//------------------------------// // The Summer Sartorial Sensation, part 1 // Story: The Adventuring Type // by Cold in Gardez //------------------------------// It only took them a few minutes of wandering Fillydelphia’s packed streets to reach the Summer Sartorial Sensation. The crowds grew denser as they approached the heart of the garment district. Sweaty, naked ponies were slowly replaced by sweaty, clothed ponies, panting in the sweltering summer heat. At the corner of every block, the city had set up large tents that spanned the street, filled with troughs of cold water and spinning fans. Fashionably dressed mobs pulsed and swelled as those outside the tents pushed in toward the shade, while the refreshed and watered ponies inside struggled to escape. Rainbow pressed closer to Rarity’s side to make sure she didn’t lose the diva. Nutmeg trailed behind them both, keeping to the space they broke in the crowd. Through it all, Rarity offered a constant stream of commentary on the ponies around them. Rainbow Dash listened with only half an ear. “...a daring choice for a saddle. I’m not sure I would have gone with something quite so risque, but on the other hoof that plume she has on the cantle really does match the bow in her tail. Not something I’d wear around foals or teenage colts, perhaps, but it really does catch the eye, doesn’t it, darling? Now, that creme mare, the one with the powder blue…” Yup, still going. Rainbow Dash let her attention wander. Something tapped her side, and she glanced back to see Nutmeg pulling back his wing. He leaned in to press his muzzle against her mane. “I think we’re under-dressed,” he whispered. “Nah, we’re fine. Besides, I make this look good.” She fluffed her wings for effect. “Granted, but I’m not so blessed.” “Eh, you’re near me. That’s pretty fortunate.” Nutmeg was silent in reply. “...and, oh my, is that an off-the-shoulder Grace Felix design? I heard they were all the rage in Manehattan this Spring, but I never had the chance to snag one for myself. What do you think of it, darling? Would it look good on me? Her coat’s about the same as mine – not quite as white, of course. No, it’s more yellow, I think. Is her coat whiter than mine? No, that’s silly. Of course it isn’t. But still, that is a nice design, I’ll have to see if…” Rainbow Dash’s mind drifted again. A spot of color grabbed her eye, and she turned in time to see an earth pony mare piled high with drapes and folds and pleats of cloth in every color imaginable, all stacked atop her back and neck and shoulders and head like a tower of poor choices. She teetered with each step, and Dash couldn’t decide if the poor girl was simply transporting a dozen different designs, or somehow attempting to wear them. “...should really talk to her about those shoes. Iron, after the solstice? She just looks silly. I suppose I’m one to talk, though. Some years in Ponyville I don’t switch my shoes either. Nopony there cares. Oh, look, we’re here!”  Her voice took on a sing-song tone, and a spring entered her step as she led them toward the mass of ponies streaming through the Fillydelphia Convention Center’s doors. The inside was no less crowded than the streets outside, though the air conditioning was working at full blast. The sudden transition from the sodden, hammering heat outside to the cold interior was like flying through a snowstorm. Rainbow Dash looked up at the vents, half-expecting to see icicles hanging from them. “Ooh, that feels nice.” Rarity shivered daintily. “Now then, I’ll go get us registered while you two explore. Remember, look for ponies who are having friendship problems.” “What do those look like, anyway?” Nutmeg asked. “Well, you know.” Rarity paused with a small frown on her lips. “Screaming, usually. Or crying. And it’s usually mares. Actually, now that I think about it, every friendship problem in Fillydelphia has involved mares. I wonder why that is.” “Uh, maybe cuz there’s no stallions here?” Rainbow Dash ventured. “Nonsense, Rainbow Dash. The fashion industry is diverse and welcoming to all ponies, including stallions. Why, just look around! There’s, um… well, hm…” Rarity spun in a slow circle, her hoof on her chin. Around them, the crowd of mares pushed and jostled their way to and from the registration tables. Finally she stopped, pointing at their third member. “Why, Nutmeg’s a stallion! And I’m sure he feels quite welcome here. Don’t you, Nutmeg?” “I always feel welcome around you, Miss Rarity.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Okay, that’s so stupid I’m not even going to respond. How about we just walk around until our butts start to glow or something, and then we’ll figure out what to do.” Rarity sniffed. “So vulgar. Very well, then – if you don’t find anything, meet me back here in an hour. I’ll have our passes.” “Don’t we need those to get in?” Nutmeg asked. “Oh, you’re a stallion, darling.” Rarity waved a hoof absently. “Just tell them you lost it somewhere and smile. As for Rainbow… hm, tell them you’re modelling.” “I’m not modelling, Rarity.” “I know, I know. But you’ve got that look. They’ll believe you.” * * * They did believe her. The ‘security’ ponies, who actually appeared to be overweight weather team rejects, believed her so much they escorted both Rainbow Dash and Nutmeg past the entry lines and into the main hall. They smiled at her, smiled twice as long at Nutmeg, then drifted half-heartedly back to the lines they were supposed to be tending. “Huh,” Nutmeg said. “This is big.” “Yeah.” Rainbow Dash had to sit down to take in the vast space before them. The hall extended for hundreds of yards to their right and left. The ceiling was high enough that the Orithyia could have easily flown above the crowd with room to spare. Pegasus mares draped in flowing designs glided through the air, their wings beating easily as they soared on the thermals rising from the crowd below. “It will take a while to search all this,” he said. Rainbow Dash turned her attention to the convention floor. Huge partitions divided the space into segments, each apparently dedicated to some event or other, much in the manner of a three-ring circus. The chatter of ten-thousand mares (and, she assumed, a few stallions) was a constant, flowing babble. She raised her voice just to be heard. “Yeah, uh, we should probably stick together.” She paused. “Do you think I’ve got that look?” “I’m sorry?” “You know, like Rarity said. That modelling look.” “Oh! Well.” He paused as well, and gave her a more critical look than she was used to receiving from a stallion. “Since you ask, you are quite striking. Your mane, especially, is bound to draw attention. It’s a little… unstyled, at the moment, but that could be fixed.” “Hm.” She glanced up at her mane. Her forelock, as usual, was doing its best to dangle in her eyes. She blew it clear with an annoyed huff. “Yeah, well, I don’t care about any of that stuff. Not this mare! Now, let’s go find some trouble!” And so they ventured into the teeming chaos of the Summer Sartorial Sensation. * * * An hour later they wandered out. Nutmeg wore a stunned expression. Rainbow Dash’s eyes were glazed. “Why was she wearing the chair?” he mumbled. “I don’t—” Rainbow stopped, let out a long breath, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know. I think it was, like, a metaphor for a saddle? Does that make sense?” “I feel like everything I know about ponies is—” “Darlings! There you are!” They turned to see Rarity prancing toward them. “Good news! I was able to get us three-day passes, all for the price of a daily!” “How is that good news?” Rainbow Dash asked. “We’re supposed to find this problem as fast as possible, so we can get out of here.” “Yes yes, of course.” Rarity flicked her tail dismissively. “And I’m sure we will. But in case we can’t, these passes will make sure we can get in tomorrow. And the next day! Oh! Maybe we can come back, even if we do solve everything today!” “Yeah, no.” Rainbow frowned. “I’m a busy pony, you know. Right, Nutmeg?” “Huh?” Nutmeg blinked his way back to reality. “Oh, yes. We need to get back to the air soon.” “There, see? So let’s just go find this problem, fix it, and we can all get back to what we were doing.” The next ten minutes were a sullen affair, with Nutmeg still in a daze, Rainbow Dash slowly growing angrier with every incomprehensible display they passed, and Rarity being her usual passive-aggressive self. They passed dozens of booths and stands manned with the most gorgeous ponies in Equestria, all laden in the most absurd disasters of fashion Rainbow Dash could imagine. Half the ‘outfits’ weren’t even clothes! Ponies wore bits of building material, scraps of metal, mirrored panels, honest-to-Celestia armor, designs stolen straight from rugs, and even some things she couldn’t classify. If she ran into these models in the street (assuming they could even walk) she’d have called for the police. Rarity, apparently, disagreed. She’d resumed her stream-of-conscious narration, and paused occasionally to inspect displays that managed to snag her attention. They were, apparently, in the avant garde section of the show, with experimental fashions. Designs, Rarity insisted, that weren’t meant to be worn – they were pieces of art, they pushed the limits of what fashion could be. Soon enough (though not soon enough for Dash) they passed into another quadrant, and the designs took a turn for the normal. Still extravagant, yes, but at least Dash could understand the clothes these models and ponyquins wore. Aisles dedicated entirely to hats stretched away in each direction. An island of saddles floated in a sea of flamboyant dresses. Shoes – more shoes than Dash knew existed – filled every nook and cranny of the show, like they were the mortar holding the blocks of the fashion world together. Here and there empty booths stood, staffed by ponies tearing down old displays or preparing to erect new ones. And all around them, swarming through the crowd and between the booths and in the air overhead, models stood or strutted or flew, heads and tails high, their necks bent imperially, their coats and manes so perfect that Dash, the weather-mare and action pony who couldn’t give two bits about her appearance, felt intimidated by their presence. Even Rarity seemed drab in their shadows. Rarity didn’t let it faze her, though. Her eyes, if anything, grew more critical, and she sniped occasionally at the designs, though just as often she offered some grudging point of admiration. Nutmeg roused from his torpor as they walked. It probably helped that more than a few in the crowd turned their eyes in his direction. Although plain of coat and wearing not a stitch of clothes, he was still a fine specimen of a stallion, and Rainbow Dash felt obligated to walk closer by his side, shooting an occasional scowl at mares whose gaze lingered for too long. She didn’t want him feeling uncomfortable, after all. They might just be coworkers, but life aboard the Orithyia had drilled home the concept that shipmates were responsible for each other. More hours passed than Rainbow could count. They inched along glacially, the clocks hoarding their minutes like misers counting their pennies. Eternity stretched out before Rainbow Dash, an endless march of garish dresses, shrieking clothes horses and inane babble. Lunch came, offering them a brief reprieve, but then it was back into the breach, and Rainbow despaired. There were hours left to go, and it was only the first day. It was just after 4 p.m. when they discovered a new venue, a hall dedicated entirely to hats, and Rainbow Dash wanted to cry. She was about to when she heard something unexpected, something so out of place it was like a bucket of ice water poured on her back, shocking her out of the gruel of boredom and despondency. It was a stallion. And he was crying.