Part 1 in a Jet Age Feminism series exploring the intersection of commercial aviation and gender roles.
Upon entering the Museum’s limited-time exhibit, Runway to Runway, visitors are greeted by a curious sight indeed: a flight attendant uniform—made of paper. The uniform was devised for Trans World Airlines (TWA’s) ill-fated “Foreign Accent” promotion in 1968. The promotion glammed up domestic flights with one of four international themes, with meals, music, and fashion to match: French, English, Italian, and Manhattan. Visitors have the chance to see all four uniforms as part of the rotating display; recently, the “English Serving Wench” was swapped out for the “Roman Toga.” As Exhibit Developer Mandy Faber explained, the refresh invites the opportunity to compare, contrast, and return to Runway to Runway.
Why would a flight attendant wear a paper uniform? The answer, it turns out, spans fashion, feminism, and plain old 1960’s kookiness. It was the era of airlines one-upping each other with luxurious perks, from champagne to fresh orchids, and fashion was a key weapon in this war for well-heeled customers. Braniff Airways hired Pucci for its “End of the Plain Plane” campaign; his technicolor, Swinging Sixties designs can be seen in Runway to Runway. Meanwhile, TWA enlisted Elisa Daggs, who had already made wedding dresses, baby clothes, and even bathing suits out of paper. At the time, paper fashion was all the rage. The New York Times dubbed the trend “Fashions to Buy, Wear and Then Throw Away.” Because Daggs’ exact material is no longer manufactured (which says a lot), Runway to Runway uses a close match in its interactive display of different uniform materials.
Almost immediately, flight attendants chafed against the uniforms—literally and metaphorically. While the paper uniforms were billed as fire-resistant, their PVC coating would break down whenever a passenger spilled their drink. Even worse, suppliers would run out of the signature material altogether and resort to a flimsier, even-less-fireproof paper. Rips were frequent, requiring round-the-clock repairs with scissors, staplers, and masking tape—far from the glamorous image the ads for Foreign Accent projected. Due in part to flight attendant outcry (many refused to wear the uniforms), the Foreign Accent promotion was discontinued just eight months in.
Flight attendants were equally incensed by the demeaning advertising that accompanied the promotion. One ad presented a coterie of coyly smiling, lounging stewardesses with the tagline “Fight boredom four ways to Los Angeles or San Francisco.” The copy was laden with innuendo, playing up the stewardesses’ “ruffles, bows and minis, and sheer delight in being girls.” Stewardesses were dehumanized, described as part of the theme and decor: “[The flights] come in four styles with hostesses to match."
At the time, the airline industry’s misogynistic advertising was reaching its zenith with campaigns like “She’ll Serve You—All the way” and the infamous “Fly Me.” For TWA stewardess Katherine Heenan, the ads stung because they reinforced passengers’ view of her as a “sky waitress.” But Katherine knew the truth, which was that in an emergency, flight attendants were responsible for keeping everyone safe. Her friends had dealt with medical emergencies, and she had once escorted passengers to safety when a plane’s engine caught fire. The paper uniforms weren’t just impractical—they were a safety risk, making it harder for flight attendants to do their jobs.
It was one slight of many. Despite the seeming glamor and envy of their profession, flight attendants were subject to a litany of punishing restrictions. At many airlines, they couldn’t marry or become pregnant, and were booted when they turned 35. Airlines had stringent appearance requirements, from height to hip measurement, and enforced regular, public “weigh-ins” in the cabin. Beyond thinness and conventional beauty, being white was often an unspoken prerequisite for employment.
The group Stewardesses For Women’s Rights (SFWR) was formed, in 1972, by two flight attendants who were tired of this treatment. One had been fired for being deemed overweight, while the other had been sexually harassed by a passenger. SFWR denounced workplace discrimination, salacious advertising, and safety hazards on flights. As SFWR broke into the ascendent feminist movement, it faced suspicion from mainstream feminists, who often viewed stewardesses as traitors to the cause, complicit in their own objectification. But SFRW had one key ally: Gloria Steinem, who attended the very first SFWR meeting in a church basement in Manhattan. Through protests, union organizing, and landmark court cases like Laffey v Northwest Airlines (1970), SFWR and others launched a successful “Stewardesses’ Rebellion.”
Remember Katherine Heenan? She joined SFWR and her airline union with the affront of the paper uniforms fresh in her mind. As Exhibit Developer Mandy Faber explains, each of the 13 uniforms on view in Runway to Runway was chosen, in part, for the equity story it sheds light on. Katherine’s story gets to the very heart of Runway to Runway: the wacky and whimsical uniforms, yes, but more importantly, the women who wore them and fought for their civil rights while doing so.
Keep checking the Blog for more entries in the Jet Age Feminism series.