric on a free bench. She gave her newest creation a skeptical glance and magicked it off the mannequin, following it into the main room. She was just trying to find it a likely spot in the “new” section when Sweetie Belle entered, today with a blessed minimum of tree sap in her coat.

“There you are. I was just about to start dinner,” Rarity commented, folding the dress up. “Carrot soup, perhaps?”

“Okay!” Sweetie agreed, beaming. “Oh. What’s that? I haven’t seen that dress before.”

“Yes, well, it’s a new creation of mine, I suppose,” Rarity replied, shrugging as she made for the kitchen. “Come now. Do you think you can handle cutting the carrots?”

“Of course!” Sweetie Belle affirmed.

“Without making the pieces too large or too small—”

“But ‘just right’, yes, sis.” Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes and gave her a knowing glance. Rarity smiled back, the two sisters giggling as they made for the kitchen.


“Alright, one dress of that design done in mauve, with the normal modifications made to allow for wings,” Rarity agreed, scribbling on her little notepad.

“Uh, no, I said magenta,” the white pegasus mare retorted.

“Trust me, mauve is a much better fit for you. I’ll have it done in two days,” Rarity concluded, smiling. Her customer opened her mouth as if to protest, but evidently thought better of it, flashing a smile in return as she made for the door. The bell jingled with her departure, marking the exit of her eighth customer before noon.

Of which, seven had eventually settled for her newest creation.

Granted, it was the first Monday of the month. The weather schedule was slowly shifting into gear for winter, and ponies in the know usually flocked to Carousel Boutique before the snow started falling. It was common knowledge that Rarity would be looking to use the last of her thinner pre-winter fabrics, so it wasn’t all that surprising.

Except she was kidding herself. Rarity ran a hoof along the display dress she’d made only just yesterday. If the design truly caught on, the sales would only go up from this point and on. Most of her visitors today had been the regulars who visited mostly to chat. Junebug in particular almost never bought anything, but in idly browsing she’d been taken with the dress.

Rarity frowned. Why wasn’t she happy with it? She knew half of the answer. Since she landed all the big Canterlot contracts, the bits she made from shop sales were trivial. It was still her life and her favorite pastime, but the sales themselves were inconsequential.

Perhaps it was the fact that it wasn’t truly her own dress. It hadn’t been her own idea. Perhaps she’d have thought of it herself if she’d been having a better day? Rarity let the fabric fall back down, shaking her head. She only thought the decision to remove the collar a good one now that it had caught on. The airy take on the fabric on the flanks was a masterstroke only in hindsight, and it wasn’t hers.

Rarity snagged a random hat off of a bench and made for the door, flipping the “Open” sign around as she went. She thought perhaps she saw a hint of banana on her headwear, but it didn’t matter which hat it was; she’d make it fabulous by wearing it with conviction. Jaw set, Rarity strode down the streets of Ponyville aiming for the source of this little anomaly, of the crease in the fabric, the uneven cut.

If she attracted more looks than usual, then surely it was due to her determination and poise. She caught the flower sisters looking up from their conversation to stare after her and basked in the attention. Sure, she was in a bit of an artistic rut, but clearly it did not extend to her charisma. Rarity fluffed her mane and smiled to herself as she finally ascended to open the door to Sugarcube Corner.

The confectionary was deserted except for one pony. Luckily, the pony present behind the registry of the storefront was the mare Rarity wanted to see.

“Oh, hi Rarity!” Pinkie called, glancing over at the top of her head before tilting her own, giggling. “Thanks, but I just ate.”

“Excuse me?” Rarity asked, blinking as she approached.

“Aren’t you bringing me lunch?” Pinkie retorted. She leaned over the counter, snatching an orange from her hat.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rarity scoffed, but once plucked, Pinkie set upon it with deft hooves, peeling the fruit whilst the unicorn watched, her conviction fading bit by bit. “No, that’s plastic. This is a, huh. It’s, ah. Well.”

Rarity paused, levitating her ‘hat’ off of her head. It certainly looked like something she made a week back, but a gentle tap of her hooves confirmed that the fruit bowl was, in fact, a fruit bowl in hard wood. It had been rather uncomfortable, in hindsight.

“Maybe I am, then. Pardon,” Rarity amended.

“You’re the best,” Pinkie said amidst messy mouthfuls of orange. “If you’re looking for the Cakes that you can’t eat, they’re just out on an errand, but the proud ship Sugarcube Corner is safe with me!”

“Actually, I was looking for you,” Rarity chuckled, putting the bowl down on the counter.

“That makes a lot more sense,” Pinkie agreed, nodding. “You almost never come to buy sweets, except late on Saturdays when you think nopony you know notices when you buy two extra huge boxes of fudge and wow, I don’t know where those go, but they don’t go to your flanks, I’ll tell you that!”

Rarity stared, trying to wrap her head around what she had been told. Or had heard. Possibly witnessed. At length, she merely shook her head. “Right. No, it’s about the dress you made.”

“The dress I made? You mean the dress you made, silly!” Pinkie protested, licking her lips and wiping the counter with a foreleg.

“It would have been but I, ah, took your concerns and feedback into consideration and decided to make some modifications,” Rarity admitted. As she’d predicted, Pinkie Pie beamed.

“That’s wonderrific! How’d it all go? I don’t really remember what I said, but I’m sure it was great,” she declared.

“Yes, well, I’m no stranger to flighty muses,” Rarity continued through a furrowed brow. “What gave you the idea though? A lighter design?”

“Huh?” Pinkie asked, blinking.

“I’m just wondering what your logic was, is all,” Rarity added, though Pinkie’s increasing confusion played well together with the alarm bells that went off in her head when she used the dreaded L-word on Pinkie. Rarity sighed. “You actually have none, am I right? It was spur of the moment and nothing more?”

“Oh, no, I just thought it’d make me happy, because, um, it’d be nice, I guess? Collars are super iffy, but that’s it,” Pinkie shrugged.

“Right. My mistake. I was just hoping for some, ah, inspiration,” Rarity murmured, turning on the spot. “Thank you again for your help.”

“Inspiration?” Pinkie echoed when Rarity was half-way to the door.

“I guess it’s not as important when one makes sweets and throws parties,” Rarity huffed.

The last few steps to the door were strangely quiet. It was remarkable how, even when Pinkie said nothing at all, her presence filled the room and created a different kind of noise. An energy that was at best both delightful and invigorating, and at worst, exhausting. Now, there was none of that. Pausing before the door, Rarity turned to look over her flank, wondering if she had said something truly wrong. Pinkie Pie was looking at her with a puzzled frown.

“Yeah it is,” Pinkie finally said, matter-of-factly. “It totally is.”

Rarity cleared her throat. “I did not mean to diminish your work, Pinkie, please don’t misunderstand. You know I have the utmost respect—”

“I think of new pastries every day,” Pinkie interrupted her, holding up a hoof and tapping it with the other, leaning on the counter. “Whenever I plan a party, they need a theme and a layout, and other things besides, not to mention I need to try to keep it fresh with every party! Now that’s a doozy! I mean, come on, I’ve probably thrown three parties for every pony in Ponyville!”

“I didn’t—” Rarity tried, dropping her gaze.

“And then there’s the entertainment! Oh wow, you would not believe how many different things ponies like, and I need games and things that every pony likes, and it’s not like that’s simple either! You think it’s like, hey, Rainbow Dash likes to fly so I can just have something flying-y, right? Nopey-dopey! I need to think of what ponies want before they want them!”

“Please,” Rarity cut in, swallowing audibly. “I’m sorry, Pinkie Pie. I did not in any way mean to imply I think you have it easy, please don’t think that.”

Pinkie Pie bounced over the counter, hopping over to give her a brief hug around the neck. “It’s okay, I didn’t, but thanks!”

Rarity hugged back tightly before she let go of Pinkie. Perhaps her friend was hard to offend, a mercy unto itself, but she couldn’t quite forgive herself for failing to draw the lines. Just because Pinkie Pie made party planning and cooking and whatever else it was she did look easy, that didn’t mean it was.

“At any rate,” Rarity said, clearing her throat. “If this is the case, then perhaps you understand my quandary. Inspiration, it waxes and wanes, right?” she concluded with a tight smile, once more turning and making for the door.

“Nope!” Pinkie said.

Rarity hung her head, biting the inside of her cheek. Part of her wanted to be done with it and return to her boutique. Then again, for what? To pace her studio and get nothing done? Against her better judgment, Rarity turned yet again to look at Pinkie’s unbroken smile.

“No?” Rarity asked.

“I just do what makes me happy,” Pinkie explained, lowering her voice as if though she were imparting some great secret. “That’s all there’s to it. If I’m not happy, then I need to get happy again, then I can do more things! I don’t use wax, and I don’t even own a weather-vane.”

“I see. Very helpful,” Rarity murmured, humoring her. She leaned forward to touch her forehead to Pinkie’s. “I really ought to be going. Ah, but first.”

“Yes?”

“What do you have for fudge today?”