Six Broken Ponies: Aspirations
~BlackRoseRaven
Diamonds, pearls, so many other gemstones… they come from coals, and rocks, and ugly, filthy, dirty sources. But under pressure, they harden and become crystalline with the passage of enough years and after applying enough force. No diamond is born a diamond… it begins life as nothing but a lump of coal.
Ponies are of the same mold: we are born into this world without etiquette, nothing but crying, whimpering little bundles without any knowledge of being proper, neat, or polite. It is only through years of tedious work that we can achieve dignity and respect… and escape the shameful process of our birth and often, the even-worse days of our childhood.
Oh, no. I'm not saying that I lived a bad life, au contraire: I know that I have been fortunate. Yet all my life has been a struggle to become something more, something… greater. Even from a very young age, I longed to be part of the upper class, felt that I was destined for nobility, for something… special. I knew that I was to be part of a world of glitz and glamour, and I deserved it. I deserved it, with how hard I worked, refining myself over days and weeks and months and years from my humble beginnings into what I am today.
I own my own fashion boutique, I specialize in magnificent dresses for equally-magnificent clients, my list of clientele stretches all over Equestria, from Manehatten to Canterlot itself, and I have been listed as an up-and-comer upon the fashion scene in countless magazines. Yet… something always holds me back. Something holds me down in Ponyville, despite everything… keeps me from achieving the very heights of my potential.
Perhaps it is my roots… not the roots here, but my background, my family, I do not know. Simple ponies… not fashionable or glamorous ponies… perhaps even a little poor. Maybe that's why I was always so fascinated with the fashion magazines… my life growing up in Ponyville, in hinted squalor, before my sister Sweetie Belle was born. Rarity, the special little girl, with her parents who were out of fashion even before disco came along.
I did not like being poor. I did not like being unfashionable and uncouth. And yet my parents… did not seem to mind it, for some reason or another. They lived happily, they shared generously, they did not seem to understand nor care about the fact that they were giving away more than they had often earned or that they were living in a distinct lack of abundance. I, for one, found a deep appreciation in the value of money and gemstones… and moreover, my low station in life drove me all the harder to becoming what I am today.
Yes, I am part of the beautiful world, I am one of the beautiful ponies, and I love the way that so many others look to me for my superior knowledge of fashion and poise. It is exactly the world I've always wanted to be in, it is. There's… absolutely nothing at all wrong with everything around me, and I'm very proud of myself. I'm… always… so proud…
Oh… why lie? Why bother anymore, I can't lie to myself, so why should I keep up this façade with others? I understand that sometimes I can be overdramatic – it's all part of my special charm – but even I hold some things in, you know, and to admit to everyone else that maybe after all these years, I was wrong… oh, I couldn't stand the indignity and the embarrassment, it would ruin me.
At first, it was wonderful… but then, more and more, I started to realize something, as I sat in on this fashion world. It was that the same kinds of people always got to be the most famous… bossy, and more importantly, those who had money and connections, and lots of both. They surrounded themselves with a following of idolaters and fanatics, and they became a voice in the fashion world, they preened so arrogantly and with such pride that it began to seem like yes, absolutely anything they say or do, why, it must be the nouveau high fashion!
The glitz, the glamour… more and more, I began to see it was nothing but… crepe paper and glitter. The 'geniuses' of our time were nothing but pedantic, bossy little children who stole the best ideas of their own sycophants and claimed it for their own. But I was determined all the same to climb to the pinnacle of the fashion world, I knew it was my destiny, and I would… I would do it the right way, using my own fashion designs, never giving in to temptation, making more than enough money to pay for even the most posh and trendy materials while spreading a reputation throughout Equestria as the greatest designer this side of the world!
And yet, every time eyes began to draw upon me from near and far… the short attention span of the fashion world would kick in, and it would be immediately back to some new hotshot designer, or one of the popular – and rich, need I say rich? – icons of our time. To their fantastic fashion shows populated by the best audience money can buy… money, money, money, that's what life's all about. Money, and popularity… it's what gives you power in the fashion world. And power is what gives you respect… and above all, oh, I want their respect…
I've done my time, trudging through the mud and filth, eating moldy hay and bruised apples. I deserve more, I deserve much better! And yet… yet… how it hurts, when I look back on those old times. Mother and father… smiling. Sweetie Belle, my little sister, is always happy with them, they treat her so very well… they treated me so well, yet I moved out to my own boutique the moment I scrounged together the money, even… even though much of it was generously given to me – not loaned, given – by my parents.
What… what a lack of business sense they have, right? What… oh, Rarity. What a low thing to say, you're as bad as those leeches you admire. Isn't that what I've always wanted to be, though? Beautiful, outside, a shining star of beauty wrapped in expensive fabrics and glittering gemstones… and yet all that glitters is not gold. Oh, how I've come to understand that so well… too well, as a matter of fact.
But I've come too far to give up now. I have to make it to the top of the pyramid, the apex of the temple of fashion, the high throne on the tottering tower of the sparkling world of high design… I have to, I will, I must! Otherwise, I'll have to admit that I was wrong about everything, and go back to… peddling dresses and costume jewelry for the common folk of Ponyville, giving up all those fabulous clients. Those fabulous, rich clients I've gone to the very ends of the earth for, who… argued, of course, for low prices, and I had no real choice but to agree… who… sometimes returned my outfits, demanding a full refund, for a sequin that was out of place, or a missing button that was obviously torn off, or a glitch in a gemstone pattern. And who often don't pay me until the very last second or… well… at all.
They recommend me, though, to their friends, to their high-standing associates… and that helps even it out, doesn't it? More work, my name spread through famous channels, more people coming to little, out-of-the-way Ponyville to visit my flourishing boutique! And even if… I have to take out loans, and mother and father have to help me pay off the rent and the interest now and then, I'm… I'm on my way! I'm so far on my way… I'm a true fashionista, with great aspirations that will soon become reality, and then everyone will see when I move to Canterlot, away from this tiny little mud-speck of a town and… and… I…
I don't know. A lady should never be unsure, and yet I am. I feel like I'm sitting at a table in a gambling parlor, so deep in the hole that the only thing I can do is hope for a wild winning hand that lets me break even… begging, praying, for that perfect twenty-one in blackjack that signals the once-in-a-lifetime defeat of the house in favor of the player. It has to be my destiny, doesn't it? And yes, I'm in debt to the banks, I'm behind on my bills, but… if I only sell one or two more outfits, it'll all be worthwhile. It's my own fault, really. I'm too generous, too trusting, but… it's not like there's a lot that can be done, either. If I say no to these very powerful people, I'm putting my entire future at risk, and exposure and publicity is worth the cost, isn't it? I already lost one rich client asking for payment up front… they know I'm no important designer yet, just some backwater hick in a little village that's barely on the map, and that I'm so desperate that one sale could make or break me. I just… have to trust in this fake world. This glimmering, glitzy world… at least part of it has to be real, right? There has to be some trust, some honor, some integrity…
And some days, when I'm sitting in my boutique after closing, looking out the window… sometimes I see Sweetie Belle, or my parents. Sometimes I see Rainbow Dash, who lives in the clouds and doesn't have to worry about bills, probably the most carefree of us all… or Twilight, who calls the library her home. Or Applejack… probably the poorest of us all, and yet she seems… happy on that farm, out there. Just like my parents were happy in their dedicated squalor…
And here I live in an ivory tower, a gilded golden cage… debts ever piling up higher on my head, trying desperately to put my faith into a world I know is make-believe, its glamorous buildings nothing but painted cardboard, its wide streets nothing but twinkling garbage, plastic and candy wrappers. I look around me, and the other people walking down that path are all wearing blindfolds and halters that are tied to ugly carriages of steel, upon which stand the titans of the fashion world… and yet all they are, are lazy, pedantic thieves, stealing from each other as they scream through microphones, eagerly tearing through trends like wolves through the forest.
My pride won't let me stop, though. Not until I reach the end of the path, until I climb the hill, and finally reach that golden castle in the distance. And maybe, just maybe, it'll be real gold… and the real ponies that live in it will accept me into their midst and raise me to the level of fashion savior, and I'll be rich, and famous, and happy, and with my money and my reputation I'll… I'll… pay off my debts and… then…
Then what? Always… the first thing that comes to mind is give the money to my parents, or… my friends. Share it with them… give it to them. Why don't I think of caviar and catnip, of gold and gemstones, of building a vast boutique in Canterlot and an even bigger mansion? Why is it, that in my heart of hearts, I hear myself saying these things and yet never believe it… never believe I'll make it, never believe that even if I did get the chance… no. No, no, no, this is merely… foolishness talking. Perhaps I'm tired, yes… that must be it. There's so much out there for me… I'm so close to achieving my dreams.
My dreams, all mine… all my hopes, my fantasies. The world looks bleak right now, but… I'm sure it'll change. I'm sure it'll truly be a world of riches, fantasies, and glamour. I'm sure all I have to do is keep pressing forwards, and one day, I'll be one of the best of the best, living with people who… are better for me. In a place that's… that is better for me. Yes. Of course… everything will be… better.
I am a shining star in the world of fashion, destined for the top, the very apex of the glorious world of modeling and design. I'll be a mover and shaker, a genius, I'll achieve my dreams, pay off my debts, and be rich and famous. I'll do it all myself, and nothing else will ever stop me… I'll do it all myself, for myself, and I don't need Ponyville… I need Canterlot. I will reach Canterlot. And I'll be famous, I'll be respected, I'll be loved…