How much does our fashion sense matter?
In certain moments, a lot.
We understand that when it’s a black-tie event, we better dress to the nines. And we don’t show up for the job interview in an AC/DC T-shirt and torn jeans.
But what about the rest of the time, when there are no wedding photographers to pose for or potential bosses to impress?
When informality fails to stick out like a sore thumb, how will we respond?
It’s a valid question in the wake of Leggingsgate — where a United Airlines gate agent barred a couple of young women from boarding a plane because they were wearing leggings.
The gate agent was technically justified in her action. The women were using their status as relatives of United employees to fly free, and this left them subject to a dress code. Still, the story led to widespread uproar. Uproar that only intensified when United doubled down on the policy and a rival airline poked fun at it.
This entire fiasco was bad optics for Untied (as a family friend likes to call them). But it also brought the issues plaguing our new society to a new realm — The Friendly Skies.
On one side of this battle are thousands of angry people — many of them women — fighting for the right to wear whatever they want while in the air. On the other side is United Airlines — who is trying to tell people what they can wear on board.
It’s a compelling battle. And both sides are wrong.
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Technically, we should be allowed to wear what we want, when we want. It is a free country, after all. But having the freedom to dress however we want and actually doing so are two different things — particularly when it comes to catching a flight.
Yes, air travel is a unique situation. We’re crammed in close quarters within a metal tube for several hours — and hundreds of strangers are judging us for the duration. How we look, how we act — and yes, whether we wear deodorant — nothing goes unnoticed.
This is an uncomfortable proposition to many travelers, so they go to great lengths to ignore the elephant in the room. They dress how and act how they want, in part, to put a barrier between them and the issue.
However, I view this situation air travel provides as something else — an opportunity.
A plane ride is a chance to make a good first impression for a new crowd of people. And it all starts with the way I dress.
So, no T-shirts and flip-flops for me. My flying attire just about always consists of a button-down shirt, paired with either some nice slacks and dress shoes or a pair of boots and cowboy cut jeans. When I’m feeling less formal, I might dip into the polo, jeans and sneakers look.
Why this look? For one thing, it’s nice to have some nice attire when on vacation — and wearing some of my nicer clothes on the plane keeps it from getting wrinkled or crushed within my luggage. (This is also the reason I’ll wear a baseball hat or a cowboy hat on occasion.)
But my fashion choices are also a statement. They’re a proclamation that I treat the ability to fly as what it is — a privilege. And they serve notice of my intention to respect that privilege by acting with grace.
Essentially, I dress and act the same way classy way I hope to be treated by others.
And it works! In a world where in-flight etiquette is often questionable, fellow passengers generally act courteously toward me. Some even go as far as to strike up conversations with me on account of my attire.
It all makes the extra hassle at TSA worth it. (They have a field day with my boots and big ol’ belt buckle.)
***
Now, I don’t expect everyone to treat flying as a formal event. A plane ride is still just a journey from one city to another. Ladies, if you’d feel more comfortable traveling in yoga pants, a V-neck T-shirt and flip flops, go on ahead with it.
But let’s not forget that there are consequences to our choices. And while getting turned away at the gate for how we dress might be a bridge too far, we shouldn’t act as if our choice in attire doesn’t matter.
It does.
Like it or not, people are watching — and they’re reacting to what they see. It’s human nature.
Fortunately, we have the power to steer this narrative. But the obligation is on us, and us alone.
Our fashion choices while five miles high tell a story. What will yours be?