At the time I was born, my parents had not flown on an airplane.

So when my father flew for the first time, from LaGuardia in New York to Cleveland Hopkins in 1962, one of the first questions we asked him was “What were the stewardesses like?”

It seems like a weird question in 2024. If only because nobody is called a “stewardess” anymore.

When airlines tried to build their business in the years after World War II, they believed the fastest way into the wallets of their potential customers – most of whom were male – was to appeal to their libidos.

That meant hiring young women who fit a stereotype of beautiful and dressing them in outfits generally not suited for the kind of work they were doing, Often, the women had to wear heels on long flights while handing out trays of food.

The advertising of the era would make most of the younger women I know cringe in horror. One airline, National, had a campaign that depicted stewardesses as the vessels on which they were flying. “I’m Cindy,” said one young woman. “Fly me to Miami, Tampa, Orlando, all over Florida.” Another, Southwest, briefly put its attendants in the hot pants that were the craze of the early ‘70s.

The women couldn’t be married. They couldn’t gain weight. Movies suggested the women had promiscuous private lives. When they were in their early 30s, they were done.

The raising of awareness in the late 60s put an end to this. Lawsuits successfully killed marriage, age and racial discrimination. And men took on the job in increasing numbers.

Now the term is flight attendant, which seems more appropriate, because it’s a tough job. Helping elderly and disabled passengers. Coping with crying babies of all ages.

There are still some vestiges of the old-style glamorous stewardesses on international carriers. But, fortunately, the sexualization of flight attendants seems to have gone the way of actually serving food on a flight.