I thought it was a one time thing, you know? Well, not so much one time, but just for a few days. I figured that Manehatten would have its ups and down, but I later learned that you only saw them through the ponies you worked with, and only a few at a time. Fashionistas were by far the most lenient when it came to working standards, but everypony else just had nasty old venom in their belly that poisoned their hearts a little more each day the longer it stayed. At least those days are over. With the help of my new friends, and Miss Rarity’s generosity through business advice, fashion tips, and even a donation or two, I...well, I just can’t believe my eyes! My own sign, and my own fabulous fashion workshop, oh joy!
...okay, so it wasn't located in the most preferable of the places. Cabs hardly, if ever, ventured to this side of Manehatten so the only way to get one was to walk several tiring blocks all the way down the street to the market district. As if having to lug around an entire rack of full of dresses and subsequent saddlebags full of makeup wasn't hard enough.
Even then, the street my boutique was located on wasn't the most visited of places either. It was pretty much the pinnacle example of how a glamorous, high-end city like Manehatten could have its treacherous flip side; it was located on the edge of downtown, and we all know what that means.
Still, I persevered. No guts, no glory, right? The first month of business was an alright one. My work with Prim Hemline brought in the recognition I needed to fill orders, and my time formerly spent with Suri Polomare...did not.
D’oh, Suri was just a no-good gossiping jerk! She may have been forced to give up some ground with her loss at last year’s fashion competition, but she was back on her hooves in a matter of days, going by this city’s painfully-learned code of misconduct and turning my new life as an independent designer into a living nightmare. I swore that goody two-shoes would get a taste of her own medicine someday.
But aren't bells just the cutest little instrument around? Especially the little ones that jingle and jangle with every little move you make, and their brass and silver coloration contrasted extremely well with soft colors. Why, I might just try integrating them into my next line as soon as I’m ready--
Wait, was that what I was thinking? Something must have gotten mixed in with my memoirs. What was I doing thinking about bells all of a sudden?
“Yoohoo~! Miss Pommel, darling~!” trilled the voice of a very special customer while the bell that sat on the edge of my countertop rang like a cuckoo clock gone mad. I hated when that ringing became so loud that it hurt my ears. Maybe all those months of getting yelled at by Suri took a toll on my eardrums.
“Nnch...Rarity!” I yelled, quick to slam a hoof down onto the silver bell and put an end to the racket. I started rubbing one of my temples while dragging the bell behind the counter (and making a mental note to dispose of it later). When that was taken care of, I looked up to the newcomer with smile on my face and a much-needed warmth in my heart. “A little more...patience next time, please?”
“Oh, but of course, Coco dear. My apologies,” replied Rarity with an apologetic grin standing on the other end of the counter and looking as fabulous as ever. She carried short bolts of fabric in saddlebags on her back in many assortments of patterns as well as the supplies to sew them into blue ribbon outfits ripe for the judging. “I was just out in the big city for a spell and wanted to see how my favorite competitor was doing, is all! And I just adore your sign over the door outside. It fuses so well with the colors of your mane. Gives the customer something more to look at when they first walk in, yes?”
Golly, I hardly ever noticed it, but Rarity’s visits always made me feel so distinguished. She had years more of experience under her belt while I still had a lot left to learn. She was my rock and the centerpiece of inspiration for nearly all of my designs. Included with her talent was the luxury of time to actually come up with all these neat ideas and techniques. Of course, I wasn't so fortunate, but until I could come up with my own innovations I was stuck trying to find room to wiggle in this broom closet they call 'creativity'.
“I’m doing pretty fine, actually. Well, fine enough.” I manage a nervous chuckle whilst rubbing the back of my head. “This place isn't wholly what I had in mind, but I’m still working the kinks out of it.”
“Wonderful to hear, darling. Oh! I just remembered I brought you a little present.” said Rarity, glancing into her saddlebags and removing the bolts of fabric to access its pockets better. A present, from Rarity, and all for me? I was overjoyed that she would display such generosity, and at such a surprise. I beamed like a bunny in cab lights as Rarity withdrew a notepad from her bags and began flipping through its pages in search of something important.
“No, no, no, no...have I got the wrong notepad? Maybe it’s...aha!” said Rarity, levitating an orange slip of paper out from between the pages and passing it to me. It was a simple business card advertising a modeling agency with a listed operations center here in the big city on the third floor of one of those tall office buildings on Mane Street.
“Sabot Petite? A modeling firm?” I asked, shooting Rarity a quizzical glance.
“Why, yes, but it’s not what you think it is, darling,” replied Rarity. “I've been in business with them for about a year now, but lately they've been running a little low on reputable designer lines to model for, you see. I’d see to this myself, but I already have my hooves full with orders and a rambunctious little sister with two equally-troublesome friends.”
“Oh? What are you saying?”
Rarity giggled. “Oh, what wouldn’t I be saying, Coco? I want to see you take the job!”
“Me?” I thought I misheard her, but Rarity had made plenty of her past speeches as clear as day before, and she wasn't fond of having to repeat herself. Still, I was ready to leap out of my coat with joy and give Miss Rarity the biggest hug my hooves could constrict her with.
“I hope I didn't stutter,” Rarity replied, tending to her displeasure for repeating herself with a broaching frown, but none too quick to replace it with a smile. “But yes, you! They are both a busy and demanding company to partner with, but the payout is virtually guaranteed. Though, I suggest you hurry. They hold interviews for new blood only once every month, and the next opportunity happens to be in one week from now.”
“Just a week?” I asked, looking up from the card in surprise. Mistakenly, I hadn't realized I poked Rarity’s pet peeve, but she didn't seem to mind this time. “Oh...” I frowned, biting my lower lip in trepidation. “I don’t know...”
“Oh posh, Coco. I could throw together two new lines and a sweater to boot in that time span. Think of it as a way to test your ability to impress, and maybe test the threshold of your creative muscle. Besides, they don’t expect aspiring designers to have a full-blown line ready for the season anyway. Certainly not in a month. All you have to do is present a few examples to their board of directors and you’re on your way to the big leagues."
“And...that’s it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow thinking there was more to this gig.
“Err...not quite,” Rarity replied with her smile turned sheepish. As I said, this was Manehatten after all, and nothing in this place was without its flip side. “They are a tad too prestigious for their own good, in my honest opinion, but that apparently hasn't stopped scores of designers, both new and experienced, from trying their luck. You’ll be facing stiff competition, make no mistake. Unfortunately, there’s another sour note to this show. They know originality when they see it, and I mean it. If they detect even the slightest little hint of uncertainty in a fresh design, they’ll throw you out of their office as quick as a flash, got it?”
When those prerequisites were listed off I swear I could feel my heart skip a beat or two. They sounded so restricting and convoluted, as if they barely left any room for any real creativity in favor of the common pony of fashion to begin with. No wonder it was so difficult to get a contract with them; they let the design pool evaporate so quickly and helplessly that what few designers still flopping about for a chance at fame were forced to push it to the limit and then some just to find their inspiration. I didn't think it was healthy at all, but Rarity couldn't have been more in love with the idea.
“Goodness...this is gonna take some work, Rarity,” I said, nervously tugging at my collar. “I’m not even that experienced here, a-and with business like it is now I’m going to need to devote a lot more time than usual just to whip something up.”
“Nonono, darling!” Rarity was quick to reply, waving a dismissive hoof in the air at me in clear disapproval. “Don’t just ‘whip something up’ and hope that it will pass their judgement at first glance. I know it sounds like a lot of work to put together a work of art, but trust me.” She then reached forward and laid a hoof on my shoulder. “I know you. You’ll do just fine come the day of the interview.”
I smiled softly at her kind words. Her personality was just the right amount of lovable. I would have followed her to the ends of Equestria just to hear her wisdom on all things fabulous and ladylike. I wasn't too fond of that second part, though. Poise and social conduct may have been important to the high-life, but, at my level, all that mattered to me was being a good person. Your character is what defines you, and not by how intimidating you can look when you stare down those you consider beneath you.
“You don’t have to take this job, you know,” Rarity continued, patting my shoulder gently. “You can back out of it whenever you like if time constraints put your livelihood at risk. Still, should you choose to accept it, please..." Frankly, I wasn't expecting what came next, but there was little not to like about Rarity leaning forward and pulling me into a hug. “Make me proud.”
Make her proud... I mulled the words around in my head a little, though it didn't help me ease up on my worries. I was still just a dreamer, but at least I had something new to dream about, if I could even make it over the first hurdle of accepting the challenge. Regardless, I wanted to show my mentor that I was true designer material, see my name in shining lights in every major city in Equestria, and prove to the world that anypony can accomplish anything they set their mind to.
And my mind was set on her.
Rarity left after that, but not without another goodbye hug and farewell wishes of good fortune. I spent the rest of the night in my apartment above the store, laying wide awake on the pull-out bed of my sofa in the "everything" room of my two room living space. The place was a little under-furnished, and cramped at that. The radiator leaked scalding water onto the floor and hissed so loudly it scared me awake on occasion. Did I mention that money was a tad on the light side? Listen, you're either bathing in bits or scraping by from paycheck to paycheck in this city, but I guess the same can be said for plenty of other places too.
I needed to get some sleep. I wanted to, but I wasn't that tired an hour ago. I was way too nervous to sleep now knowing that I had, at best, four days to prepare clothing fit for only the most demanding of nobleponies outside of royalty. It would take me at least a day, if not more, to think up what I wanted. My brain during the thinking process was less of a storm and more of a wet sneeze from how drafty it got in here at times. Nevertheless, I had faith in my abilities. Not only because of Rarity's encouraging words, but because of a dream; a real dream, mine. Fresh out of university, my designs were scoffed at, so much so in fact that I held an assumption that the few that bought my fabric thought they were getting a good deal on embroidered dish towels. But ever since parting with Suri, I had been made anew, my old slate scrubbed clean, my collar pressed, and ready to dive right into a fresh start.
I was going into this battle of the backstitches armed with nothing but a spool of thread and an old pillowcase for all I cared! And nopony, I repeat, nopony was going to blame me for their wrongdoings, insult me outright, yank me along by my collar, and drag me down with their failed attempt at success ever again.
Honestly, did they have any idea how much it cost to dry clean a collar?