It's 6am and I'm sipping a flat white in Virgin Australia's Sydney Airport lounge. I'm here with a colleague who has lounge access and favours this carrier over the opposition, Qantas.
Our debate over which of these two local airlines deserves our patronage continues as we take off for Melbourne: Virgin is bright, polished and inexpensive; it has a sleek, modern lounge which serves great coffee, but it won't allow economy-class passengers a complimentary cup of tea; Qantas, with whom we travel back to Sydney the following day, trades on customers' patriotism while pandering to its shareholders, and has shamelessly moved jobs offshore; but it keeps its cabins largely commerce-free, ensuring that they aren't transformed into cheap food kiosks.
But there's another point of difference, one that interests me most, and that's the way in which each airline chooses to represent women. The differences are stark.
For all the things Qantas stands accused of — selling out its Australian employees, uncompetitive pricing, bad management — it appears to be respectful of women, both its employees and its customers. And women hoping to thrive need all the positive reinforcement they can get from corporations such as Qantas, whose public persona is reflected in equal measure by men and women.
On our flight home to Sydney, I point out to my colleague the even mix of male and female flight attendants and the wide disparity in their ages. Indeed, most of the female attendants appear to be over the age of 40, and while they are well-groomed there is nothing provocative about their attire.
They set a comfortable tone in the cabin, for there is no confusion as to their role: they are here to take care of our in-flight needs and guide us in case of trouble; it is not their job to titillate us, to enliven the space with their beauty and cleavage, to stroke the egos of male passengers.
A ticket on a Virgin flight, on the other hand, brings with it the allure of sex, the commodity on which the company's brand has been built. Youthful air hostesses wear fitted dresses, 'Virgin Girl' pin-ups decorate the noses of some aircraft, and the company's advertisements depict flight attendants as sexually alluring supplicants and male passengers as the deserving receptors of their attention.
To be sure, sex is not an innovative marketing tool: Singapore Airlines has long used the beguiling 'Singapore Girl' to advertise its services; Ryanair is notorious for objectifying women, and just last week had its series of adverts featuring flight attendants dressed in lingerie banned.
A survey by the International Transport Workers Federation (ITF) found that sexism was rife within the aviation industry, with one respondent saying her employer only allowed women to serve passengers in its business class section. 'The object is to exploit the female body, to attract business class passengers. It undermines women's dignity, both as women and as professionals,' she said.
Such practices also put flight attendants at risk of sexual harassment, according to studies, and are an affront to female customers, who are not afforded the same consideration and respect as men.
And they undermine men, too: the male attendants who are discriminated against because their bodies cannot be exploited in the manner of women's; the men who are assumed by airlines to be incapable of separating their primal urges from their work-a-day lives; and men in general, for whom the sexist treatment of women is further legitimised by practices such as this.
While sexual harassment has become taboo, sexism of the sort peddled by Ryanair and the Virgin Group is accepted — even lauded — by the public. And men's voices, which are crucial in the fight against sexism, are often absent from the debate altogether.
The erosion of female dignity can be a difficult concept for men to grasp: after all, the representation of women as sexual beings in many ways serves their natural instincts. Why would they complain about something they find sexually alluring? When men do enter the debate, it is most often to accuse female complainants of being 'jealous', 'fat', 'old' or 'ugly', as though any woman who opposed sexism couldn't possibly be young, beautiful and sexy herself.
The potential for societal damage is great when women are treated like objects. The world receives the message that women are at their most valuable when they are beautiful, subservient and pleasure-giving. When men respond positively to such portrayals, they entrench this notion further.
And when these attitudes go unchallenged, they seep into the fabric of our society, debasing women in general and manifesting in negative outcomes such as remuneration gaps, lack of promotional opportunities, sexual harassment and even abuse.
Back on the flight that is taking us home to Sydney, my colleague nods in agreement as I espouse the virtues of Qantas' non-sexist, non-ageist policies. Here is crucial evidence, standing before us in the aisle and pouring a cup of tea, that women are valued by this company not just when they are young and slim and beautiful, but in all their rich, varied and priceless diversity .
Catherine Marshall is a journalist and travel writer.