How did it come to this – women required to produce a sick note because they’ve been struck down by… unsexiness? It seems that Norwegian Air requires female flight attendants to wear heels, or have a note from the doctor – other rules cover everything from makeup to false eyelashes.

How mortifying for Norway: in 2018, the country was rated second for equality, after Iceland, in the Global Gender Gap report. Norwegian politician Anette Trettebergstuen said: “1950 rang, and it wants its rulebook back.” Norwegian Air responded that flat shoes are worn in the cabin, there are also dress guidelines for male stewards, and other airlines have similar rules – but it must be aware that last month, Virgin ditched requirements for heels and makeup, with others following suit.

It seems that we’re finally starting to see off the oversexualised “air hostess” cliche, but how has it taken so long? Air travel isn’t alone when it comes to chauvinistic grooming diktats. Officially or unofficially, illegally or otherwise, women have routinely been pressured to dress quasi-sexually for work. From the brazenly provocative Playboy bunny costumes, to waitress pawing-fests, such as last year’s Presidents Club dinner, through to more subtle coercion in bars, clubs, restaurants, shops, receptions and offices.

All too easily, “smart” or “groomed” or “brand-appropriate” become euphemisms for something quite different. It’s as if, for some women, their first task is to look semi-sexually available and anything else they achieve during the working day is a bonus. It’s not that women don’t sometimes wish to dress glamorously or sexually, and are entitled to, but that they’re structurally expected and pressured to, in ways that men aren’t.

Arguably, there’s still a whiff of Mad Men-style glamour about flying, and the uniforms should reflect that. In reality, this whiff is often overpowered by the fumes of several hundred chicken and beef dinners, but don’t damn them for trying. If air travel isn’t just a journey, but also a kind of performance echoing a distant more elegant past, smart uniforms (for everyone) are part of it.

The problems start when the burden falls on the female to be visual and eroticised, to the very brink of pornographic – especially as the “air hostess” has long been a generic fantasy figure. Perhaps this explains why airlines generally have been so slow to lose anachronistic airborne-geisha uniforms (tight skirt, heels, full slap).

It’s a kind of chauvinistic laziness – an easy (and gratuitous) way to keep sex in the mix. Never mind that the flight attendants may have preferred comfort, elegance and dignity to styling that came perilously close over the years to Mile-High Barbie. On and off ground, airline staff have a big job to do – safeguarding the wellbeing and security of passengers. As with all work environments, if men aren’t required to totter about in heels, why on earth are women?

Men are already aware of the dangers of DIY. They don’t do it



A rare case of man fixing a sink. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod/The Guardian

When I first saw articles imploring men to be careful about doing DIY over the Easter break, I wondered whether it was a misprint. Perhaps they were imploring men to do some DIY. However, the NHS is asking people to be careful, as, in the past year alone, there have been thousands of DIY accidents, the vast majority suffered by men, some of whom have been inspired by programmes such as DIY SOS and Grand Designs.

Are the DIY-ers who end up in A&E the same men who are “keen cooks” twice a year, once for Christmas dinner and once when they set up the barbecue, because nothing screams summertime more than munching through a half-raw burger in your own Homebase deckchair? Do these stats relate to regular DIY-ers, or intrepid novices attempting it for the first time, and thus perhaps a tad more likely to fall off ladders, put a drill through their hands, or mow their own feet?

I ask, because I’m surprised by all this DIY activity. I genuinely thought that men were getting progressively less handy with each passing generation, that such skills were dying out. Women have been known to watch porn, not for the sex but just to see some plumbing being attempted. Especially among the professional classes – when you occasionally come across men who can put up a shelf, or sort out simple electrics, they tend to be hailed as astonishing gods from ancient civilisations. Whereupon the excited womenfolk of the area gather, to ask: “Where do you hail from – what wisdom do you bring? And could you sort out the squeaky door before you leave?”

Of course, women are more than capable of doing their own DIY, though not me – I panic at changing a lightbulb (“Is the switch properly off?”) Still, when it comes to warning men about the dangers of DIY – don’t we have to catch some doing it first?

Fans, end this contest to grieve the most for Game of Thrones



There’s nothing to cry about, it’s just a TV series. Photograph: Home Box Office (HBO)/HBO

I’ve nothing against Game of Thrones. I still half-watch it, though I care as deeply about dragons as I do about My Little Pony. I’m so confused with the plot that I think the Seven Kingdoms is a pizza topping, and I fast-forward the battle scenes – which means some episodes have taken about three minutes to watch.

My problem with Game of Thrones is the mawkish nostalgia-fest that’s sprung up over the fact that it’s the final series. Everywhere you look, cast members and fans alike are weeping, wailing and reminiscing about the series coming to an end. Right now, the only “heroic quest” going on is the cast and fans competing to be most upset and nostalgic, for something that isn’t even over yet.

I wouldn’t mind, but it’s only episode two tonight – have we got months of this maudlin drivel to come? Will people be drinking poison from jewel-encrusted goblets and falling shrieking on to daggers by the final episode?

Some of us have been extremely patient with GoT (gratuitous nudity…dragon-crap… clunking scripts that sometimes make it resemble the Acorn Antiques of fantasy), but this final season weepathon could be a liberty too far.

• Barbara Ellen is an Observer columnist