I travel often for work, and to see friends and family around the world. Yeah, I'm a bit of a jetsetter, and I've got the foursquare badge to prove it.

Luckily, I enjoy flying; I kinda like the whole process (except, of course, the stressing about getting to the airport on time, waiting in lines, finding you're seated next to an obese person, finding the obese person's armpits haven't seen deodorant since 1988, watching movies on a tiny screen and not being able to cry openly at Miley Cyrus's The Last Song for fear of ridicule, having to use the claustrophobic restroom while the seat's still warm, breathing in the re-circulated air you share with the hundred other people on the plane, and maintaining a 45 degree angle with your knees at all times while eating pitiful portion of poorly seasoned cardboard), but despite my my zeal for air travel, it generally doesn't agree with me.

I look like a steaming pile of turd when I arrive.

Stop Being Crap: Look good enough for an Arrivals Lounge entrance

There *must* be a way to look good when you fly. I know there is, because of the beautiful people I envitably see on my journey that inevitably make me feel even worse about my sorry self.

They could happily alight from the plane, making a sweeping entrance into arrivals, perfumed, primped and preened, perfect and ready for a Kodak-worthy run>jump>hug>twirl.

I frump about the place, fumbling for my glasses, just trying to make out the general direction to jog towards, throwing in a skip if I've had a cheeky Chardonnay in transit, and collapsing into the arms of my patiently waiting companion.

Where did it all go wrong?

I've obviously become disillusioned about travel style standards over a period of time, because of said companion, and all the other men like him, confusing matters.

Despite how shit I look when I stumble into view, he still musters up an impressive amount of enthusiasm at my appearance; like he's actually happy to see me, which only adds to the bewilderment that's already brewing over the dude  in 24F who gave me an excitable once-over on the flight.

Maybe I don't look so bad with my frizzy hair and Ugg Boots? Maybe??

Wait. Oh. They're men. I may be a crap sandwich, but I have a pulse. It's a no-brainer. Just a penis.

I look bad.

Dammit! For once I want to walk off that plane and feel like I've just stepped out of a salon. Not like I've just stepped off a curb and been hit by a bus.

But here's the kicker - I do make an effort. I really do! When I get on a plane, I've got full make up, hair done, with a comfortable, yet fairly stylish outfit.

And for some godforsaken reason, I look terrible by wheels down. Why do I suck?

My hair decides to gets way too involved with the situation.

Like I said, my hair is totally 'done' when I arrive on that plane. I've put the time in.

And when I leave, it's impossibly frizzy and greasy at the same time. It smells like roast beef and peas. And then there's the mess of knots at the crown of my head, where I cosily snuggled into my stained headrest.

The solution is quite logical really - dry shampoo, hairbrush, bobby pins.

The bobby pins can secure my hair off my face to minimize the greasiness, and before I get off the plane, I'll go for a blast of the dry shampoo, followed by a brush through to loosen the knots, tame the frizz, and turn down the dial on the eau de beef. Sorted.

My skin is a McChicken combo.

As a result of the dirty air swirling about the cabin, during a flight, my skin is an exotic combination of greasy and dry all at the same time. It's like magic.

Usually, I'd board the plane with a full face of make up, and I'm starting to think that's not helping the situation. It would seem that your garden variety cosmetics can survive kisses and cups of tea, but they were not designed to withstand a long haul flight.

For my next trip, I'm going sans make up for the first time.

I'm going to roll with a fresh face, and crank out an oil-free moisturiser regularly to keep myself from shrivelling into a craisin (dried cranberry, delicious).

Before I de-plane, I'll head to the bathroom, use one of my Neutrogena cleansing wipes, rinse my face, and start again, with a little moisturiser (especially under the eyes to calm the puffiness), light foundation, blush, lip gloss and mascara. I'm pretty sure I'll look amazing. Everyone knows mobile toilet make up application leads to the best possible results.

I don't own a velour tracksuit.

And now, the outfit.

Black leggings have become my go-to for travelling these days - they're comfortable, light, and do a great job of displaying my lady areas. Ahem.

However, it's what you wear with the leggings, isn't it.

Comfort is important, but style has to feature in your clothing considerations, especially if there is a member of the opposite sex waiting for you in the arrival lounge - or some paparazzi, you know, whatever.

Heels are a bridge too far for me on a plane, especially because I usually need to run at some point in my terminal traverse. Flats would be the obvious option, but do little to flatter the leg, and too much to create the illusion of a cankle. Wedges it is. Height to give the leg some shape, with a heel that wouldn't say no to a light trot.

Cotton has to be the choice for up top, layers; key, for the changable temperatures, and a cute scarf and jacket combo to complete the look. Think rock star. Rock star in Economy.

I get cold sweats. The grossest kind.

Ok, last bit, which was left until now because it's gross and it pertains to personal hygiene matters.

TMI Moment: I get very *clammy* on planes. The weird faux-air they pump through the vessel doesn't work for me, and I distribute my time between being hot sweaty and being cold sweaty. Neither types of sweaty are ideal, and it's not the perfect foundation for someone attempting to exude fabulousity.

Those wipes I mentioned earlier may come in handy again, to provide a little clean up in lieu of a shower. Deodorant goes in the carry on, with a sample size perfume to create a scent of air travel success, and even a change of t-shirt in case of a real perspiration-related emergency.

Won't help you during the many other emergencies that may arise while travelling through the sky upon a mechanical bird, mind you.

So, am I still crap?

I took off on my trip, a red-eye, no less, with no make up, simple hair, and a leggings/long white tee/leather jacket/scarf/wedge ankle boots outfit combo. How did I do?

I started off shiny and blotchy one hour in, progressed to frizzy by the stopover, and, after a hefty application of every single product I could jam into my sealable plastic baggie...I arrived looking somewhat reasonable.

 I actually felt better at the end of the flight than I've ever felt at the end of a flight.

In your face air travel. I win.