There still seems to be a gulf between discourse and reality when it comes to sexism

It’s been an interesting time for gender politics in the workplace. As Virgin Atlantic’s new advert marks a progressive departure from the brand’s usual stereotypes, we have the fallout from Angela Rayner’s skirt-wearing, leg-crossing wiles causing mass distraction at the despatch box.

It’s a reminder of the gulf between the discourse and the reality, which is a shame if not predictable. Virgin’s campaign feels significant. This is a brand that, for many years, and however tongue-in-cheek the sentiment, has basked in depicting defined gender roles: the pilots suave and male; the cabin crew female and sexualised, hanging off a man’s arm, model-slim and attractive. The tight red suits have always been unapologetically glamorous, the subtext being that they are there to catch the eye, peddling a fantasy of something beyond the reality of serving gin and tonic in a very cramped space.

All of which is absent in the bold, if bandwagon-jumping, revision – which is compelling all the same. The big reveal is a capable-looking female pilot, but I was more struck by the cabin-crew member who, poised to apply lipstick, decides against it, heading to her shift with bare lips free of the usual slick of bright red. This is an interesting point; a rejection of one of the more excessive details of an exacting dress code, which dictates that female cabin crew must wear specific shades of make-up.

It’s going to be a trickier time for employers who still choose to implement such criteria. In a more gender-fluid age, with an ever greater appetite for self-expression, requirements that would once have been followed without question seem increasingly oppressive and irrelevant. People are looking at the bigger picture, challenging rules and restrictions on their appearance that seem to serve little purpose and have no bearing on their ability to do the job.

Furthermore, post-Covid, workwear – along with the workplace itself – has become more casual and less defined. It remains to be seen whether this will filter through to a broader cohort of workplaces, but it got me thinking specifically about the decorative reception teams on the desks of the big London-headquartered finance companies maybe six or seven years ago. Their identikit make-up and matching immaculate doughnut buns were all very much the vibe of high-end cabin crew, except they were grounded in a pristine and sterile reception area.

If a company’s brand and culture begin when you walk through the doors of its premises, what is such homogenised female glamour really saying about the company? Is there still a place, an expectation and a demand for this, or will it be replaced with something more relaxed and diverse?

Of course, customer-facing and public roles demand a level of presentability and grooming, but there is a fine line between acknowledging this and persisting with outdated stereotypes – enforcing compliance with aesthetic expectations that inevitably see women more controlled and under greater scrutiny.

I recall a brief stint as a student working for a large supermarket, where my own appearance seemed to attract a disproportionately high level of interest from management. When I was called into the manager’s office, I assumed it was about my incompetence in the role and appalling attitude, but no – it was to discuss how I looked.

What was wrong with my appearance? I thought I looked great considering the particularly vile uniform of a wrong-sized dress and body-warmer. Yet while male colleagues, some unshaven with bad piercings, showing their underpants in low-slung trousers, seemed to make the presentability grade, my make-up was an issue. I think the gist, from a bumbling and awkward middle manager, was that I looked a bit “overdone”; too glamorous for the shop floor.

I was unsure as to why any of it really mattered, and should probably add that there was nothing that could be deemed remotely extreme or unorthodox about the make-up I wore. It was simply a full face of make-up, when most of the other people working there didn’t bother – which was their choice entirely, as surely it was my choice to wear it. What made either of these choices right or wrong?

And if this sudden focus on my image had to happen, surely providing me with a dress that fitted ought to have been a greater priority than my penchant for lip gloss. The comments took me by surprise, and felt a little intrusive and overly personal. But I treated it all a bit like my other dealings there, with a sort of detached bemusement, as I was sent on my way to address things.

For those who see wearing make-up in the workplace as unnecessary, or as an unwelcome expectation, it was the armour I used to offset the rest of a bad look, making me feel more confident and another dull shift seem more bearable. I still looked presentable and professional, and had no intention of changing anything or making myself look plainer.

Interestingly, when called back to the office for a follow-up chat looking identical to before, I was thanked for taking the comments on board. It really only served to confirm how bizarre and pointless the whole episode was – one that, on reflection, seemed to be far more wrapped up in sexism and judgement than any failure on my part to look appropriate while stacking shelves.

As an attractive and glamorous woman, Angela Rayner inevitably stands out in the Commons, and the recent slur seems to have followed a prolonged crescendo of scrutiny and judgement of her appearance. This week in interviews, she adopted a trouser suit to deflect some attention, but I hope she goes back to what seems to be her preferred skirt. A person’s appearance should never have to be compromised to satisfy the shortfalls of others.