OUT IN THE BLUE

Learning to Love my Pan Am Uniform

By Anne Sweeney

Anne Sweeney in 1964, about to become what the Pan Am recruiters called "a girl who knows her way around the world the way most girls know their way around the block."

      On a July day in 1964, a Pan Am vice president pinned a pair of gold wings on my perfectly tailored Tunis Blue uniform and sent me soaring. The wings and the rather military uniform marked five weeks of intensive training that transformed my style and my soul, setting me on a flight path that would make me a true citizen of the world.

     Winning a job as a Pan Am stewardess was very competitive, especially for Americans like me whose language skills were less stellar than the Europeans and Japanese recruiters favored. College grads were preferred and, fresh from a Catholic women's college, I reported for training with my long red locks shorn to regulation above-the-collar length. Not a little of my pride went with them.

My college yearbook photo. Long hair and pale lipstick did not fit the Pan Am image.

The world was changing, and Pan Am's uniform regulations seemed old fashioned in an age of miniskirts, thick eyeliner, pale lipstick and long-hair.

      Said regulations were contained in The Flight Service Manual, a bible of rules and procedures that we were to commit to memory.

     Revlon ruled our make-up and we were required to wear Persian Melon lipstick and matching nail polish. (Surprise! Charles Revson was a member of the Board of Directors!) I looked like a corpse in Persian Melon, but had to get written permission from the grooming instructor to wear a different shade.

     Bras must be worn and they must be white as did the requisite full slip. Girdles were mandatory whether you needed them or not and given the airline's obsession with weight, we didn't. Pan Am demanded a smooth silhouette under the straight blue-gray skirts.

     Hosiery was another heady subject with paragraphs devoted to shade, degree of sheerness and condition. You could wear either stockings (attached to that sexy girdle) or panty hose. The pale tights that were currently in fashion were verboten. You could however, continue the 50s theme and wear stockings with seams, though in the Brave New World of 1964, no one did.

     You needed two types of shoes. High heeled black pumps whenever off the plane or when the aircraft door was open - hats must be worn at the same time. We were to change into low heeled "galley shoes" as soon as the doors closed. High boots were not allowed and we would face the winter winds from Pole to Pole in ankle boots my grandmother would have rejected. All that stood between you and the Arctic chill was a thin layer of nylon stocking.

     Gloves were required and The Manual mandated length, color and when they should be worn. Quarter-length black leather gloves were worn from October 1 Through April 30. Then change to white, wrist length for spring and summer. However, there followed a list of sectors into which one or the other was required year 'round. These included Seattle to Alaska (black) and Miami to the Caribbean (white). Destinations below the equator also demanded a change - you might depart New York in summer, with white gloves, only to find it winter in Buenos Aries where black gloves were now required. Got that?   Good, because there were weekly quizzes on grooming regs throughout the training course.

Anne, circa 1966, on the steps of a Pan Am 707 Jet Clipper.

     Our military-style hats were later changed to a pretty pillbox that made us look more like Jackie Kennedy and less like The Andrews Sisters. On a windy runway, these hats could be anchored only with a regulation white scarf.

Anne and Barbie - separated at birth?

     There was much more to study. I learned how to prepare and serve a seven-course meal in First Class, mix cocktails, pour wine, put out a galley fire, deliver a baby, launch a life raft and evacuate a 707 in 90 seconds. My French improved considerably, as did my self-discipline.

      Cultural differences were explored and special meals and religious requirements detailed. I learned about places I would visit that I didn't know existed. A truly global airline, Pan Am expected us to understand the elements of culture, faith and politics that would impact us, not always for the better.

     My cosmopolitan classmates opened new worlds. My roommate was an English model and we are friends to this day, the first of many friendships forged.

     When we donned our uniforms for graduation, everything made sense. We were different and disciplined, inside and out.   Our beautifully tailored uniforms symbolized all we had become and hoped to be - sophisticated, select, and special. We would join the ranks of Pan Am stewardesses who stood out at airports from Rio to Rangoon. Impeccable, elegant, professional - and very proud.

Media Contact:

Anne Sweeney

Anne Sweeney Public Relations

732-329-6629/aspubrel@aol.com