I wasn't the nicest mare in the fashion industry. In fact, I may have been one of the most pretentious and mean models in Canterlot. I did some things I'll regret for a while and that I'm not proud of.
I started out my modeling career when I was a very young filly. My mother, Mirror Shine, had taken me to a popular filly clothing store in Canterlot. That day a newer designer was directing the setup of his newest line. Mother loved the new clothes so much she decided I would have an outfit composed entirely of their design. "It is always better to be a trendsetter, then a trend-getter," she would say.
When the designer stallion saw me walk out of the dressing room in the barding he'd worked so hard to create it caught his attention. He rushed over, finishing the look with a big blue mane bow. While gushing about how well I complimented his designs he insisted I must model next week for a photoshoot. My mother pushed me into the job quickly and next thing I knew I had an agent, modelling lessons when I wasn't in school, and photoshoots every weekend. I became a model because of that designer. His name was Silken Saddle and I forgot him much too swiftly in my rise to fame.
I excelled at modelling, but even though I was talented at it I still didn't get my cutie mark for it. Mother would tell me that a lack of cutie mark at my age made me unique, but was bad at hiding her frustration. She wanted me to be a model so badly that the fact that I didn't get a cutie mark for it made her panic and push me to do more lessons and auditions. While I was beginning to get a little rebellious about modelling, her actions did help me get my cutie mark in the end.
Just like any model my looks defined my success. I had a grey coat and a short cropped black mane with purple strips, but it was really my bright green eyes that contrasted so greatly from the rest of my colors that seemed to draw the most attention. My looks didn't fit every clothing style so I was turned down for some jobs. When word released of an audition for a hugely popular brand that focused on frilly designs my mother panicked and took me to a salon to "tame" my look with hair dye.
It was horrible. I was all the wrong shades and my mane didn't bleach evenly. As expected, when I walked into the audition they laughed. After dealing with my mother, the salon, and the embarrassment of standing in front of the judges looking like I did - well, I snapped. My pride couldn't take any more abuse from ponies telling me how I wasn't good enough.
With my anger misdirected, I ranted at them about what I'd been through to try to appeal to their snobbish brand and while doing a rude mimicry of the type of girl they would want to model their line, tears in my eyes, they stopped laughing to gasp and stare. My horn had made my mimicry more accurate than I'd intended; my magic shimmered around me, turning my coat powder blue and my mane pastel pink. The newest and permanent addition to my look was a cute little skull and a blue bow. They contracted me for the job without seeing another model.
As a unicorn I'd never been very magically inclined, but apparently my magic was a big part of my special talent. I learned it was called "Changeling Magic." It was rare, but not completely uncommon according to the history books. I could change everything about my look except my bones. It took a lot of concentration because of my lack of magical background, but I was getting better at it with every different look I tried. Mother, of course, was ecstatic and I became the most wanted model faster than I could blink my long eyelashes.
My rebellious streak took over in full swing after a particularly exhausting day running between different photoshoots and arguing with mother about what brands I would promote. I knew modelling for "alternative" styles irritated her so I chose them over higher paying and popular brands. After I moved into my own apartment I made a public vow that I was no longer going to use my Changeling Magic for modeling jobs.
The alternative industry thought that was just fine considering my regular appearance fit their styles and luckily I'd gathered enough fame since the start of my career that designers from non-alternative big name brands would design more alternative barding just to get me on their runways. My actions amused people, giving me a boost in popularity that gave me more power over my jobs than most models got.
That's probably where my mean streak really started. After wrongfully placing the blame on the fashion industry I felt I was better than the rest of the doe-eyed mares that walked down the runway because of my choices. I treated them like they were lesser than me. Models seem to be particularly inclined towards cruelty, but how I treated other was appalling. It was a no wonder I'd never had a friend before.
My name is Vanity, and I'm not the hero of this story. I'm the villain.