//------------------------------// // The Summer Sartorial Sensation, part 2 // Story: The Adventuring Type // by Cold in Gardez //------------------------------// The stallion wasn’t crying loudly. Not loudly, not like Rarity when she wanted attention. This was soft and understated. Rainbow Dash stopped in place, turned, and was about to give up – imagining that she had imagined it – when she saw him. The earth pony stallion was on the larger side of normal, and not with muscle. He wore his padding well, though, and his carriage reminded Rainbow Dash for a moment of Pinkie Pie, if she’d been born a stallion instead. His coat was a deeper red than Pinkie’s, though, and his carefully styled ruby mane caught the light and glimmered like a waterfall. On any street he would have turned heads. But here he stood alone, in the back corner of a booth, his head low as he sniffled. Dozens of hats perched on fake pony heads around him, unmodelled. His display was an island of calm in the storm. Huh. Rainbow Dash walked over, carefully picking her way around the hats, until she was only a few feet away. Close enough that they could speak without shouting. “Uh, hey.” She cleared her throat. “Are you, uh, okay?” The stallion wiped his eyes with the back of his hoof. “Oh! Yes, of course. I’m absolutely fine. Wonderful, in fact! I just had something in my eye for a moment, you know how it is with hats, all these feathers and glitter and—” His eyes, at last, focused on her, and his mouth closed with a sudden clack of teeth. He jerked, jumping upright, and for a moment any trace of sadness vanished from his face. It was like the sun had risen for him, but just as quickly the clouds returned, and his shoulders slumped, and he sat back onto his haunches, his ears wilting into his mane. “Ah, apologies. I thought you were somepony else for a second,” he mumbled. Rainbow Dash leaned back. The transition from tears to joy and back to despondency left her feathers unsettled. She struggled for a response and was saved when Rarity arrived. “Darling, are you looking at hats, now? These are quite nice but I think—oh, hello sir!” Rarity pulled up short, suddenly noticing the stallion hidden behind the hat boxes. “I didn’t see you back… er, I’m sorry, is everything alright? You seem a little, ah, down.” “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No, things are fine. Just fine! Why, things have never been better! Here I am, at the greatest fashion show of the year, surrounded by thousands of fellow designers! So what if my best model twisted her hoof last night, and now she can’t wear my designs on the Hatwalk Hysteria tonight? Who cares if nopony sees my best work? At least, at least, I g-got to c-come…” And he broke down again, crying quietly and without shame. Rainbow Dash looked away. Rarity seemed torn. Nutmeg stepped over and draped a wing over the stallion’s shoulders. “Hey, it’ll be fine,” Nutmeg said. “I think your hats are wonderful, and there seem to be plenty of ponies looking at them here. And, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” “Hat Trick. But call me Trick,” the stallion said. “And you’re right, ponies can see me here… but the Hatwalk Hysteria! Thousands of ponies watch! The best minds in fashion judge!! And if you win… oh, if you win… It’s the happiest feeling in the world. I mean, I think it must be. I’ve never won yet myself. And now I won’t this year, either.” “Well, Mr. Trick, what’s to stop you from entering now?” Nutmeg asked. “Don’t you have a hat?” “Oh, I do. Here, let me show you.” Hat Trick stood and walked around them to the center of his booth, where a blue cloth curtain kept something hidden. He gripped the curtain with his teeth and pulled it away. Inside was a hat. But it was not just a hat. Even Rainbow Dash, who wasn’t much in the fashion department, could tell this was something special. This was a Hat. The epitome of its species. If hats had royalty, this would be their queen. Her first impression was of the ocean. A wide brim, deep and dark as a sapphire, flowed like a gentle wave. A sea-green ribbon wrapped around the bond, tied with a demure bow on the wearer’s left side. The ribbon seemed more glass than cloth, and as she leaned in leaned in she swore the pattern of the thread shifted like water. Ripples across the surface of a still pond. And high above it all, rising from the band to sweep up the front of the taper and over the crown, was a brilliant ostrich plume, so red it seemed to burn. Yellow and orange sparkles glimmered in the plume’s eye, winking at them. Rainbow Dash remembered she needed to breath. “Oh my Celestia,” Rarity whispered. “This… You made this, Hat Trick?” “I did.” He sighed and stared at his creation. “I spent months on it. The band alone took weeks to design and fabricate. And now it’s wasted. All a waste.” “I’m not sure I understand that part,” Nutmeg said. He leaned forward to sniff at the hat’s brim. “Surely any model would be delighted to wear this. After all, it must be in contention to win.” “It’s not that simple, darling,” Rarity said, and Hat Trick nodded as she spoke. “Bespoke items like this are usually designed with a particular model in mind, and besides, even if another model could wear it, they’re probably already obligated this evening.” “She’s right,” Hat Trick said. “Prism Slash was the greatest model I’ve ever designed for. Her coat is the color of the sky. Her mane is like a rainbow, with every color of the spectrum. This hat… only she could do it justice. And last night she twisted her hoof!” “Huh. Well, maybe you can save it for next year?” Rainbow Dash asked. “I mean, if she’s got the perfect coat and mane, you might as well… just… why are you staring at me?” * * * “No.” “Hush, darling,” Rarity said absently. Her mouth was full of pins, and one-by-one she carefully inserted them into the brim of the Ocean Hat (as Rainbow Dash had taken to calling it), tightening its fit to hold steady atop Rainbow Dash’s head. “I don’t want to poke you.” “Then take this thing off and we’ll figure something else out.” “Come now, Miss Dash,” Nutmeg said. He was seated a safe distance away, watching as Hat Trick and Rarity made final adjustments to the hat’s fit. “I’m no fashionista, but even I have to say it looks wonderful on you.” “I’m not a model.” “You model all the time,” Rarity said. “You’ve modelled my dresses, even. And the Wonderbolts! They’re models, when you think about it.” Rainbow Dash gawked, and it was seconds before she could gather her faculties to respond. “What?! You take that back! The Wonderbolts are stunt fliers, not—ow! Hey!” “Sorry.” Rarity didn’t sound very sorry. “Pin slipped. I told you not to jerk around.” “I really, really, really appreciate this, Rainbow Dash,” Hat Trick said. He was breathless, almost vibrating in place as he worked. “I know this isn’t normally your thing, but I think you’ll enjoy it so much! Thousands of ponies will be watching you and wondering who that beautiful, graceful…” He paused for a moment as Rarity whispered something in his ear. “And, uh, awesome mare is.” Rainbow’s ears perked up. There were little holes on the side of the hat for them. “Really?” “Well…” He glanced again at Rarity, who was nodding vigorously. “Yes, absolutely. I mean, look at you. How could they not?” Hm. Dash ruffled her wings, settling them at her sides. “I guess… Nutmeg?” “You’re certainly sportier than the other models,” Nutmeg said. He glanced down at her ankles. “And a little shaggier, too. Is that a problem?” “Ah. Well.” Rarity ran a hoof along Dash’s coat. “It’s a little unruly, I suppose. Would you be willing to get a trim, darling?” Rainbow hadn’t trimmed her coat since joining the Orithyia, and as a result had become something of a wooly pegasus pony. Nutmeg was the same – working on icebergs, flying thousands of feet in the air, the July heat was far less a concern than the chilling cold of the ice or the wind. Her forelock fell into her eyes again, and she blew it clear with a huff. That resolved it for her. “Yeah, I guess. It’s been a while.” “Ooh!” Rarity clapped her hooves. “I know just the place! Hat Trick, do you think you can finish with these modifications? We’ll be back in plenty of time for the Hatwalk.” “I think so, Miss Rarity. And again, I am so, so grateful to all of you for this, especially you, Miss Dash.” Hat Trick carefully lifted the Ocean Hat from Dash’s head and set it back on the blank model. “This will take a few hours, anyway. So don’t feel like you have to rush.” “We shan’t! Now come, darlings! We have a stylist to visit!” Rarity gave Rainbow a gentle push with her shoulder, nudging them out into the chaos of the convention. They made their escape, with Rainbow and Nutmeg in the lead. The summer sun outside had fallen behind Fillydelphia’s high skyscrapers while they were inside. Far overhead and to the north, the massive shape of the Orithyia and her iceberg blotted out the sky, bringing an early night to half the city. They paused in the street, gazing up at it quietly, until Rarity’s nagging voice caught their ears, and then it was off to get a trim. All in the name of friendship. Rainbow kept telling herself that. * * * When Rainbow Dash needed a haircut, she normally went to the barber in Ponyville, an aging stallion who was a wizard with scissors, and when he was done her hair actually sat in an approximation of order. It was a colt’s cut, of course, without even a passing nod at the idea of style, and she ruined it the moment she took off, but it was quick and cheap and so what if the other mares sometimes pointed at her and laughed behind their hooves when they thought she couldn’t hear? Rainbow Dash was too cool to care about them. Rarity did not go to the barber in Ponyville. She booked her appointments a week in advance at the stylist, and spent hours in the chair getting her mane and tail shampooed, trimmed and curled. Her stylist, an olive mare named Under Cut, worked with the precision and fanaticism of a watchmaker. She was neither cheap nor fast, and when she was done nopony pointed at Rarity and laughed. It turned out they were going to the second kind of place. Rainbow paused outside the doors of the Main Tale Salon. A wood overhang crawling with ivy and orchids shaded the entrance, and bamboo planters held stalks of fragrant zebra grass on either side of the door. It looked exotic. It looked scary. It looked expensive. “This looks expensive,” Rainbow said. “Oh, foo. It will be my treat,” Rarity said. She ran a hoof along her own curled mane. “I’m half tempted to treat myself as well, but… no, this isn’t about me. This is about you. And Hat Trick! Oh, and Nutmeg, would you like a trim? I’m sure they could do something for a stallion.” Nutmeg gave his mane a shake. It was unruly, but stallions could get away with that. It made them look rakish, as Rarity would have said (and often did). “I think I’ll pass, Rarity. But thank you.” “Of course, of course. More for Rainbow Dash!” She flung open the doors. A cream mare with a lavender mane greeted them. Her eyes danced from Rarity, to Nutmeg, to Rainbow Dash, and then finally back to Rarity before she spoke. “Hm… one of these ponies is not like the other.” She spoke in an understated accent, similar to the spa twins back in Ponyville, but just a tad more hidden. Rainbow couldn’t quite place it. “Welcome to the Main Tale. How can we help you?” “I’m dreadfully sorry to barge in without an appointment,” Rarity said. “But my friend here will be doing some last-minute modelling at the Summer Sartorial Sensation. Do you think you can help her?” The mare’s gaze returned to Dash, and this time it was sharper. Rainbow Dash was almost always nude, but now she felt naked, as though everything was being stripped away, assessed, and discarded. “This will be a challenge.” A smile, so tiny it barely curved her lips, appeared on the mare’s face. “But we have an opening right now, I’m happy to say. Pixie!” A stallion with the same cream coat and lavender mane as the mare poked his head through the curtain separating the waiting area from the rest of the salon. “Yes?” “Get the bath ready. We have work to do.”