This is how it usually goes — you arrive at the airport in your tracksuit (fingers crossed it is at least ironed), half-asleep and definitely not in your best form. No makeup, barely a hairstyle, just hoping to get through security quickly and grab at least an over-roasted coffee to help with the puffiness on your face.

And then you see them — the cabin crew gliding past with their little suitcases, posture so perfect it is as if they have all been through modelling school, heels clicking against the floor in what might just be the prettiest sound in the terminal. They look… effortlessly stunning.

But why do they dress like this? Is it about comfort, or is it a strict requirement? And do they actually love their uniform? Let’s find out.

At first glance, it might seem as though nothing has really changed — we still see flight attendants in knee-length skirts or dresses, neat neck scarves and polished heels (why, though?). Yet in a field as conservative as aviation, even small adjustments are meaningful.

1930s–1940s

During this era, flight attendants were regarded more as technicians or nurses on board than hosts in the sky. Their uniforms drew inspiration from military attire — both in colour and fabric — and for good reason. Early aircraft were drafty and often cold, so functionality came first. One distinctive feature of the time was the cap that covered the ears, which actually made perfect sense: early cabins weren’t pressurised or sound-insulated, so protection against noise and cold was essential.

1950s–1970s

This was the golden age of air travel — when flying wasn’t just about getting from A to B, but about the glamour that came with it. Airlines weren’t only selling you a ticket; they were selling a dream. Some even brought in top fashion designers — Christian Dior, Emilio Pucci, Balenciaga — the biggest names were quite literally dressing the skies.

But behind all that glamour was a reflection of how women were perceived at the time. Let’s just say feminism hadn’t quite taken off yet, and the uniforms mirrored society’s expectations: service-oriented, graceful, and perfectly composed. Skirts grew shorter, silhouettes tighter, and before long, go-go boots made their debut.

1980s–1990s

As feminism took hold, flight attendant uniforms moved away from eye-catching designs towards something far more practical. The shift was most visible in the colour palette — navy, grey and maroon — and in the silhouettes: sharp lines, structured shoulders and neat pencil skirts. The focus turned from glamour to professionalism, as uniforms began to project confidence and equality.

2000s–Today

Modern uniforms now strike a careful balance between style, comfort and safety. Safety? They are fire-resistant and highly functional. Comfort? The fabrics are lighter, softer and far more flexible, with gentler cuts and a less rigid silhouette. Yet, even as they have become more wearable and fashion-forward, the uniform remains a defining symbol of the airline’s identity — and often a subject of both public fascination and critique.

Why are trousers not part of the uniform for female cabin crew?

As with most things in aviation, there are several reasons behind it.

However, it is not quite as strict anymore — in fact, trousers are slowly but surely making their way into the skies, and airlines introducing them are being praised for their modern approach, inclusivity, and openness.

Here are a few examples:

I hate when people judge things without knowing anything about them. And the same goes here — how can we comment on a cabin crew uniform without actually hearing from someone who has worn it? That is why I spoke to my friend T, a former flight attendant who spent three years working for one of the major Middle Eastern airlines.

— If you could change one detail in the uniform for comfort, what would it be?

— The most uncomfortable part? Definitely the shoes. They are such an important piece of the uniform, yet somehow they have never managed to make a pair that is actually comfortable. I could never wear the ones we were given, so I always bought my own — as long as they met the airline’s uniform standards. Thousands of girls do the same. Technically, you can get reimbursed if you go through the process, but I never bothered. In theory, you are also meant to send your chosen pair for approval before wearing them, but again — I didn’t. There are a few well-known brands that are already pre-approved, so I never stressed too much about it.

— And what is the best part of the uniform? Something that is really well designed?

— I actually think the fabric is really well thought out. It is water-repellent on the skirt, jacket, and waistcoat — which we change into for service — and that is a real lifesaver on board. Things spill all the time, and it is brilliant that even red wine can usually be brushed straight off. It isn't foolproof, and you do have to react quickly, but overall the material cleans easily and hardly ever stains.

— Did you like your uniform?

— Yes, I did. I never really worried about how I looked — I always felt neat and put together. The only problem was the buttons on the jacket and waistcoat — they were never sewn on properly and had a habit of falling off at the worst possible moments. It was annoying until you could get them stitched back on.

— Is it difficult to take care of the uniform?

— Not at all. In the main office — and even in some of the crew accommodations or nearby — there is a free laundry service where you can drop off your uniform before or after a shift. We are given several sets — a few skirts, blouses, waistcoats, and two jackets — so sending one off to be cleaned is never an issue. It always comes back freshly washed and pressed, so you rarely need to do anything yourself.

The only downside for me was the smell — I never liked the scent from the laundry, and the uniform didn’t always feel that fresh. So later on, I started washing it at home. It only took about ten or fifteen minutes to steam everything, and I’d always do it ahead of time so I wouldn’t be stressing before a flight.