The day I talked about fashion

The decline of airport elegance, precisely.

Would anyone in the 60s say, let’s go to the airport looking like… shit?

No, they wouldn’t. Look at them. 100% of them cruising at 30,000 feet altitude with award-winning hairstyles; with a hairstylist on site to fix any potential flyaways. Toes crushed into leather shoes, heels excellent to walk around during turbulence. So elated they even talk to the passenger next door. The flight attendants, at such spectacle, hand in refrigerated bottles of champagne (the whole bottle, mind you). And there they were. Resting their polished little heads on the colorful little mats, swimming in a seat as big as the modern reclining seats at AMC Theaters.

And yet - there was a moment, that escapes us all, potentially around COVID19, that we decided, as a collective, that it was acceptable to go to the airport looking as if you were under a flu attack. Looking like shit, essentially.

Your hair looks too brushed, unbrush it immediately! Cowboy boots on top of sweatpants. Souvenir T-shirts. Pajamas. Kids wearing underwear on top of pajamas. A nurse in scrubs. A man in his twenties holding a Pokemon handbag. A woman with a belt around the neck. Not even making this up. I diligently researched outfits during my last trip to the airport for the integrity of this post.

To bring fashion back to the air, please sign the petition below: