Dressmakers
It all started with a dress.
Not even a terribly good dress, at least by Rarity’s appraisal. She didn’t really care for it, but the socks fad was in full swing, and she needed something in that vein so she wouldn't appear to be behind the times. It was a simple number, grey and minimalist and just a little bit risque, but not so much it couldn't be worn in good company. So she threw it together over a weekend, named it the Grey Mare, brought it to Canterlot, and spent her customary Sunday evening in the store catching up with Sassy Saddles before the Monday opening.
It wasn’t until that next morning that Rarity realized something was wrong. A customer had come in, looking for something hip, and Rarity had reluctantly indulged them. The fad was not flattering, but the dress was an excellent example of the archetype, and it pleased Rarity to see how happy the mare was with the work. She tried it on, liked it, bought it, and walked out with it, leaving Rarity with a few hundred bits and good warm feeling. Then she turned back to the stand, thinking to refill it with a new work.
The dress was still there. Grey socks, little fetching hat, frilly skirt and all, waiting to be sold.
Rarity frowned. She looked to the window, thinking that the customer had somehow returned the dress in the fraction of a second her back was turned. But there she was up the street, clothed in her latest purchase. She looked back to the stand, and her frown deepened. Then she turned her head up. “Sassy?”
“Yes, Rarity?” Sassy called from the little office upstairs. She usually did the books Monday, taking into account all the new instructions Rarity had given her the previous night.
“Could you come out here for a moment?” Rarity waited until Sassy had appeared at the top of the steps, and then gestured at the stand and its inexplicable dress. “Did you do something to this dress stand? Or the dress itself?”
“No. I think I learned my lesson about tampering with your creative process.” Sassy shook her head, and she started down the steps to look more closely. “Why? Is something wrong with it?”
“I’m not sure,” Rarity admitted. “Except, I just sold this dress to a customer. I saw them walk away with it. And yet when I turned back… here it was again.”
“Ah.” Sassy nodded. “No, I see the problem. You sold a Grey Mare. That’s the Grey Mare.”
“I’m sorry?” Rarity asked, her ears tilting up. “I don’t understand. I only made this dress once.”
“Well, of course! You made your feelings on repeat dresses very clear back when we started.” Sassy gave a little smile, and nodded towards Rarity. “But, ponies wanted outfits with socks, so it occurred to me, why not skip all that nonsense? Just make the dress once and call that that. Besides, I doubt anypony could top what you’ve done here. It’s a flawless example of the medium.”
“Sassy…” Rarity raised a hoof for silence. “Yes, thank you, that’s all very well and good, I’m glad you like it, but where did the second dress come from?”
“There is only one dress,” Sassy explained. “And that’s it in front of you. The Grey Mare.” Seeing her employer’s frown, Sassy paused and spoke more slowly. “You know. Like how there’s only one Royal Seal of Equestria. You can put it on a stamp, or on a document, or on a newspaper, or on whatever else you like. But it’s the same seal.”
“So… what?” Rarity asked, looking between the stand and her store manager. “It’s magic? You enchanted the stand?”
“No. That’s just how the world works.” Sassy looked as confused as Rarity. “Celestia doesn’t have to enchant every stamp and seal and official document. You can make a copy of the royal seal however you like. But only she has the Royal Seal. And only you have the Grey Mare.”
“And if another pony walks in and tries to buy it?” she demanded. “Will it keep making more copies?”
“Well…” Sassy looked to the door. Her ears flicked back a few degrees. “I guess that depends on if they want to buy the Grey Mare itself, or if they want to buy a dress. There’s only one Grey Mare. But you can sell as many dresses as you like.”
And so Rarity did the only thing she could do. She fired Sassy. The mare was clearly mad. After some thought, she threw the dress and stand away, reasoning that it was unwise to keep enchanted objects about the store.
It was several weeks more before Rarity heard Sassy’s name again. She was opening a new store across town, and generating her usual fanfare. All the ponies of note were invited, including Rarity herself. Rarity scanned the missive long enough to decide she didn’t want to attend. No designers names were listed, and it wasn’t in the good part of town. Just another low-end clothing store. She put the invitation to one side, and put it out of her mind.
She had other things to think about in any case. The fashion industry was booming in Canterlot. It had always been a town that favored decoration, but suddenly, clothing was in. Nudity was for peasants. “The clothes make the mare,” the saying was. Rarity had never heard such a phrase before, but she was hardly in a position to object. Her store was always busy, and while her replacement manager Rack Spin wasn’t quite as efficient as Sassy, she was always able to bring Rarity good news.
Until she wasn’t, anyway. It took a few months, and it was hard to see. The store was always busy whenever Rarity visited. But Rack was asking for less replacement inventory every month, and the rate of sales reflected that. Ponies were in the store, and they were obviously loving the designs, but they weren’t buying them. Window-shopping. Eventually, when it became clear that Rack was not going to fix things on her own, Rarity showed up to see to the problem herself, and found a young mare admiring one of her creations.
“It’s gorgeous,” the mare said. Rarity agreed. It was one of her better creations—a light and breezy number, brushed with a handful of pearls to give it that taste of nobility. “Gosh, I wish I could have it.”
“Why, you can,” Rarity assured her. “I can ring it up for you right now if you’d like.”
“Oh, no.” The mare had the decency to look embarrassed at least, adding a bit of blush to her cheeks. “It’s lovely, but I don’t think I can justify the price. It’s a bit rich for my blood, you know?”
Rarity saw here the problem. Changing tastes were a part of the fashion industry, after all, and price was a part of that. “What price would you think is fair?”
“Oh… well. It is of an exceptional quality…” The mare considered. “Perhaps fifty bits?”
Rarity blanched. The mare was obviously new to fashion. The dress was probably the first outfit she’d ever seriously looked at. “That dress contains over a hundred bits worth of fabric alone. Not to mention the pearls.”
“Oh, well. They’re selling dresses a lot like that for twenty-five bits downtown. They’re not quite as good as this one of course, but… yeah. I don’t think I could pay more than double the going rate.” The mare laughed. “I mean, you design for the Princesses, right? I’m not a Princess.”
Rarity agreed that she was not. But in the weeks that followed, Rarity’s customers increasingly were. Twilight bought dresses in her store, as did Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and a hooffull of other noble ponies who insisted on having the very best. Those customers were reliable. But while the store got busier, sales continued to fall. Out the window, Rarity could see ponies festooned with all manner of clothing and accessories: dresses, pants, hats, saddles, jewelry and eyeglasses that didn’t help ponies see. It was a boom time, but Rarity’s business wasn’t booming. Soon, she knew, she’d be struggling to make rent on her Canterlot location. So she reached out to her designer friends for help: Coco Pomel, Back Stitch, and the others.
But they were not doing any better than her. One by one, they confessed to sharing her troubles. The market was flooded with designs that cost less than the fabric that composed them. The same sayings, advertisements, and posters that made ponies want to buy clothes made them want to own multiple sets. Owning one dress was fine if it was worn once a season, but Rarity’s fine creations could hardly be worn every day.
And so, Rarity decided to go downtown, and to see her former employee.
Her store was not a store at all. It was a warehouse, with its heavy loading doors left open to the public. Crowds of ponies gathered around those gates, clad in all manner of finery—swarming like brilliantly colored insects. Rarity could hear the strangest noises from within: a buzzing like wasps, a hiss like angry snakes, and the chimes of unseen bells. None of the ponies around her seemed bothered. None of them even seemed to notice her. Laughing and giggling, they went about their way, until Rarity made it through the doors.
A cavern opened before her then. Three levels she could see in the warehouse, with the middle cut open to leave them all visible from below. There were rows upon rows of outfits. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them on stands, all arranged facing the middle so the each could be seen from below. No two were the same, each perched upon a neat row for easier access. But there was more iron in that cavern than fabric. Steam engines hissed in the back, whirling and hissing, their boiling excess leaving the air hot and humid. Electrical cables fell from busses on the ceiling, and impaled the ground like spears, the distinctive humm that surrounded them revealing the life within. Machines beeped, and whistled, and chimed on some unseen pattern.
And yet, as far as Rarity could see, there was no point to it all. The engines turned nothing. The electrical cables powered no lights, and connected to no generators. The machines beeped and chimed unattended.
“Rarity!” called a voice to her left. Turning, she saw Sassy not far away, mixed in with a group of the swarming creatures. Pushing herself away from her customers, she crossed the distance in a few quick steps. “Goodness, what are you doing here?”
“I just… thought I’d stop by,” Rarity managed to say. With effort, she swallowed. “It’s been awhile. And we didn’t part on the best terms. I thought I’d see how my old manager was doing for herself.”
“Of course!” She excused herself from the customers she’d been speaking with, and gestured Rarity deeper into the warehouse. “It’s actually nice to see you again. Things have been going well here, as I’m sure you can tell, but I do have such fond memories of Canterlot Boutique. It’s hard not to care about how it’s doing.”
“So no hard feelings about being fired then?” Together they walked along rows of dresses that were seemingly without end. Rarity’s critical eye turned upon them. Not all of them were bad. Some were even quite good.
“Oh, not at all!” Sassy nodded. “We had different visions of how fashion worked. That was your call to make. And besides! It worked out for the best.” She indicated the rows of dresses all around them. “Business is booming. We just opened a Manehatten location two months ago.”
“I know. Coco told me.” Rarity took a moment to collect herself. The hot air made it hard to get a good breath, and her skin already felt damp from the steam. It was no condition for a clothing store. “She was very curious where you’re getting all your fabric.”
“Oh, I don’t buy fabric.” She waved the comment away. “That’s for real designers. Like you! I buy the dresses directly.”
“Coco told me that too,” Rarity said, looking out over the customers. None of them seemed to notice the heat or humidity. “She said that you offered her ten-thousand bits for one of her dresses. But that after you bought it, she wasn’t able to make it any more. Whenever she tried, she ended up with an ugly pile of fabric.”
“Well, of course,” Sassy agreed. “It’s my dress now. Coco knows better than to steal somepony else’s designs. You taught her that, if I remember correctly. She told me lots of stories about you.”
“I’m sure she did.” They came to a set of wrought-iron steps, twisting upwards through the structure. Sassy took them without a thought, and Rarity followed. Moving up through the levels, the styles on display changed. Pants. Hats. Saddle-cloths. Traditional wear. “So, you just buy other ponies’ ideas and replicate them?”
“No no. I add quite a bit! These dresses don’t market themselves after all. And I have some very clever and creative ponies on staff.” She tittered, and leaned in to stage-whisper to Rarity. “Don’t tell anypony, but we’ve got something in the works for next month that is absolutely brilliant. Seasonal fashion! Dresses just for that one season!”
“Seasonal fashion has been around since the founding of Equestria.” Rarity tilted her ears back. “That’s hardly new.”
“Ah, but our dresses disintegrate exactly three months after you buy them.” That made her giggle again. “Isn’t it brilliant? We’re going to sell them for twenty bits each. If it works, we’re even considering a weekly version. Tell ponies,” she took Rarity’s shoulder, and cast a wide hoof out to the space, “‘Never wear the same dress twice!’ It’s gauche you know.”
“Princess Platinum, ruler of the entire Unicorn Kingdom, only owned four dresses.” Rarity said slowly. Her face was drawn. “Each one was perfect. She said they were all like old companions to her.”
“Paisley and poplin, Rarity! This isn’t the tribal era. You know tastes change. I’ve been watching some of your new work. It’s very chic.” She gave a little sigh as they reached the top of the steps. Assorted mare’s fashion, it seemed. An odd mix of purses and bonnets and shawls. “Honestly, when I worked for you, I think I took your genius for granted. Selling some of these pieces is an uphill struggle. Your work sells itself.”
“Actually, it doesn’t.” Rarity corrected her. “The Boutique has been struggling. Prices for clothing are going through the floor.”
“Oh, that’s terrible!” Sassy paused in her steps to look over at Rarity. “You’re not going to have to close, are you?”
“I might. If things keep getting worse. I only have a hoof full of regulars left.” She cleared her throat. “It’s very hard to compete with somepony who doesn’t have to pay for fabric or… or anything else.”
“Oh,” Sassy frowned. “Bobbins and bodkins, Rarity. Is that why you came here? You didn’t need to do that. Of course I’ll help support your boutique. I know we’ve had our differences, but I’d like to think we’re still friends. You taught me about the Rules of Rarity, remember?” She smiled. “And, let’s not beat about the bush, you are the very best. I’d trade a hundred of these dresses for one authentic Rarity.”
“Oh.” Rarity tried to smile, but the gesture came out weak. The oppressive heat clung to her coat, and drops of water were forming along her mane and tail. How the dresses weren’t ruined by the conditions were a mystery to her. None of the swarming creatures seemed to notice the temperature at all. They were just there. Laughing and admiring each other in the fabric. “That’s good.”
“In fact… here! This way.” Sassy took several quick steps, moving them up the row. Socks were soon the order of things, outfit after outfit embracing the old fad. “Remember this? Awful, I know. But they have a few die-hard devotees. It’s so hard to do right though. Sultry but not suggestive. You really nailed it with the Grey Mare. Better than anypony else I’ve seen.”
“That’s good…” Rarity managed, but even the weak smile soon faded.
“How about I buy it?” Sassy offered, with an upbeat little twitch of her ears. “I’ll give you ten—no. Twenty thousand bits for the Grey Mare.”
Rarity paused.
“If I sell it to you,” she asked, “will I forget how to make it myself?”
“Of course!” Sassy replied. “If you sold it to me, it would be mine. And you know better than to steal other ponies designs.”
Rarity’s breath caught in her throat. She struggled to speak. “You can’t buy creativity, Sassy.”
“But I can!” she replied, so cheerful, with just that hint of the civilized Canterlot accent. “And I do! Every day.”
“I don’t know what you are or how you’re doing this,” Rarity’s voice rose, and a tremble carried behind it. “But I’ll get Twilight and the others. The Princesses. They’ll stop you.”
Sassy tittered, lifting a hoof to cover her mouth. “Summon the Royal Sisters and the Elements of Harmony to shut down a dress store? Oh, Rarity. You are dramatic.” She lowered her hoof, revealing a friendly smile. “Though, really, I thought you’d be happy.” She nudged her muzzle out towards the open space. “You like making dresses, don’t you? That’s the fun part? The sewing and tending shop was… Well. It’s just what you go through to pay the bills.”
She indicated Rarity with a small flick of her tail. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To make your living creating beautiful dresses? All I’m really doing is offering you a chance to cut out the middle pony.”
“And if I sell you the Grey Mare, what happens to all the other designers who make outfits with socks!?” Rarity demanded, her voice rising to a shout.
“Why, they compete for the business, I suppose. Though I’d be happy to purchase their designs too. Assuming they’re good. Unique. I hardly have a use for inferior work. Not when I can buy the real thing. A hundred knockoffs aren’t worth one authentic article to me.” She reached out to nudge one of the stands, adjusting it slightly on its base. “I grant, some of them probably won’t enjoy it. But the very best designers will do fantastically well. And you are the very best, Rarity. I always knew that.”
“So that’s your vision of what fashion is!?” Rarity demanded. The heat was becoming stifling. Choking. She coughed to try and draw breath. “All the designers of Equestria fighting for the right to have you run their designs into the ground? Ponies competing for the privilege of seeing their creations turned generic?”
“Satin and silk, Rarity! You have a way of making everything sound bad. You don’t even like the Grey Mare.” She let out a little sigh, and put a hoof around Rarity’s shoulder, turning her to face the rows of dress stands. Rarity could hardly breathe. Water dripped from the ceiling and from Sassy’s hooves, as the crackle of electricity seemed to buzz directly in Rarity’s ears. “And here I’m offering you the opportunity to live your dream more than you ever could have before. To have an upscale boutique in Canterlot, without worrying about sales volume or fads or any of that nonsense. Free to create as your heart desires. Isn’t that what you want?”
Rarity’s jaw worked without a sound. Sassy spoke for her. “Go ahead. Twenty thousand bits for one fad dress you hated. It’s a good deal.” Rarity couldn't speak. “Just nod, dear.” Rarity nodded.
When she lifted her head, the old row of dresses were gone. No longer were there dozens of outfits with socks, but a small select number, all of which were tasteful. The Grey Mare held center stage, right in front of Rarity. There it was on its stand, just as she’d made it before.
Rarity reached out. She touched it. She tried to picture how it all went together. How she had sewn it piece by piece. But the memory wouldn't come.
“There. See?” Sassy smiled softly, and it was with wide eyes that Rarity looked up at her. “It’s better this way. This is the future, Rarity, and this boutique will never. Ever. Close.”
Rarity looked left, then right. At the hissing machines, the crackling lightning, the swarming creatures and the rows and rows of dresses. She screamed at the top of her lungs, and fled down the stairs as fast as her hooves would carry her. She shoved through the crowds, and past the machinery, and out the doors. She didn’t stop until the air became cool again, and clear, and quiet. She didn’t stop until she was back uptown, and ran straight to the train station. To Ponyville.
Twilight wanted to know if her new outfit looked good on her.
Rarity’s boutique sold few items that month, but it didn’t matter. She had no trouble making rent.