Rarity closed the door to her boutique. Eternity stretched before her.
It was thrilling to look upon. Trends could change season to season, but true fashion was generational. She would be able to experience the refinement of her craft, see the classical fashions make way for new, incredible designs.
Rarity hesitated, looking at a ponyquin in an old-fashioned three piece suit. The design was already archaic, uncomfortable and stuffy, even through it was highly refined. Its presence in her shop was a statement of her technical ability, but she kept it far from the newer styles. It would be death to her profession to be seen as old, out of date, or obsolete.
"Oh no," she whispered. She summoned her fainting couch and collapsed upon it. There was a reason nopony interviewed Luna about modern fashions, after the temporally displaced princess had condemned a major designer as an affront to all decency. Canterlot gossip said that Celestia had spent several hours discussing the evolution of saddle design with her younger sister, particularly on their use by mares other than common harlots and whores.
Rarity sat bolt upright. "I'll be a designer for whores!" she wailed. She looked around at modern fashions, fashions which were bold, daring, politely suggestive. How would they be received by ponies in the future? Yes, it was a thought most designers of any lasting work would have but they didn't have to worry about living through it!
Tea. She needed tea. Tea and a trip to the spa. Aloe and Lotus always knew how to work out her "Princesses above I relax by the attentions of two unmarried mares!" she shrieked. Her hooves clutched her head and she tried to find a way out. Finally she elected to run into her room and hide under her bed until the eyes stopped watching her.
"...when did I turn into Fluttershy?" she asked, dismissing that plan quickly.
"Now breathe, darling. It's not like you don't do that sort of thing already." One room of Carousel Boutique was called the Black Room, and it was one of the few places in Ponyville the Crusaders had yet to investigate. Rarity had been clear to Sweetie Belle that she would not want a cutie mark inspired by that room, but one sews what one musts if one wishes to stay in business.
That was a good point, actually. She would always find a market for her hoofwork. Nopony would have her experience with old styles, and she was long accustomed to keeping up with changing fashion already. Her name would become old and respected, and she could charge a premium just to attach her name to the simplest of dresses.
"No." Rarity scowled at her own thoughts. Hers was a labor of love, her pay was the happiness in a customer's eyes. It was why she didn't maintain a staff or sell her designs to other houses. Her work was hers, a quality she could take pride in from start to finish. That was what it meant to own a Rarity. Quality, hoof-picked material and quality hornwork at a reasonable price. No matter what the future held, she would never sacrifice those principles. They would see her through anything.
"Come," she challenged the world. "Bring your storms and scandals, your follies and triumphs! Come, foal or nag, stallion or mare, sea serpent or changeling! Rarity is ready!"
One was Generosity, fickle and dramatic. She challenged panic with opportunity and turned all her works to face the world, a shield for her heart and a sword for her passions.