Back to: The Cabin Crew Interview Made Easy – Curbside

Words: 2,147

Read Time: 14 minutes

Oct 6, 2025

Lesson Author

Caitlyn. Rogers

There’s a reason airlines no longer issue uniforms made of silk, denim, or wool, and why go-go boots and plastic helmets were retired to museums. Sure, airline uniforms flirt with haute couture, but they’re not made for the fashion runway. They’re built for the real runway.

Today’s airline uniform is designed like a toolkit — engineered for movement, endurance, and long-haul wear. You’ll find crease-resistant fabric, breathable linings, moisture-wicking layers, and two or three choices of footwear: heels for aesthetics, flats for action.

Emirates have a staggering array of 15 shoe types.

You, however, are not yet crew — yet. And while no one’s expecting you to evacuate an aircraft during your interview, you won’t be sitting pretty in your jump-seat either. Recruitment days are long, some are physically active, and unexpectedly demanding. You may be walking, waiting, reaching, lifting, crouching into brace position, and weaving your way through a maze of group exercises.

We’re in part two of this grooming saga and this installment isn’t about dressing like you work there — it’s about dressing like you belong up there. There’s a world of difference between the two.

When selecting your interview outfit, remember: the mirror is just one checkpoint — not your final clearance. It’s easy to get caught up in surface polish. A fitted pencil skirt might show off your waist-to-hip ratio beautifully, and that corset you’ve been eyeing might cinch things in just right. But before you commit, can you move?

You never know what a recruitment event will throw at you. At a minimum, most airlines will want to know if you can reach the overhead bins — and you’ll be asked to prove it. Sometimes it’s a mark on the wall. Sometimes it’s a full functional drill. If your outfit limits your range — whether it’s fabric, boning, boobs, or badly placed buttons — it’s going to work against you.

This includes that rib-constricting corset you’ve been eyeing because that whisper-network tip about “secret waist measurements.” Retire it. Or better yet, turn it into a weightlifting belt — you’ll get more use out of it at the gym, training for the lift test because there is no secret waist measurement test.

Remember this mantra:

“You can fly the plane without the paint, but you can’t fly the paint without the plane.”

Translation? Your outfit might look incredible on Instagram and match the airline palette, but if it stops you from performing — bending, reaching, squatting, demonstrating a brace position — or functions like scaffolding, you’re not dressed for aviation and that’s a real problem — not your outfit’s colour, cut, or cleavage.

I say this with love — and a wardrobe full of regrets. I’m risking a complementary flash of my Care Bear knickers and strained ankle, all because I didn’t plan for movement.

So before you fall down the rabbit hole of colour swatches and collar shapes, zoom out. Think structure. Think movement. This is about proving you’re operational. But what does operational look like in an interview setting? Great question. Let’s peak behind the galley curtain.

British Airways don’t have masking tape on the wall. They have functional reach tests.

The following is sourced from British Airways

A Cabin Crew role involves many manual tasks, including reaching overhead lockers and opening aircraft doors. Our functionality check ensures you’ll be able to complete these tasks.

You need to be of a required height, maximum of 2.01m, and have a

vertical function reach of at least 2.01m.

In order to be able to meet the reach requirement

you likely need to be at least 1.575m in height.

We will measure your diagonal reach, as this is used to manually release an evacuation slide in an emergency. You’ll be asked to hold a handle with your right hand and reach down to touch a tag on the floor with your left.

Your right arm will be at about 2 o’clock and your left arm at around 7 o’clock. You’ll squat a little to do this, so ensure your clothes allow you room to bend.

Please note – any offer of employment is conditional upon completion of the Functionality Check. If you are unable to complete the check, unfortunately your offer of employment will be withdrawn.

Similar to the functional reach test is its sibling, a functional jump-seat test.

It looks deceptively simple. Sit. Buckle. Brace. But here’s where Old Wives whispers about secret waist measurements and cruel fat checks. Result? Candidates turn up trussed in corsets, terrified of seatbelt shame, and then they fail the very test they were trying to cheat.

Not really, it’s actually really hard to fail a jump-seat test.

Sarah Smart, a recruiter at Virgin Atlantic describes the ordeal as, “At the assessment day you’ll first be asked to sit on a crew seat and reach an overhead bin. This is important because a lot of safety equipment is stored in the hat racks and you need to be able to reach it.”

A variation to this test might include reaching down. And you’ll be asked to perform these tasks without using an extension belt. This, of course, is where the Old Wives begin nattering.

This isn’t about beauty. It’s about mobility, response time, basic safety mechanics.

That little black mark on the recruitment wall? On the aircraft, it becomes a lever, a panel, a life raft strap. You won’t always get a clear path to an object.

Aviation is a world built in curves and angles, and inside that cylindrical cabin, nothing is conveniently placed. Emergency kits, fire extinguishers, oxygen valves — they’re tucked into recesses, up high, down low, behind panels. Doors don’t open or close in straight lines and have handles around corners. You’ll need to reach, lunge, twist — often fast, sometimes in the dark, and always with calm precision.

So when airlines test your reach, your grip, your brace position — they’re not being cruel. They’re making sure you’re fit to fly.

Put your garments through a real-world field test because if you’re arriving to your interview having never worn your bracers, waistcoat, scarf, tie, corset, spanx, and blazer in an active setting, that’s the equivalent to arriving at your first half marathon never having broken in your trainers. I have done both with expected results.

Put the outfit on. The whole thing — underpinnings, overpinnings, secret support structures, jewellery, all of it. Wear it. For at least three hours. Don’t stand still and pose. Live in it. Walk up stairs. Sit on the floor.

• Can you reach the top kitchen cupboard without putting your pits into a stranglehold?
• What happens when you bend over to grab the knife that slipped behind the washing machine?
• Did anything split? reveal? or otherwise go whoopsy?

If reach is a challenge, layers are your friend. Dress like it’s a snow day — then remove one layer at a time and see how it affects your range.

But reach isn’t all, there’s also wear-ability to consider, too.

At the end of your test, go stand in natural light and assess:

• Any wrinkles forming in odd places?
• Do your trousers resemble Venetian blinds?
• Any translucence?
• Any suspicious sweat patches under pressure points?
• Any threads pulling, seams twisting, fabrics bunching?
• Any skin chafing?
• Buttons carving hieroglyphs into your torso?

And most importantly: What’s the first thing you want to do? Are you ready for the next challenge — or desperate to crawl into your unicorn onesie?

“Can I perform a reach test with my hip to the wall? I can reach higher.”

This is an actual question recently posted on social media.

Let’s be clear:

That’s not a height issue.

That’s a boob issue.

Boobs can be a genuine hurdle in those “touch the line on the wall” reach tests. But so too can other things you don’t even know to think about. I mean, who would think about testing cleavage in a reach test?

Spine compression, tight clothing, short skirts, even boobs can sabotage your reach. Which is why we test everything.

Now, whilst we’re on the topic of boobs and reach, I have a little anecdote of my very own.

Since moving to the US, I’ve had a personal vendetta with my American-sized, top-loading washing machine. Every time I reach down into the drum to fish out my knickers, I get a sharp jab to the ribs, a bruise across the stomach, and a full musical melody from my boobs as they press all sorts of buttons. (Ironically, I’m pretty sure the melody is Puff Goes the Weasel.)

And let’s be clear — I’m not exactly stacked. Let’s just say, 36A is not my seat number.

That means, twice a week, I have to contort my hip and ribs just so I can get over and around the left side of the machine. It’s cumbersome, it sort of works, but it’s uncomfortable and I usually ask my husband for help.

Consider how many problems this could cause on a flight where that’s your day to day life, especially in an environment where red warning signs and buttons appear on every other surface area. The last thing anyone needs is your chest playing a button concerto mid-flight.

And that, darling, is why levers exist.

Speaking of levers, let’s talk functionality.

Whilst you’re clawing at the top shelf for the cereal boxes, take a moment to test your breakfast too. Mid-day bloat is a real thing — and so are five-hour interviews. Airlines do not operate on the ground the way they do in the air — at least, not in the way we expect. Think in-flight emergency, rather than hospitality.

Sure, there will be flight attendants overseeing the event — Perfectly groomed, poised, and glowing with that “I’ve been awake since 2:30am but you’d never know it” energy. But they are not here to bring you tea and biscuits. There is no drinks trolley rolling down the aisle every 45 minutes. No guarantee that you’ll even see a bathroom before the day is done. Someone might gesture vaguely toward a vending machine.

Eat breakfast like you’re about to be stranded — on a deserted island or, more realistically, inside a jet delayed five hours with no clear end in sight.