Oh, good grief. Application photos. It started with selfies, and now it’s browfies and scarfies and skinfies. What do they all mean, and more importantly — what are recruiters actually looking for?
Yes, yes, I’ve heard the whispers about scar declarations and the secret beauty assessments, and all the other recruitment folklore. Those old chestnuts have been rattling around since the dawn of hysteria. Want to know what really happened the first time someone tested the so-called photo beauty requirements? Good. Because I submitted a small army of computer-generated applicants to stress-test the photo requirements.
In this lesson, we begin the first in a series of lessons on photo requirements. We’ll strip away the fear, the filters, and the Old Wives’ warnings. We reframe what those interview photos are truly for — and how to approach them with clarity, strategy, and just the right amount of personality.
Okay, let’s see, Virgin’s invitation letter says to bring:
The all-important invite to meet Virgin’s recruitment team. — check.
Education Record of Achievement. — check.
Oo, I’ll include my Mensa certificate to offset my school grades.
Passport. — check.
Two photocopies. — check.
No mention of swimming badges.
Hmm, full length photo? Ugh, no, not that one. Or that one. Oh, maybe, no, maybe not. Oh here we go, Hollywood. That’s perfect. — check.
A head and shoulder photo? Headshot? I guess? no, better not look like I’m trying too hard. Seems a shame to waste passport photos. — check.
Ground School
That’s the best I will ever look
I assumed Virgin’s photo request was a measurement of beauty and femininity, so I considered the professional headshots I’d had produced in Hollywood, except I hated every one of them and didn’t want Virgin to think that was the best I had to offer. I wanted to look good, but it couldn’t look like I was trying. Professional photos said “This is the best I will ever look.”
I’d worked hard on getting decent passport photos, and everyone knows nobody looks good in those, so those left room for potential.
The full-length shot was trickier. What kind of full length photos? Casual? Smart casual? Business Professional? And then there was the issue of actually having photos. I didn’t feel good getting in front of the camera, so I wasn’t in the habit of collecting evidence.
There was that one of me standing in front of Virgin’s 747. In theory, a smart move — visual alignment, brand proximity. In reality, posing next to the Scarlet Lady just made me look like her short, stumpy, and bewildered plus-one.
Then I considered the mid-flight photo, taken by the crew. But that wouldn’t work. Not with lipstick on my forehead and crumpled clothing. And besides, I wanted to pitch myself as fun, independent, and well-travelled — not a tragic groupie who sleeps in “I ♥︎ Branson” pyjamas, wears three pairs of in-flight Virgin socks at the same time, and collects crew autographs.
So, I opted for props. And that’s how I decided on the photo of me standing in front of the Hollywood sign. It didn’t matter that I was too awkward to smile in front of the judgy stranger behind the camera. My backdrop would give me street cred and make me look cool by association.
Ground School
Must look like a girl — Troll Doll or Trolly Dolly?
I’ve never quite mastered the art of photographs. I seem to lack that elusive gene that transforms ordinary women into influencers — no instinct for lighting, no intuition for angles that might whisper something flattering.
Case in point: I once torpedoed a perfectly decent flirtation over what should’ve been a harmless little request. I’m fairly certain he asked for a photo of my leg — singular — because that’s exactly what I sent. Actually, half a leg, knee to ankle. One lone limb, captured like it had been surreptitiously snapped beneath a toilet stall.
He ghosted me, naturally. Then married a woman whose legs now appear surreptitiously propped against his bedroom wall — from hip to toe.
So, as you can imagine…application photos, were, well, a special kind of torment. Not just because I lacked the influencer gene — but because before my flight attendant dream ever found its legs, people were already busy sizing up mine. (and this was long before my flirtatious leg photo bombed.) “You want to be a flight attendant? Have you ever looked in a mirror? You know you have to be tall and pretty, right?” That was Gordo. Sweet guy. Always a pleasure.
If you haven’t figured it out yet, I wasn’t one of those destined-to-become types whose high school yearbook photos practically come with a boarding pass. I was mostly known for my homecut hair, my mismatching shoes, and bitten fingernails. If we’d had a yearbook, some punk wielding a biro would have turned my Trolley Dolly aspirations into Trolley Dolly instead.
And they weren’t saying anything I hadn’t already read in the school’s outdated career library. The job posters on my wall could have been written by Gordo.
Braniff International insisted, “Must look like a girl,” while Eastern Airlines followed up with nineteen different ways they would confirm those mandatory “girly” qualities. “We look at her face, her make-up, her complexion, her figure, her weight, her legs, her grooming, her nails, and her hair” …and on it continued.
Must look like a girlOur dreams have to start somewhere – and so does fear over sexist legacies.
Should look like a girl.
Must be pretty.
Must be tall.
Have good legs, nice voice, good hair, smaller nose, whiter teeth…
“Have you looked in the mirror?”
I had become accustomed to this sort of scrutiny. By the time I applied to Virgin, my appearance had already been assessed in the job market several times.
First, an audition at The London College of Fashion, where I hoped a modelling course would help me tick every box on the “looking like a girl” criteria, a pre-airline Charm Farm if you will — speaking of tall and pretty, there I stood, nipple height, in a room of top fashion models. I guess you could say, I failed my first reach test.
Then, I auditioned for a belly dancing gig — courtesy of Gordo, after he flung the Trade-It newspaper at me with a job ad circled in red: “Wanted, belly dancer for Greek entertainment evenings”. And since I’m competitive, hate being underestimated, and saw an opportunity for reinvention, I said “you’re on” and transformed his taunt into a dare. Somehow… it went well and I got the gig — thereby proving Gordo’s point about my belly.
Same lesson each time: looks mattered.
So, when Virgin asked for full-length photos, they might as well have been asking for my Troll Doll yearbook photo.
Ground School
Airlines aren’t Gordo
My choices reflected my skewed view of the airline industry. I was so worried about being judged, that I minimised myself. And in doing so, I missed the whole point of the photographs.
Remember:
This is aviation.
A serious industry prone to terrorism, drug smuggling, human trafficking. An industry which prioritises safety and security above all else.
Heck, those are your top priorities for cabin crew.
Your interview photos are to recruitment what your passport is to international travel.
We’ve already covered the numbers: 150,000, 300,000 applicants in a single round.
Now imagine if photos weren’t required. What’s to stop someone sending in their charismatic and photogenic best mate to smash the interview, then swapping places before training? HR and trainers would be none the wiser.
Photos are the checkpoint. They prove the person applying is the same one who gets hired, cleared, and granted airside access.
Skip those checks, and it’s the hiring equivalent of letting passengers board without a passport.
But… yes yes, I can already hear the Old Wives warming up. Is it really as innocent as all that? Or is there something discriminatory going on? Well, I wanted to know the answer to that as well, so I crosschecked.
Ground School
Are Photos Used For Discrimination?
Over the past few years, I’ve submitted more than 50 airline applications as a live stress test for recruitment systems.
Deliberately probing weak spots and points of failure. Long before AI could conjure convincing humans, I was experimenting with digitally generated avatars to stand in for me. Meet Joelle and Tyrone and Cane:
I built a team of fake applicants to do the visual heavy lifting on my behalf.
As you can see, these avatars are nowhere near human, and anyone looking at them would spot the fakery in a heartbeat (If not that, Canes pink-eye would definitely have gotten a stink-eye). That was the point: to see how far a clearly artificial applicant could travel through a recruitment pipeline before the system — or a human — finally called it out.
And do you know how many of my digital applicants were stopped at the very first stage? Not a single one. Of course, every airline has its own systems, so this isn’t a trick to copy for your live application — but it proves something worth knowing: the photos you upload at the start carry far less weight than most people fear. It’s not about golden proportions or the latest beauty myth making the rounds; the early screening is about process, not perfection. Too many assumptions are made about looks and “ideal” appearance, and most of them are wildly out of proportion to the reality.
Remember. What you think is right is not always accurate. What sounds logical and reasonable is not always true. And where there’s fear, theirs a myth to prey on that fear.
Still not convinced, don’t worry, I’m got you covered. We’ll dive into this far more when we reach Emirates, then you’ll really see how photos impact your application, and what happened to my army of avatars.
In the meantime, can photos create an impression? Absolutely. Will they inform a decision? Depends on the photo.
Ground School
The Best Photos Are Aligned With The Airline’s Personality.
One full length and one head and shoulder photo. That was the extent of Virgin’s requirements. No artistic direction. No rules. Just send us two photos and see what happens.
What do you do with that?
a) Go casual, show yourself as a human with a personality, doing that cool thing you love? b) Or maybe smart casual, because you want to show you are a professional, but still have a personality and a life? c) Or get suited up to stand in front of a white bedsheet, fingers steepled with authority?
Your decision really depends on the airline, its corporate culture, and the story you want to tell. And, of course, if instructions are given, be sure to follow those to the letter. Some airlines are finicky about their photo requirements, and they’ll let you know what they want.
Consider the airline and its corporate culture.
Take Virgin, for example. It’s not a beige-carpet kind of airline — it’s playful, cheeky, and brandishes racy taglines with pride. That means you’ve got more leeway: slightly casual, personality-forward photos won’t count against you.
But does that mean you should send in that bodybuilding competition shot? You could, if that’s how you want to be remembered. That kind of strategy might’ve landed you a seat on Hooters Air back in 2004, or a page in Ryanair’s now-controversial “Girls of Ryanair” calendar in 2014.
Use common sense.
Sure there are some fun airlines, but they are still professional organisations. Treat the photos as you would your resume, an extension of your professional life.
Smile.
You’ll be the face of the airline, so show recruiters what that looks like. Toothy smile or closed mouth? Choose your preference. To my knowledge, no airline mandates facial expression. I’m sure Old Wives will say otherwise.
If you have a backdrop, don’t let it dominate.
You should be the centre of attention. And if the airline has asked for a flat white backdrop, plug sockets and skirting boards and bedsheets should not make an appearance. Pay attention to those details.
Candid or Posed?
Sure, candids capture your most natural and beautiful Duchenne smile, but you lose control over lighting, framing, and overall presentation. Posed photos carry the risk of a forced smile and looking unnatural, but you’ll have more control over body language and composition. And remember, flight attendants invented the fake smile — It’s called the Pan-Am smile.
Tattoos.
It depends on the airline. In general, keep those hidden.
Even if your tattoos are in the safe zones (everywhere below uniform) casual shots which reveal tattoos might get airline panties in a twist. (Some airlines, such as Air New Zealand and Virgin, now permit tattoos. Check the airline requirements.)
Background tells one story, context tells another, and how you are dressed tells one more.
These are all factors to consider when making a decision. In my case, my everyday environment, inside the hangars at British Aerospace, positioned in front of the landing gear or wind tunnel would have made some great candids and showed the real me, wouldn’t it? What do you think? And that photo of me wearing “I ♥︎ Branson” pyjamas mid-flight? — Okay, maybe not.
Browfies and Scarfies.
Unless an airline explicitly requests high-resolution documentation of your scar tissue and eyebrow symmetry — more on that later — resist the urge to send in 10x zooms of your scarfies, skinfies, or browfies with your application. If they’ve requested a full-length photo, they don’t mean one toe at a time.
Okay, we’ll get to all that later. Time to slip out of the Branson pj’s and into something interview appropriate.
