Lara Zielin

Earlier today, I sat in an airport wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a black Eddie Bauer zip-up vest. It might not have been fancy, but it was clean, not to mention I took the time to shower, put on makeup, and do my hair. I don’t know why, but I value looking nice for a flight. Not, like, Mad Men nice (Omg, the one where they fly to Italy and step off the plane looking like Ken and Barbie? Wow.) but at least reasonably put together. No Juicy sweatpants. No tousled hair. No still-fresh pillow marks on my face.

I get that there’s tons of value in being comfy during travel. I do. And the process of getting from Point A to Point B has certainly been democratized — just about anyone can go anywhere, so it’s not like only it’s just the very wealthy traveling about in Gucci.

But I still like the notion of looking presentable when I get to an airport. I think it’s because I can remember flying as a kid, and how we’d actually pick our outfits in advance for the plane. My mom usually wore a skirt and jacket. I know my dad wore a collared shirt—maybe even a tie. I never wore jeans. Never. I’m not sure when travel attire changed, but I think I’ll stay old-school for a while. I want to always step into a different city with my best foot forward.