This is why nobody lives in the airport

Also, airplane socks are making a comeback. Sort of.

While hovering over the electrical outlet, trying to find my charger in my bag, I heard a voice asking if this was gate for the flight to JFK. Being hunched over and looking down, I got a good gander at the Voice’s feet.

They were not bare. But, they also were not … shoed.

I believe they were clad in what are known in the airline industry as “airplane socks.”

I (internally) gasped. I mean, who is this audacious man with no shoes? I tried to make eye contact with the Voice, but he was focused on the boarding gate monitor. I looked around. Is anyone else seeing this?

It’s been years since I’ve bought a plane ticket in a class where the goodie bags were distributed. I’ve been operating under the impression that modern amenities included some kind of Mandarin facial hydrating cream and a family pack of Biscoff cookies, all encased in a leather pouch that FYI? You can totally use as a clutch and nobody will know it was designed to hold airline toothpaste.

I didn’t know “airplane socks” still existed. But good news! Airplane socks may still be available. Also, they may not. I’m not sure about this point because the airplane socks on the feet of the Voice? They had seen some air (and land) miles. I do not exaggerate when I say that they were not pristine.

In case you were under the impression that you could wear airplane socks ❶ outside of the airplane and ❷ as shoe substitutes? I can now confirm that you can.

Unless you want to get on a plane. In which case, you cannot.

The Voice, wearing his airplane socks as footwear, was sent away. Sent away! They wouldn’t even let him stand in line to board the flight.

Airplane socks as footwear? Not recommended for your next flight.

What is on trend? Well, I got a masterclass in airport fashion and you wanna know what everyone is wearing?

Pajamas. They’re wearing their pajamas.

And sweats. Just like the sweats you wore as pajamas when you were 19, rolling out to the dining hall for a giant bowl of Honeycomb just before closing time. But sort of … rattier.

Everyone is wearing this. And getting away with it.

It’s like society has given up on elegance and gone all in on elastic waists.

Except me.

I don’t believe in wearing pajamas in public. Pajamas are to wear at home.

And the airport is the opposite of home.

The airport is where I find myself waving my hands like a confused magician, wondering if I’ve somehow become invisible because apparently all of the soap dispensers hate me.

It’s where I worry about the guy typing away on his laptop next to me—Is he hacking into my computer? Does he have my bank account information?

It’s where I realize halfway through a pee that there’s no toilet paper in the stall.

The airport is not a place where you can relax and just … be.

Home? Is.

Home is where my coffee has creamer, my cocktails have liquor, and I can go for broke drinking all the water—without actually going broke.

Home is where I can plug all my devices in without asking anyone if they’re done using the outlet.

It’s where I know that when I walk into a room, I’ve got a place to sit.

Where my TV has channels that are not CNN.

Where nobody will kick me out if I want to wear airplane socks as footwear.

But mostly? Home is where I can actually be my favorite and most glimmering self—without judgment, without stress, and without the gnawing fear that I’ve somehow been flagged by the TSA.

The airport? It’s just a layover.

Home is the destination.

Your favorite observer of airport fashion,
Vivian

PS. What are your thoughts on this whole pajamas and sweats are the new airport chic? Love it? Hate it? Let’s talk in the comments.