Not Available In Sanity
In Rarity's experience, the illusion of possessing an effortless natural beauty required approximately half a lifetime to cast.
She'd begun her experiments early. A filly who was forever trying to find one more fashion trade magazine she could browse through usually wound up gazing at the same dresses for weeks until another issue presented itself. Eventually, that meant paying some attention to the models. And it was true that part of a designer's purpose was to construct a garment which could hide or correct for any (sometimes falsely) perceived flaws in the body of the mare who was modeling it -- but there was still a case to be made for the designer to be presenting her own near-best possible self at all times. This was especially important when no personal garment was present. Mares who trotted into dress shops generally didn't focus their attention on the quality of Rarity's stitching, the thread count present within the cotton, and she considered it to be a rather good day when she found somepony who could distinguish topaz from a highly-polished and well-shaped citrine. They looked at her creations and judged by appearances. Sometimes they did the same with her. And if they somehow decided that either was lacking? Out the door they went.
Appearances were important in fashion, for the designer as much as her creations. If anything, the designer had to be a little more careful about herself, as there was a certain type of non-customer who would never purchase from any mare more attractive than she: it was the reason Rarity seldom sent herself to a personal peak. But at the same time, if she was a little too plain, then they would decide that despite the evidence presented by the dresses, a mare who didn't know how to make herself look good couldn't possibly know how to work with anypony else's looks...
Appealing enough to demonstrate skill, but not so beautiful as to drive the jealous away. It was an excruciatingly delicate balance to maintain and like any creation so complicated, the construction required a series of rather exacting tools.
Rarity's hoof polish had been around for generations: a blend enhanced with an exquisite balance of natural mineral salts, gathered from a single location by the same family. It simply worked, and would continue to do so forever.
Blending powder for her fur? Well, that was a necessity. Rarity's coat was a natural white and like just about every other naturally-white pony on the continent, that meant she also possessed a degree of grey. Blending powder put her a little closer to pure white. It allowed her to decomplicate a personal color wheel, and it had a few requirements. It had to last throughout the day. It couldn't leave any residue behind on contact, especially not when she was working with fabrics. Additionally, anypony who had somehow come to the decision that Rainbow Dash was a perfectly suitable friend needed to find something which was resistant to wind gusts, sudden downpours of unnecessarily cold water, electricity, and additionally would not vibrate free during any full-speed chase made with the intent of inflicting some portion of well-earned vengeance. Rarity had been trying to get Rainbow into the weather coordinator's ideal suite of cosmetics for several years, mostly so she could then have the pleasure of ruining it.
(There was a single potential exception to the white coat rule: Princess Celestia was believed to possess no natural grey whatsoever. A pony of refinement could be expected to experience several emotions upon learning that, and Rarity had yet to decide whether envy was just a little more suitable than worship.)
Sadly, Ponyville was fully familiar with her eyelash deficiencies: she'd never had any trouble in locating suitable falsies, but the quest for a truly durable binding agent was still in progress and when it came to things which could wash, shock, or blow them free, there was Rainbow. But with her mane and tail... there, she had found her ideal.
It had been a matter of successful progressive elimination. Regardless of what she had very carefully led the public to believe (because the illusion was simply that skilled), Rarity's natural falls were straight. The state she presented after a soaking (and now Rainbow's next dress was going to be that much tighter) was closest to that which had been offered to her at birth. It took a great deal of rather careful labor to place the elaborate curls, and then she'd had to find a way of maintaining them. Something which would let her keep everything clean without having to fully restyle after every shower, planned and non. So start at one end of the beauty shop's shampoo section, and just keep trying bottle after bottle until...
The success -- the only success -- was called Curlatura. The seagreen viscosity not only cleaned her mane and tail, it reinforced the changes she'd already made. Once drying took place, her twin falls of hair would simply spring back into her desired configuration! It was a miracle, one which involved no magic whatsoever. Admittedly, the chemical formula which arranged for that near-divine intervention was so complex that simply listing the ingredients took up the entire back of the bottle and the price seemed to have been determined by assigning each a value and then giving the total its own multiplier -- but the important thing was that it worked. It had worked from the first day she'd tried it, and it would go on working for the rest of her life.
In a sales life so unstable as to rely on the whims of creatures which liked to change minds that Rarity wasn't always entirely sure they had, cosmetics were a reassuring constant. For fashion was ever-changing, and Rarity had to spend her creative life in a constant gallop just to keep from falling behind the herd.
But with cosmetics -- once you'd found your perfect tools, you could keep on using them forever.
...or not.
Visits to the beauty supply shop were rather like turning to the comfort of a favorite childhood novel as an adult. The initial voyage had generated true terror as risk after threat rose to attack the heroine -- and now, all you had to do was turn the pages, smile, and know it all worked out in the end.
Rarity's corona fetched a jar of hoof polish, with attentive blue eyes noting that it had been one of but a few remaining on the shelf: the reorder would hopefully come in soon. Then it was another binding agent (as even that old novel could make a mare catch her breath at Page 252) because eventually there had to be one which could survive Rainbow's sense of humor, turn left, rotate, go down the shampoo aisle...
...hmm.
It was rather like finding an unexpected gap in one's teeth. Her corona compulsively probed at the space a few times, just in case the absent object decided to turn up. And then Rarity shrugged to herself, finished the trip down the aisle, and poked her head around the edge of the endcap hoof file display.
"Ms. Revlon?" The shop's operator glanced up from her own trade magazine, because of course cosmetics had their own trade magazines. Rarity had seen trade magazines for just about everything and so when she'd accompanied her father on an international fishing trip, had made a point of not examining any reading material within the bait shop. "Could you please tell me when the next shipment of Curlatura will be in?" With a smile, "There's no need to rush the order on my behalf. I still have about a third of a bottle, so I hardly need it at this exact minute. Any time within the next two weeks would --"
"-- it's been discontinued."
Rarity blinked. The inadequate binding agent shifted accordingly.
The pearlescent earth pony sighed. "I'm sorry, Rarity. I should have told you before this. I thought my stock would last longer, especially when it moves so slowly to begin with." Weary aquamarine eyes briefly dipped into self-imposed shadow. "That's part of why they stopped making it. When it comes to hair types, it was really only effective for a few ponies. Perfect for them -- but with everypony else, it didn't do much. So it never really had the sales, and when it comes to the cost of making something so complex..."
She was frozen within the aisle. Her hidden tail was beginning to twitch, and the miraculous shampoo helped those curls to maintain throughout every movement.
"...there were just less expensive things they could make, and get a greater profit at the same price point. And since it's always been just you and three other mares in town using it, I ordered a dozen bottles at a time and called it solved. When I heard it was going out, I tried to get more -- but the company didn't send me everything I ordered. Maybe that's because it was always a small-batch production. It ran out, and -- that's it."
The middle-aged mare sadly shook her head, then nosed the magazine closed.
"I can help you start looking for a replacement," she gently offered. "I remember how much trouble you had finding this in the first place --"
"-- everything," Rarity softly said. "I went through everything. I even risked some stallion products, then spent hours removing both product and scent --"
"-- I'm still waiting for the musk trend to die --"
"-- and this was the only thing which ever worked..."
This sigh was deeper. "You have a very rare hair type, Rarity. So rare that there's only three other mares in town who share it, and I put them onto Curlatura after you told me how well it was working. The oil balance, your natural moisture -- most shampoos aren't suitable for you, and it just happened that one was perfect." She got off her bench, then began to step out from behind the the sales counter. "But I'm sure we can find something which at least partially complements your --"
PARTIALLY?
As screams went, it was mostly internal. The visible portion manifested as something which took place around the eyes, and that was something Ponyville should have gotten used to by now. Ms. Revlon, who automatically froze in place upon seeing the twitch, hadn't.
"No..." The designer's voice was soft, utterly controlled. It was often like that at the beginning, and only a few knew to recognize it as a warning. "One does not step backwards from perfection. May I see that order form, Ms. Revlon? I wish to copy out the manufacturer's address."
"-- and this," Rarity huffily declared as her corona slammed the document onto the librarian's desk, "is the first thing they sent me back. The continental sales figures for the brand, along with the cost per bottle compared to their profit margin. Yes, I admit that there are certainly stronger sellers and things which bring in more bits, but they had a fully loyal customer base, Twilight! Once one uses Curlatura, they have found their ideal match! There is no need to purchase anything else! Why not simply accept the trickle of profit as a constant? They have abandoned --" the designer paused "-- very well, based on our nation's population, a rough estimate for the fraction which shares my hair type, and allowing a degree of error for international sales, they have abandoned perhaps two hundred mares. None of whom did anything to deserve it!"
Twilight did what so many ponies usually tried during the first stage. She attempted to be reasonable. There was an ongoing theory which said that if you attempted to be reasonable in front of an enraged Rarity enough times, one of them had to work.
"It's supply and demand, Rarity --"
"-- I have a demand," stated a designer who created dresses, on commission, to suit the needs of one pony. "One would think they would perceive the obligation to nose over a supply."
The thought which passed behind a suddenly-impassive mask of fur and bangs went something like ...and this isn't going to be the one. "You said that's the first thing they sent you?" The designer nodded. "Then you must have sent something back."
"A prepaid voucher, along with a promise to send another every year, as long as they mixed a single batch and shipped it to the Boutique. A customer in perpetuity." The white head angrily tossed, and curls bounced appropriately -- if a little more slowly than usual: she was already trying to stretch out her supply. "I told them that they didn't even have to replicate the original bottle. One might think they would appreciate my loyalty. But it would seem that a corporation, which is not legally a pony, feels no obligation to recognize any of our virtues."
"And they mailed it back," Twilight guessed.
"Very nearly."
The librarian frowned. "How does somepony 'very nearly' send a voucher back?'"
"They cashed it and deducted postage." She reared up, and well-polished forehooves slammed onto the desk with enough force to make the checkout stamp dance. "Twilight, this is my perfect shampoo. One does not abandon perfection so casually. There must be bottles scattered on shelves across the continent. As a librarian, you can request town business directories from every part of our nation. That will provide me with the addresses of every registered beauty supply shop in Equestria. I shall write to all of them and offer to purchase their remaining stock. With a minor degree of luck in play, that should provide me with sufficient for a lifetime."
To which all Twilight could do was helplessly repeat "Supply and demand."
Rarity frowned. The white body carefully dropped back to floor level.
"I fail to take your meaning, Twilight."
"If your math is right... then it was perfect for two hundred mares," the librarian tried to explain, already feeling her bangs beginning to fray around the edges. "Some of them may have already started searching for other products. A few might try replicating the formula at home --"
Which triggered a small snort. "-- and I wish them fortune. Have you seen the ingredient list? Without knowing exactly what the proportions are --"
"-- but there's going to be mares who are doing the same thing you are, Rarity." It was an effort to keep her desperation out of it, and she didn't completely succeed. "Searching for the last bottles. The supply is frozen: the demand just spiked. And some of them would have found out earlier than you did. A portion of that supply is already gone: it has to be." Almost frantic now, "And getting books means I deal with the collectibles market: you don't. Limited print run, last print run! If that applies to shampoo, something where the supply can ultimately run out, and resellers come in...!"
The false eyelashes twitched.
"Mares," the designer considered, "who broke out of the gate before I did. Thank you, Twilight. You're entirely correct. That is a concern, especially when dealing with such a limited quantity of product."
Twilight made a mistake. She exhaled.
"I'm glad you're starting to see it. So once you factor out the spells, how complex is --"
"-- which means," Rarity gracefully cut in, "that when it comes to mail order, I need to make up some time." And raised her voice. "Spike? Are you about? May I have the grace of your presence for a moment? I need to ask for a minor favor..."
It was scavenging, and there were those who would have said the word itself stripped away dignity. Rarity disagreed. She had a habit of picking up lost coins, and that was viewed by some as 'scavenging': the charities which received her finds preferred to treat it as a donation. Scavenging was taking what just about nopony else cared to claim and giving it a useful purpose. To Rarity, that not only implied dignity, it spread such dignity around.
Of course, in this case, 'just about nopony else' had still left her competing against roughly two hundred mares.
The first step, of course, had been to act locally. There was but one beauty supply shop in Ponyville, but Barnyard Bargains existed as a generalist and therefore it was necessary to check those shelves. Additionally, Mr. Rich was known to exert a certain amount of economic force across the continent: she had felt it would hardly hurt to request that he try placing the order. So she had explained the situation, and... well, as it turned out, he had a rather gentle way of attempting to once again explain the supply/demand issue, and the perceived fatherly aspect of the talk made it all the more irritating.
But she had forgiven him for that, because he never gouged on any price and kept exacting inventory. A total which showed that there was one bottle somewhere in the store and after she'd taken most of the shampoo section apart, she found where it had fallen behind twenty others. It bought her time, and did so at the original retail. And of course, it was perfectly reasonable for her to ask that every other store in the franchise send whatever bottles they might happen to find into Ponyville.
She checked Canterlot herself, right down to the Tangle. The oldest part of the capital was a place nopony went into without a truly good reason, like a home address or a workplace or a desperate need to fence the goods before the police caught up. It seemed to suggest the possibility that nopony had been willing to check there, and she also now knew to dismantle everything visible in order to find what wasn't. Oddly, there were shop owners who had poor reactions to finding most of their stock glowing, floating, and partially relocated in front of the conditioners in order to make room, but she tried to assure them that she was going to put everything back where it was. Besides, there was the potential to gain a sale! And it wasn't as if she was going to do anything like what so many customers had done to her: the local equivalent for the most frequent Boutique offense seemed to be either demanding that the proprietor mix the shampoo on the spot or having Rarity show that she could do it herself. Both were unreasonable. Unlike the shaky, close-to-her-mass-limit levitation of the blue bottles, because ponies could still duck under those.
Additionally, there were three known users of Curlatura in Ponyville. She couldn't quite persuade anypony in the capital to give up a customer address list, but with Ms. Revlon, it was just a matter of lurking about the shop, sniffing everypony for that incredibly delicate afterscent, and then following them home. While carrying a camera, because there was information she needed in case of trade, and most ponies balked when asked for their measurements in public. Of course, no part of Rarity's mark-gifted skill set involved stealthy following or taking pictures without getting caught, but that just led to the negotiations. And really, offering to purchase their supplies -- at a rate which would have given them a profit -- or just make dresses for them -- they should have been expecting that! They had no reason to react so poorly, especially since they had the immediate option to begin seeking another shampoo and, should they sell their supply to Rarity, that option would become even more immediate!
...well, really.
Hmph.
...actually, now that the door was slammed in her face, as long as she'd just been kicked off the porch anyway and a closed door was blocking all resident visibility -- wasn't that the garbage can for bottles right there? Bottles were seldom completely emptied. And yes, there were some who would say it was digging through garbage, but they were wrong. Horns had certain benefits. She was sorting. Needing to hold her breath was more or less incidental.
Scavenging was an exacting, careful process: one which came with a certain dignity. And therefore, nopony on the street had any reason to stare when they found her doing it.
(She wasn't entirely sure what to do with their spontaneous offers. Free meals were best off being given to those who were hungry, and it took some time to redirect the path of fresh food. The bits could always be given to charity, but she suspected those who were sadly pushing them toward her would eventually claim they had been taken under false pretenses.)
"I need Spike," Rarity announced as she stormed into the patron-free library, curls flouncing in all directions. (She was up to four bottles, and so could indulge a little more freely.) "Again. And yes, I have brought a gem to power his magic, again." Furiously, with her tread now making several periodicals racks shake, "I swear, Twilight, there is something about an opponent you cannot see, have no opportunity to kick."
"Rarity --" The tone wasn't hopeless. Hopeless had been three weeks ago. Twilight was all the way down to resignation.
"-- but I shall inflict an injury. The pain of losing." A thin, somewhat sinister smile crept across her features: small portions of blending powder evacuated to safer territory. "I remain a hoofball player's daughter. I know how to make a pony feel that ache." Somewhat more loudly, "Spike? Are you about? The same destination as the last, dear one! We shall defeat her yet!"
"He's playing with some friends," Twilight wearily reported from her side of the desk. "He won't be back for a few hours."
The designer stopped.
"Very well. The Boutique is closed for the day: I can wait. Is the latest issue of --"
"-- and you said the same destination," Twilight carefully cut in. "There's no point in asking for more town business directories, or at least there's no reason to ask twice: the only ones I haven't gotten are from the towns which are too small or new to have one. You don't need to contact any shop more than once. And I've seen you giving him a lot of gems lately, Rarity. What's going on?"
Rarity carefully sat down. White shoulders shrugged.
"Well, it's hardly a secret," she offered. "He is assisting me in bidding on an auction."
"...auction," Twilight eventually repeated, because all the Bearers eventually wound up reflecting each other and dealing with Rarity in mid-obsession could make anypony go full Fluttershy.
"Yes. A mail-based auction." Proudly, "I gave some thought to what you said, Twilight. Supply and demand, added to the collectibles market! Something I have frankly never truly understood --"
"-- which at least means we're probably not going to get another incident like Rainbow putting my personal ownership stickers on extra books and selling them as alicorn collectibles --"
Carefully-groomed ears immediately rotated forward. "Sorry? Didn't quite catch that."
"...nothing."
Rarity waited for a few more seconds, then shrugged again. "At any rate, there are some publications which serve as storehouses for public auction listings. A trade magazine for everything! And as it turns out, there are a few who make a living by selling discontinued products!" Quickly, "At a profit, of course. Sadly, nothing I could attend in person was selling my shampoo. But I inquired to those who listed in those classifieds, and one responded. She has three bottles, Twilight! So I placed my bid."
Several library-hosted years of hard-won, mostly humiliating education flashed behind Twilight's eyes.
It was the equivalent of glancing at half of an equation and instantly realizing what the total was going to be. She might be right, but her inner teacher was still going to be irritated if she didn't show the work.
"By mail."
"...yes," Rarity eventually answered. "I feel like we'd covered that."
"And the seller wrote you back to say there had been another bid. Higher than yours."
"...yes. That is how auctions work..."
"And you've been outbid a few times now,. So you keep raising your bid, the other party is increasing theirs, and you're never told who you're competing against. You can't see their face or judge their body language, because they just exist as a number you have to outdo."
In utter confusion, "The seller guarantees privacy. Yes, I am being outbid, the same bidder, always by one to five bits, but if I increase my own offering to the point where another would not stay in the race, I can still win. Asking for Spike's services allows me to get my next bid in all the faster --"
Twilight's tail lashed, and the first sparks of a frustrated corona twisted around the tip of her horn.
"-- do you have to write if you're dropping out?"
"Yes. How else would the seller know that the auction is over --"
"-- it's a scam."
Silence.
"...explain," Rarity slowly Fluttershied.
"It could be real," Twilight forced herself to acknowledge. "But based on what I've had to deal with from bad booksellers -- and I want to see your magazine later, just to find out if the receiving address is within a few blocks of the ones I know are suspect -- there's about a ninety percent chance that there is no other bidder. There probably isn't even shampoo. The con artist waits for your bid to come in, and then they decide how much you've been outbid by. You could bid infinity and the counter would be infinity plus one. You're being strung along. All they want to do is see how much you'll pay. If they think you're at the limit, they'll stop. And if you write back saying that you can't go any higher, they'll tell you the other pony renounced their bid and you're the winner. And like every auction, you send the payment before you receive the goods." With a sigh, "You'll always win, Rarity. But what you'll probably win is some bottles with water in them. If they even send that much."
Slowly, inexorably, the designer's forelegs folded as her head turned away from the librarian in shame, leaving her lying on the floor while staring at distant atlases.
"Oh." It had just barely been audible. "Oh, Twilight. I can see it now. But..." Her head twitched -- but she still would not look at her friend. "...if it is real -- and I stop..."
Twilight took a slow breath, and slender legs began their trot around the desk. "How much was your last bid?"
Rarity told her.
"...sunk cost fallacy," Twilight stated after the blinking and tail rustles finally stopped. "You were in too deep already. But they didn't get your money." Carefully, the little body sank down to rest against white fur: blending powder of quality failed to transfer. "Don't write back. Even if they can prove they have it, and right now, you'd need to see it. Even then, I wouldn't guarantee it's what you'd actually get. Just -- stop, Rarity. I don't know if I can get you to stop looking for it completely, but with this seller -- please stop?"
The white unicorn shuddered, and the vibration grounded in close-pressed feathers.
"...yes. Thank you, Twilight."
They stayed like that for a while.
"Did you try asking Zecora? If she could replicate the mix and enchantments?"
It triggered a little snort. "Weeks ago. She was willing to try, but -- she's not a chemist, Twilight. Her mark, and magic, are for potions. As she explained it to me, it's almost impossible for her not to place some of her own energies into anything she personally blends. She has to be cautious not to shed thaums when stirring tea." Paused. "And begged me not to ask for details. Apparently she can drink it safely, because that just claims some of her own power back. Anypony else..." Another shrug. "So not only was the list of ingredients more complex than anything she generally deals with, with no ratios or proportions listed -- she had been asked to deal with pure chemistry, for my shampoo's only magic comes in the miracle of its effects. Still -- she was willing to try. There were three attempts."
"Pure chemistry," Twilight mused. "I didn't know that. I thought there had to be some spellwork involved. But if you're still trying to find bottles, that means it didn't work. What happened?"
"In order?"
Twilight nodded.
"Did you happen to spot that mysterious column of orange smoke which briefly came up from the Everfree?"
And winced.
"...oh."
Morosely, "Fortunately, she got clear of the fumes in time. The second attempt -- well, she was also brewing that one outside, and so had a clear gallop once she spotted the way the bubbles were beginning to surge. It meant the shockwave from the actual explosion did no more than boost her speed. And of course, I helped to repair her masks. But on the third -- that appeared stable. It was the proper color and consistency. The scent was even relatively close to the original. So she tested it -- Twilight? You just shivered. Are you feeling --"
"-- tested."
"Yes."
The librarian's voice had been hollowed. "How do you test something which works on manes and tails -- without manes and tails to test them on?"
Rarity paused.
"Zecora once spoke to me about our manes and tails," the designer finally continued. "The variety of them. Zebras do not possess our range of hues. Her rather poor experience with that filly's color-changing prank spell being cast on her person... it did not rob her of a certain curiosity. She has considered the use of dyes, for the creation of a color and pattern she would control. Just to see what it would be like, for a little while."
"...and?"
"She isn't curious about that any more." Rarity sighed. "Also, we shouldn't expect to see her in town for at least another week."
"Oh."
"Of course, she wanted to know what her exact hue was, as her mastery of our language is not yet complete. My own skills allowed me to tell her." Another pause. "It was surprisingly difficult for her to find curses which rhymed with 'coquelicot'."
Twilight shuddered -- then made an effort, and managed to recenter. "About the formula --"
Rarity stood up.
"No more bids," she announced. "Not for things I cannot see or sample."
"-- and samples --"
The designer, eyes narrowed with thought, didn't seem to have heard that part. "I need the product coming to me. Classified ads, expressing my desire, along with a carefully-set price ceiling and rules under which I will and will not purchase. I can find appropriate locations in which to place them. And in the meantime... Thank you, Twilight. I think I have something I wish to try." More softly, and mostly to herself. "I have to find everything I can. Gather whatever can be located. Use whatever I find. Generosity tells me to leave some with those who still wish to possess it, to make my efforts honest -- but for whatever can be mine, I cannot afford to lose a single wash..."
She trotted out, leaving an increasingly helpless librarian to stare at a quickly-departing, steadily flouncing tail.
Cameras and cinema were both relatively new things in the world, and so a number of the potential innovations offered by both had yet to be discovered. A few others had been theorized by professionals, but hadn't really been tested. Time manipulation footage fell into the second category. It wasn't currently possible to capture images at a frame rate sufficient to allow true ultra-slow motion on playback, and when it came to time-lapse photography... there were certain difficulties in rigging the camera to automatically take a single picture, wait a selected amount of time, and then take another one. Not only did the clockwork require tending, but ponies kept walking into the shot.
You really couldn't get a good time-lapse sequence going with Equestrian technology. (Minotaurs were closer, but hadn't quite reached the goal yet.) But there was a sale notice in front of the Boutique, and that was the sort of thing which could make a pony wish for a picture as a permanent record. The Boutique generally didn't have sales: unless the owner was trying to clear out failed stock, a dress took as long as it took to make, and then it cost whatever it cost.
So the notice itself drew some attention, especially once ponies saw what the elegant calligraphy actually said. And as time passed, new words were added, while others changed.
If the right kind of cinema camera had existed...
There is no sign in front of the Boutique.
Then there is.
Special: five percent off any purchase when turning over a bottle of Curlatura shampoo.
Frames go by.
Ten percent.
Twenty percent.
There's a brief blockade of white fur and rage-spiking corona.
(A full bottle. Which is full of the original shampoo. Not an empty one, or something which has been loaded with your dish detergent. Also, there is undoubtedly a pony reading this who came back to see if she could try again, and this serves as notice that she is now banned from the Boutique. I didn't think particularly well of you after being kicked off your porch, Valley Blossom, and you have not exactly improved my opinion.)
Twenty-five percent.
Another obstruction, and the sign has picked up a poster. The lower half of the addition shows two stallion faces above a very long list of locations, deeds, and hints on how to detect fur dye. The top part just says WANTED.
Also banned. Additionally, I should add that I am not seeking pictures of bottles. And should the two of you make the mistake of returning to the scene of an attempted crime, I would ask you to use the available blank space and attached quill to answer a question. Your most common alias (although obviously not that which you attempted to use in my shop) is to claim you are Flim and Flam Fields. Brothers. I feel the need to point out that the last part effectively defines 'males'. So not only did you make for exceptionally poor mares in voice and affectations while doing nothing about your respective jawlines, but what did you even NEED with my dresses?
It's possible to watch the flowers in the background as they wilt.
Very well: materials plus labor. That is IT.
And die.
Most of those who knew the town existed were the ones who lived in it. The settlement was too new to have been counted in any census and was still a few moons away from paying that first set of taxes. Even when viewed on the most updated of maps, it tended to be mistaken for a printing error. It had originally possessed homes, a school, and some still-unregistered shops: the last category had come far enough along to allow a few specialty operations. The eventual rail line was still three gallops away, the station had been under construction right up until the moment when the darkness had spilled across the horizon, and there probably wouldn't be a Town Hall for a while because wood corroded wherever those shadows flowed.
The town, when viewed from the majority of legal definitions, barely existed. But it was only hours away from filing its first set of disaster relief forms and if that didn't make it an official part of Equestria, nothing would.
Five Bearers, and their protector, were down. The pegasi had found darkness clinging to their wings, gluing feathers together before it began to creep across fur, coming ever-closer to blocking snouts. A pair of earth ponies had been the next to fall: one had pink legs trapped within soil which the creature's passage had rendered into quicksand, while the stronger was trying to force her way out from under a collapsed supply of building materials. A little dragon had long-since run out of flame. And the alicorn... the alicorn had tried to evacuate the town's citizens, teleporting as many as she could find to safety. But some were cowering in strange places, afraid to come out. And for those she had been able to locate... there had been too many, and a collapsed little body had no strength or magic left to give.
So many of the homes had been damaged. The school was collapsed into itself. Multiple shops had fallen. And a single white unicorn stood in front of the last intact one, as darkness flowed towards her from a mere twenty body lengths away. Darkness which growled, and those sounds were not enough to block the noises made by gnashing fangs.
"No," the unicorn softly stated. "Not this one. You cannot have this. Your attack ends here."
Her words didn't slow the darkness. It flowed on at the same steady, unstoppable rate it had used to move in on everything else. All which had been lost.
The unicorn's corona ignited. Saddlebags opened, soft blue delved within, and two dozen glowing sewing needles speared into the heart of the shadows.
It produced a new noise, just barely registering within twisting white ears. Metal, skidding off to the sides. And the exact nature of that sound would have been lost to so many --
-- but this was a Bearer.
"Ah," she breathed. "We knew there was something solid at the core: the clawprints you corrode into the world as you pass were proof enough. But now we know part of its nature, do we not? Scales. That is your armor. So -- two questions..."
Fifty more needles rose.
"...are they the sort which overlap, and so can be levered up to have pain jab beneath? Or is it a case where there are little hollows at the place where multiple edges touch?"
The darkness roared. The unicorn smiled.
"Oh, you don't have to tell me," she half-whispered, as so many of those who remained watched from the core of terror. "Let's just... find out."
Fine-drawn steel flew into the shadows. Probed.
There was another roar, as the darkness flowed up to the tips of her forehooves.
Then there was a scream.
Jets of black liquid shot out of the shadows: the unicorn just barely managed to dodge the closest one, and the end of a fast-fraying curl was still drenched by the blast. The noxious substance hissed as it touched Sun's light, and every bit which came from within the shadows seemed to carry some of the darkness away with it. The umbra collapsed into the creature as it bled, staggered backwards, evaporated, there was enough visible now to see where the needles were and so the unicorn saw how they could stab deeper --
-- the monster fell.
Crashed to the ground, which barely noticed its fast-dispersing weight. And at the moment after Sun reached its core, there was nothing there at all.
The unicorn took a slow breath, mostly to make sure she still could. Dropped the needles because steel so pitted and warped could never serve again, galloped for each friend in turn to make sure they were all right.
And then a white head poked itself into the last intact shop.
"Hello! Is anypony -- oh, good: there you are! All nice and tucked into a cowering curl right at the center of your beautiful -- may I call it beautiful? -- little shop! Well, let me say that you certainly seem to have a fine selection, along with your priorities in proper order! Because what is life in a new settlement if one cannot look their best? And so establishing a beauty supply shop should clearly be among the earliest priorities. I for one am fully pleased by your choice, along with the fact that you chose to cower here instead of leaving me to wait until you returned to town. Now. By any chance, would you happen to possess a supply of -- oh, do untuck yourself and serve a customer? My mane and tail are hoping for the opportunity to give you bits. For the mane, the need would be rather more urgent. And speaking strictly in terms of beginning to restore the local economy? You could really use the business."
It was, even for the emotionally-wounded, an exceptionally slow trot home. Every hoof dragged in turn, and did so in a way which threatened to ruin the polish.
At least I can still buy polish. That unique blend of minerals, found in only one place...
Just like her shampoo. Found in only one place. Her home.
The last of it.
Her corona had scraped the interior of every bottle, combining what little residue remained into a single repository. She'd stretched out the supply as much as she could, but -- Rarity was a pony who had a fundamental need to be clean, and Bearer life provided endless opportunities for becoming dirty. She'd still gone through it too fast. What was left in her bathroom -- enough for one more wash. And she was coming back after mailing out the notices which would pull the classified ads. After making one last check with Mr. Rich, after kicking the sign into somepony else's bonfire, after taking a final pointless tour of Canterlot, after -- giving up.
There had been a miracle once. A perfect product: perhaps only perfect for two hundred or so, but perfect. Its only sin had been in not spreading that perfection to thousands. And for that solitary flaw, it had been sentenced to death.
Whatever supply had remained on the continent... those who had scavenged first were likely to have gone through whatever they had gathered, unless they'd saved some for a special occasion. Anypony who still had a bottle had decided to let that status maintain. And Rarity... she supposed she could save the last portion. Bring it out decades from now, to let her have one last perfect styling. A wash, a curl, and a bask in memory.
But things happened, especially in Ponyville. Her final bottle could go up in smoke, or in flames, or -- well, Ponyville offered any number of options, really. In that sense, it was best to get it over with. A shower, a moment of soft weeping, and she would go to Ms. Revlon's in the morning to begin the quest anew.
It wasn't fair. But it was the way things were, and so her corona wearily ignited as she came home, projecting forth to interact with the magic which sealed the Boutique's locks --
-- nothing happened. Nothing opened. And it took a weary designer one second too long before she recognized the reason why.
It's already open.
She burst into the Boutique at full gallop, horn gouging the door's wood in her effort to get it out of the way that much faster and she knew what her first priority had to be, she galloped while screaming out the name until a fully-calm feline made her unruffled way into sight (and that should have been a clue), she gathered Opal up in her corona and checked stock and storeroom, inventory and personal possessions in order to have a complete list of the missing before summoning the police --
-- but there was only one thing missing.
The bottle.
The final bottle of Curlatura was gone.
She was not surprised to find herself laughing. There was humor in the situation, if you just thought about it properly. She had felt that she was desperate? She had posted classified ads with a contact address: such had told others that she was trying to gather some of what was left. It likely meant she had some, and that had been a truth. One last bottle. Something which another had been so desperate to gain as to break into her home. A thief with a singular purpose, making off with but one item.
Perhaps it had been the last bottle in the world.
Something of a... collector's item.
Rarity laughed, and that mirth was bitter.
Then she laughed some more, because it could have been so much worse. Somepony had gotten through her locks, and all that was missing was a bottle of shampoo? Opal was healthy, her stock was intact, personal mementos were untouched and nopony had even gone for the ancient silver bit in her safe, the personal gift from Luna herself? Then exactly what was wrong? Her cat was all right: everything after that was a gift from Sun and Moon, and she had only lost something which would have soon been used up anyway.
She laughed, and recognized that she was mostly laughing at herself. She made sure to feed Opal, because the theft must have been stressful and -- well, it also must have been hours ago, while Rarity was still waiting for the train: that was probably why Opal was so calm now. Plenty of time for recovery.
And then she thought about to do next. She had to make sure the spell on the locks was only temporarily disrupted: if it was a permanent dispel, she had some purely physical specimens which could serve until she found replacements. Somepony had to be brought in to read any lingering magical signature from the opening effort: that would likely be an officer. Who would be coming to her home to collect a report of Grand Theft Oil Balance And Curl Maintenance --
-- she giggled --
-- really, how ridiculous was this? Shampoonapping. Chemicals held hostage. Too much time in the custody of the thief and it might decide to turn towards their side. Call that cruel fate -- Reconditioning!
It set her to laughing again, and she kept laughing right up until the moment the explosion went off.
A flicker of corona had jammed the door behind her. After that, it was the gallop. There was nothing but the gallop, because she knew where the center had been.
The explosion hadn't been particularly loud and really, given all the things which took place in the basement, a certain number of booms was a reasonable expectation. But you had to check on explosions every time, she was the closest to the tree and --
-- the little alicorn, uneven bangs swaying slightly as the twitching tail shifted across the grass, looked up at her from a half-crouched position in front of the library. The carried glass bobbed with the movement, but remained suspended within pinkish light.
"Here," Twilight offered, and offered up a bottle filled with seagreen viscosity.
Rarity stared.
"It's very complex," the librarian added. "Also, I think I found another reason it wasn't around in large amounts. You're really supposed to make it in small batches. When you get too much of it together in a single cauldron... well, that's just chemistry." She rapidly shook her head, as if trying to dislodge something. "Very loud chemistry."
The most eloquent Bearer searched for words.
"Twilight --"
"-- I can see your lips moving. Speak up?"
Volume increased. "-- you broke into my home..."
The slender head dipped, and purple eyes half-closed. "You... you weren't going to give up any. You said that. The only way for me to try and get a chemical analysis for ratio and proportions was to break it down. That meant destruction of the sample, and... if it failed, then I'd wasted something you couldn't replace. If I failed too many times, starting too soon, that's all of it. I thought I could finish before you got back and just leave it there for you, but... it was so complicated -- oh, Sun and Moon, Rarity, you came back and somepony had broken into your home, I must have made you worry so much, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm --"
And then white fur was pressed against the trembling body.
If she had told me what she intended...
...no. I can't guarantee I would have let her try, especially when it came to the last of it. Because I can be too possessive, and...
...she's still sending scrolls. Still sorting things out.
She did this for me.
"-- forgiven," the designer declared. (It normally would have been a whisper, but Twilight's ears were still ringing.) "You're forgiven." With a smile. "We'll discuss the particulars later."
They nuzzled in the shade of the tree: the nuzzle meant for friends. And maintained it, even as more ponies galloped up to make sure everything was okay. You had to check, when it was an explosion.
"An exact reproduction?" Rarity asked.
"According to everything I could use for the test." Twilight smiled -- and then the expression faded. "But it is a mane and tail shampoo. There's really only one way to find out. If you want to risk it..."
Rarity nodded, smiled for both.
"I trust you." Paused. "I'm also going to trust you to fix my locks. And to make sure they're proof against a few additional things."
"Such as?"
With a completely straight face, "You."
Twilight giggled, and the friends went inside.
Clean curls perfectly flounced their way into the beauty shop.
"Hello, Ms. Revlon! Now I recognize that at least one of them isn't speaking to me, so I have to ask you for a favor. Would you please tell the other three local users of Curlatura that I have a new supplier for them? But just those three mares, because the pony who recreated it only has time to do so much, and it's best made in small batches. So I won't be needing any shampoo today, or for years to come. But don't worry! I still have purchases to make! For starters, I'm rather low on hoof polish." The happy canter was now making its way down the proper aisle. "The perfect hoof polish, of course! Gathered from the only place in all the world with that unique balance of minerals, for generations --"
The soon-to-be-dirty hooves stopped.
"-- Ms. Revlon?"
But the shop's owner was already running. Because the query had been soft, utterly controlled, and that was the first sign...
"Where is my polish?"
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"Not Available in Sanity" is a chapter title that most of your stories could use...
I'm familiar with that struggle, oof. You have a roblem and nothing solves it, so you search and try and suffer and nothing is fixing it until something does and it's great and then it's gone - because when a solution is that rare, it's usually just as rare that the solution works, and so you're one of 200 left on the outside of that common denominator.
There's probably a very specific german word for that feeling.
There have been numerous cases throughout my life, ice creams and pizzas among other things that don't come to memory as easily...but interestingly enough both my earliest and most recent memory both fall in the beauty products category - an acne treatment that worked and -kept- working, and a particular shade of hair dye that didn't fade into a mockery of itself over time...I haven't found myself buying any of the marked up supply I've found online - but I can't say I don't empathize.
From the summary.
Well now I have to read this to find out how said explosions happen. I’m a sucker for (good)explosions.
----
How do the forms get to them? Or are the Bearers / Twilight sorta like an "Here's a packet of forms to become a full Equestrian town! And your honorary disaster relief forms!"
Or Celestia has a guard / construction crew or something in the wings, to clean up when Twilight calls...
----
Twilight Best Scientist!
Also, Twilight's got a new income source!
Also also, How many security spells could she sell that she could guarantee they were proof against herself??
----
Now... How to solve this new issue... Minerals aren't as easily reproducible as chemicals are?
awesome
10310120
Maud. Maybe through Twilight, who can claim she came to know The Secret in an unpunishable way. Assuming my theories of how rock farming works are correct. Failing that, Applejack or Pinkie might be able to ask around.
Well, if the Maud of this verse anything like the canon one, she would know every location on the continent that would have the right mix of minerals.
For Zecora's colour incident, read Orange Is The New Blue.
For Rainbow Dash's collectibles scandal, see The Slipped Case
Interestingly, Orange Is The New Blue is in 'verse, while The Slipped Case is not.
“Rarity, what are you doing in my barn?”
“Oh, darling. It’s amazing. I have devised a three step process to replicate my missing hoof polish! You see, as you use your spinning whetstone it grinds away the iron of your tools. But your tools also wear at the stone. Combined with the water used to keep the stone and tool cool, it forms a slurry of the most fabulous consistency. It is nearly ideal for removing imperfections in the keratin of my hooves!”
“Uh-huh...”
“The problem is that the particles of iron rust. Any that are left behind leave an unpleasant discolouration. So they have to be removed. Your axle grease not only provides mechanical lubrication, but will trap the fine rust particles in itself. The tiniest smear is enough to remove them all.”
“...right.”
“All that is left to do is remove the grease. Darling, limestone has been an additive to soap for as long as there has been soap. It is also in those tins of whitewash. Dabbing it on lifts the grease, for easy removal with a plain water rinse before it has the opportunity to dry. The results are truly marvellous. I don’t recall my hooves ever looking so good. See for yourself!”
“-‘Ah guess ‘ah can’t argue with the results. So, are ya willing to trade for the stuff you’ve used?”
“But of course, dear. Just name your price!”
“Well, you can start by sharpening the blade of the plough. Then the market cart needs the axles greasing. And finally, the window trims on the ground floor of the homestead need a lick of whitewash. Seems fair ta me...”
“But, darling. All that manual labour will ruin the finish on my hooves!”
“...Rarity? I love you like kin. An’ that’s the only reason I ain’t kicking you in the snout right now. Get outta my barn...”
Doom. Doom!
Poor Twilight. I was expecting a "focus character checks with each of her friends, who all try and fail to guide her back to sanity" montage, but no, she's getting all the attention this time around.
Huh. There's a fascinating concept.
Didn't expect a moment of incredible courage and badassery in here, but I am by no means complaining.
Fantastic stuff. I've known the pain of discontinuation both personally and by proxy. (I'm pretty sure my mother went through four different brands of shampoo before I was fifteen, and cursed the heavens every time one went to the Big Beauty Supply Shop in the Sky.) Magnificent showcase of Rarity trying to steady a collapsing pillar of her life.
If they think Rarity is bad with something like shampoo, just imagine what she’d be like if they stopped selling her favorite brand of foal control tea...
According to the internet
So, if the company ever finds out what you've done
they can sue your ass into
OBLIVION!
"-- which at least means we're probably not going to get another incident like Rainbow putting my personal ownership stickers on extra books and selling them as alicorn collectibles --"
(snerk)
i.gyazo.com/38f3070afbb8418803d90dca318de25f.png
Poor Rarity! All that effort she has to go through, daily.
Meanwhile, here's me feeling like a slug because I pick my shampoos by how nice they smell.
10310291
I'll tell you where you can stick your non-Equestrian Earth laws!
Right into a big book of copyright legalities so others can understand them in due time. However, they may not apply to our alien horse-friends!
A very Estee Rarity one-shot. Loved it. And the ending was the essence of Generosity itself when she decided to share with the 3 other mares in town... it's at least a good way to mend bridge with Valley Blossom.
Twilight is really a genius of multiple field with a laboratory. Must be nice to have as a friend. But the the frequent explosions must be nerve wracking. Do not envy Spike living with her... must have learned some chemistry along the way, at least enough to know when to dive for cover or the need to air the lab. The addition of Trixie in the Cerea time-line might triple the frequency...
And an Umbra? Wow, don't see those often in fanfiction. They are kind of obscure so it's nice to see this. Rarity was very badass in that fight. Stuff you write legend about. Or make a movie out of the book.
Woah, there, Rarity! I'm not a fan of con people myself, but there's no need to be that harsh. If they want to try on dresses or consider transitioning, there's nothing wrong with that!
...I mean, they probably just wanted to resell it at a ridiculous price, but it's the principle of the thing. Trans rights!
She set her fillyfriend on fire!?
Delightful! My only nitpick is mathematical: if there are four mares in Ponyville that use it and 200 in Equestria as a whole, if access is equal, that would mean Equestria would have only 50 times the population of Ponyville: which means Equestria probably has less people than Albuquerque. Seems small.
This reminds me of the following:
Also, isn't Celestia supposed to be a very, very, very pale pink?
10310120
For any other unicorn, this would be a serious issue, but Rares has an advantage, her special gem finding talent. What are gems but specific types
of minerals? A little talk with Maud Pie, and she could probably adapt her talent to find any mineral she needs.
10310410
OF COURSE an author can make the law anything they want. IMO, you start with Earth laws & customs as the default. If the author doesn't explicitly change them, I assume that's more or less the EQ law.
10310627
Yep, IMO Estee dropped at least 3 decimal points.
Still, given the price, it's NOT just "ponies that have that hair type". It's "Ponies with that hair type who are willing AND able to spend that kind of money on a frivolous luxury."
You want a sequel? Blueblood fits in that group. Sooner or later, he will find out that Rarity still has a supply.
10310740
I see the humor didn't translate. But, that said, our laws, morality, and ethics are only the way they are due to our sociopolitical history. Happenstance, ultimately based on our biology at its root in the very distant past. Every single part of what I just said is wildly different for the Equestrians than us. Why wouldn't the law, based on these completely different factors, also be different? Logic says they must be, even. Especially for a herd-based species approaching post-scarcity.
Twilight's Alicorn Apothecary
Recreating Cosmetic Products since Rarity
10310599
Zecora, duck... You're black and white. That literally goes with any colour. A fact I explictly used for to advantage for the entire rear left half, explictly so they would be mix-and-match suitable for doing multiple factions.
(Linked because I still have never figured out out to do collapsable images in this posting system, if anypony would like to enlighten me...)
You could totally pull off coquelicot.
10310740
"Earth laws?"
I am not aware that that exists as concept, as the closest Earth has is international law. Is that where that paragrah comes from?
10310418 What is an umbra? I tried Googling it and I got a sword, a wizard-looking guy, and cards. Lots and lots of cards.
10310868 First: while both the colors black and white do indeed go with anything, zebra stripes only go with one thing: zebras.
Second: I think the implication was that it had turned Zecora black-and-red.
(Edit: I just realized I posted twice instead of simply posting in one comment and now I am unreasonably annoyed.)
10310868
I'm an American. By "Earth laws", I mean "the laws of the USA"
10310874
Glances at the front-most portion of the aforemention image.
Black-and-red. I still fail to see the problem. (Black and-colour or white and-colour works even better than black-and-white-and-colour, even.)
Heck, it's been good enough for Dennis the Menance (no, US readers, not that one, the other one), Minnie the Minx and Roger the Dodger for several decades.
Black-and-red Zebra stripes would be fracking cool.
Edit: The internet did not fail me: scratch that, it IS cool.
i.pinimg.com/originals/ca/d0/74/cad0744b333aeadbc01da390ab3ae8f7.jpg
...
Okay, so why does THIS picture have a click-to-spoiler option and the ones I upload from my image hosting or Steam doesn't?!
10310876
I've tried for a good while to put this as diplomatically as possible, given this is Estee's comment section; but I'm afraid current events compel me to challenge that the assuption of a default standard for a faction is behavior that should be encouraged and not called out, even in trivial forms; lest it become endemic in mindset to cause much large problems later.
There. That's my Best British Diplomacy.
As to the basic idea behind the story; Ain't it the truth!
10310876
There are countries that don't follow US law?! But they've created such a kind and easy-going country with no glaring faults or impending doom!
10310910
Hey, AFAIK, the USA is the ONLY former British colony that
Does NOT play cricket!
This alone proves that we are Irredeemably Evil
And this is why the alternate title should be "Lather, Rinse, Repeat."
The shampoo that I use was also discontinued about 3 years agoish and it is like the only one that doesn't leave me sneezing from the smell. I didn't catch immediately when it went away so it cost me like three times what it was worth to get my supply of it which will run out in about 4 years. Good thing about shampoo is it takes a decade+ to go bad.
This story showed Rarity and how resourceful, determined and stubborn she can be. I particularly liked the scene where she single-hoofedly (yes, that is a word) defeated the umbra, then ensured all her friends were safe and got them home. All while having a fabulous mane and working incessantly to find her unique shampoo.
But Twilight stood out as the true friend here. First in trying to reassure Rarity, then helping search and advising her actions and empathizing with her. And finally, doing what only a good friend would do...spend time and effort and risk bodily injury and hearing loss. I hope she doesn't have that much trouble with the hoof polish.
This was a very funny and heart warming story. And I love Rarity so that made it even better! Thank you, Estee!
10310868
Oh sorry, I made a mistake, the creature I was talking about is an Umbrum, a shadow pony.
In the IDW comics, there was this series where they explored the origin of Sombra and his later his redemption. Basically, Sombra was part Umbra, a race of smoke and like ponies that wanted to rule the world I think. Once every year, there was a celebration with the Crystal Heart in the Crystal Kingdom and Sombra, a little orphan, couldn't go a the festivities because he was sick with maddening pain because we learn later on that the effects the Heart has is hurtful to Umbrum.
They never made any more appearances beside that comic run and I think they were supposed to be something like the Pony of Shadow or the thing that possessed Luna a thousand years ago.
I basically miss-remembered the name and thought Estee made a reference to them in this story. Sorry.
10310291
You see this is where the magic of nepotism comes to save the day
10311084
Celestia quietly buys the patent from the company after she gets a friendship letter from Twilight? I can see that.
I find it deeply hilarious that when all is said and done, Pinkie Pie is by far the most sane and well-adjusted of the Bearers.
10311150
She might be the most random pony in all of Equestria, but you're right, she's the most sane of the bunch. (Well, as far as the Mane 6 go; Spike's had his moments too.)
10311071
The MLP comics have been very good except for anything remotely close to Sombra, where they have become unilaterally awful more quickly than Superman's powers vanish when exposed to Krytonite.
The Siege of the Crystal Empire should have been amazing, but instead was my miles the worst pony comic (offically or otherwise) I have had the misfotune of reading.
I would not hold it against you for having blotted it out of your memory entirely, let alone merely misremebered.
"her father on a international fishing trip"
"her father on an international fishing trip"?
"voice and affections while doing"
"voice and affectations while doing"?
Years ago, there was a brand of chocolate pudding in a can. It was by far my favorite treat. I'd have one every week.
And one day I couldn't find it. I shrugged and went on my way, thinking they'd just sold out.
I couldn't find it the next day, or the next week, or the next month. I can still taste it, even after 10+ years. I don't even know the brand name, (I identify products more by color/shape).
It's the only thing that I religiously bought, that nothing else could compare. And they discontinued it. I can definitely feel Rarity's pain here.
10311228
The idea for the origin of Sombra was a good one with potential. It's the rest that was botched.
The only other Sombra stuff that was good from the comics was the good Mirror Sombra Celestia was into.
10311172
10311150
Mirror, mirror off the wall
Who's the sanest of them all?
IMO, Applejack.
10311285
I would have to strongly disagree on both of those points.
Trying to foist off bad people as being always from Not Your Species (be it human or pony) is an inherently REALLY bad idea (which the comics had a tendancy to do). Humans have ENOUGH trouble with factionalism as it IS, without compounding the idea even more by encouraging the monkey brain's "us" and "not-us over there" response.
Fortunately, the show itself was smart enough to do a MUCH better job with Sombra in his glorious one episode, and also to give us Cozy Glow for good measure, which made up for the comic's bizarre blindspot.
10311255
Del Monte is the brand you're thinking of. I believe they stopped making the cans right around the time Del Monte sold their pudding division to Kraft Foods, sometime in the early 90s.
10311295
Eh... I mean, Applejack's not the worst. Rainbow Dash is in seventeen different kinds of denial at once, often about exactly how much denial she's in about the other kinds of denial, and her Ego is sufficiently huge that it's developed an independent personality and social life. Twilight Sparkle is the poster-child for OCD and swings terrifyingly quickly from the poster child for low self-esteem to the most self-assured insufferable genius alive, depending on whether or not Spike's nearby with a bucket of water. And Rarity is, in the immortal phrase, "One enchanted sewing device accident away from becoming a supervillain."
Applejack, though... anger issues, trust issues, an ego that's only slightly below Rainbow Dash when you scratch the surface of it, and she somehow balances being the Element of Honesty with a near-pathological inability to actually be honest in any conversation involving magic, her family, or her own shortcomings.
I'm sorry, I gotta give the prize to Pinkie Pie, if only because she's the only Bearer to have recognized her abusive past and taken steps to deal with it. Wouldn't surprise me to learn she's gone to Therapy, with the level of insight she shows.