i grew up by the time airline travel was inexorably way past its glamourous climax: bye bye groomed attendants, free drinks, sexy uniforms… hello strip-down security checks, exhaustive bag-weighing, extortionately expensive limp chicken sandwiches…
flying was never a more democratic and yet more alienating experience: even brandy has been stripped down of all historical privileges to be peddled in plastic sachets.
and so it is in these sappy fits of nostalgia for the mad men-inspired, foxier times of yore that british airways have resuscitated their old motto: to fly, to serve.
to which i, with my tongue firmly in my cheek, will gladly raise my glass.
i leave you with this luridly colourful william eggleston (‘glass on plaine’ untitled) print.