
She was part of the original jet set. Forever immortalised in seventies films and bestsellers like Coffee, Tea or Me?, the air hostess8217;s reign as a feminine icon ended long ago. But the afterglow remains. Even as she transits to her post-9/11 avatar, trading her stilettos for a black belt, the old mystique survives. It8217;s easy to recall the fascination she inspired. Before easy and cheap air travel collapsed distance, she was part of small cosmopolitan circle. In return for nannying a planeload of adults, she got to see the world and return home with cartloads of exotic tales. Her work schedule may have been crammed with orders for hot coffee and cold souffle, but she was a fashion icon. Her hemline and sari pallu were just the right length, and her beauty secrets were the stuff of cosmetic advertisements. Every little girl at some point nurtured dreams of becoming an air hostess or at least acquiring a doll dressed up as one.
Of course, the air hostess8217;s charmed life was part fantasy. Behind the heady escapades in Atlanta and Addis Ababa lay stories of compulsory nail inspections for the right colour of varnish. There lay ordeals of having to answer considerably more inquiries about her age and family status than her male counterpart. The equal rights movement has rectified much of that, as have the changing dynamics of the travel industry. Discrimination on the basis of looks, age and gender is, thankfully, hard to justify in redressal courts. And in any case, in a fastforward, much terrorised world, she is seen less as eye candy than as an efficient dispenser of food and drink and a reassuring assistant in case of emergency. From a glorified nanny, she has transformed into a professional service provider.