Jet lag wasn't really a thing back then. Or maybe it was, and everyone just covered it up with a stiff martini and a cigarette. If you've ever looked at a grainy photo of a 1960s Pan Am cabin and felt a weird ping of nostalgia for a time you never actually lived through, you aren't alone. That's the exact itch the Come Fly with Me book—specifically the lush, photo-heavy volume by Jodi Peckman—aims to scratch.
It’s a vibe.
Honestly, picking up this book feels less like reading a history lesson and more like raiding the private photo albums of the world’s coolest travelers. We’re talking about an era where people actually dressed up to sit in a pressurized metal tube for ten hours. It’s wild. Nowadays, we’re lucky if the person in 14B isn't wearing pajama pants with holes in them, but the Come Fly with Me book documents a reality where flight was the ultimate status symbol. It wasn't just about getting from point A to point B; it was about who saw you doing it.
The Paparazzi, the Planes, and the Plastic Boarding Passes
Most people think this is just a book about planes. It’s not. It’s a book about the art of the arrival. Jodi Peckman, who spent years as the photo editor at Rolling Stone, curated a collection that focuses heavily on the "airport look." Before Instagram influencers were faking shots in private jet studios, actual icons like John Lennon, Audrey Hepburn, and Elizabeth Taylor were being caught by the flashbulbs of the paparazzi as they descended those rolling metal stairs.
The Come Fly with Me book captures a very specific transition in global culture.
The photography is the star here. You get these high-contrast black and white shots of the Rolling Stones looking absolutely exhausted but somehow still impeccably styled. You see the sheer scale of the TWA Flight Center at JFK—back when it was a functioning terminal and not a retro-chic hotel. There’s a certain weight to the images. They feel heavy, permanent, and expensive.
Why the Jet Set Era Still Pulls at Us
Why do we care?
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Basically, we’re obsessed with the effort. There’s a photo of Brigitte Bardot in the book that stays with you. She’s surrounded by a swarm of photographers, looking effortlessly detached. It’s a stark contrast to the sterile, high-stress environment of modern TSA lines and "gate lice" crowding the boarding area. The Come Fly with Me book works because it functions as a time machine. It reminds us that there was a window of time, roughly between 1950 and 1975, where the world felt simultaneously smaller and more mysterious.
Commercial aviation was the "Space Race" for the average person. Well, the average wealthy person.
What the Come Fly with Me Book Gets Right About Fashion
Peckman’s eye is ruthless. She didn't just pick "nice" photos; she picked photos that tell a story about power and mobility. You’ll notice the luggage. Everyone has these hard-sided suitcases that look like they weigh fifty pounds empty. No four-wheeled spinners here.
- There are the suits: Sharp, narrow lapels.
- The hats: Necessary for both men and women.
- The eyewear: Enormous frames that screamed "don't talk to me unless you're a director."
The book highlights how the airport terminal became the new red carpet. In the mid-century, if you were a celebrity, the walk from the cabin door to the limousine was a performance. You weren't just a passenger; you were an ambassador of glamour. The Come Fly with Me book documents this performance with a sort of gritty realism that offsets the shiny PR photos Pan Am used to put out.
It’s Not All Glitz and Glamour
Let's be real for a second. The "Golden Age" had its downsides. The planes were louder. They vibrated. Everyone was blowing smoke into the recycled air. But the book doesn't really focus on the mechanics or the discomfort. It focuses on the myth.
It’s about the aspiration.
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When you flip through the pages, you aren't looking for a technical manual on the Boeing 707. You're looking for that feeling of unlimited possibility. You're looking at Frank Sinatra—who, obviously, gave the book its spiritual title via his 1958 hit—stepping off a plane with a trench coat slung over his shoulder. It’s iconic for a reason.
The Cultural Impact of the "Aviation Aesthetic"
It’s interesting how this specific book has become a staple on coffee tables from Brooklyn to Berlin. It fits into that mid-century modern obsession that just won't quit. But beyond the decor value, the Come Fly with Me book serves as a primary source for costume designers and stylists. If you’ve watched Mad Men or The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, you’ve seen the influence of the photography contained in these pages.
The color palettes are distinct. You have those saturated 1960s teals and oranges that look like they’ve been baked in the sun.
Even the way people stood back then was different. There’s a certain posture—a "cocktail party at 30,000 feet" energy—that Peckman manages to highlight through her selection of candid shots. It’s rarely about the plane itself; it’s about how the plane made people feel. Like they were part of an elite club where the initiation fee was just a very expensive ticket and a willingness to look your best while dehydrated.
A Masterclass in Curation
Jodi Peckman’s background at Rolling Stone is the secret sauce here. A traditional aviation historian would have focused on the engines. A fashion historian might have focused on the designers like Emilio Pucci, who famously designed the "space bubble" helmets for Braniff International flight attendants.
Peckman does something different.
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She focuses on the human element of celebrity travel. She finds the moments where the mask slips—the tired eyes behind the Dior sunglasses, the frantic scramble to move through a crowd of fans. The Come Fly with Me book is as much about the pressure of fame as it is about the joy of flight.
Actionable Takeaways for Your Own Travels
You probably aren't going to start wearing a three-piece suit on your next flight to Orlando. That ship has sailed. However, the Come Fly with Me book does offer some subtle wisdom for the modern traveler who wants to reclaim a bit of that dignity.
First, invest in one good piece of leather luggage. It doesn't have to be vintage, but something that doesn't scream "polyester" goes a long way. Second, think about your "transit uniform." The book shows that you can be comfortable without looking like you just rolled out of bed. A structured jacket or a crisp pair of dark jeans is the modern equivalent of the mid-century travel suit.
Finally, treat the journey as part of the destination. We spend so much time trying to "survive" flights that we forget the sheer miracle of being above the clouds.
Next Steps for the Inspired Traveler:
- Audit your travel gear. Look for items that prioritize form alongside function. Swap the plastic neck pillow for a high-quality wrap and replace the flimsy backpack with a structured tote or messenger bag.
- Visit an aviation museum. To really appreciate the scale of what you see in the book, stand next to a retired Concorde or a 747-100. The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum or the Museum of Flight in Seattle offers the physical context that makes the photos in the book pop.
- Practice the "Digital Fast." The celebrities in the book aren't looking at phones; they’re reading newspapers, talking, or looking out the window. On your next flight, try spending the first hour without a screen. Bring a physical book—maybe even this one—and just exist in the space.
The Come Fly with Me book isn't just a collection of old photos. It’s a reminder that we used to treat the world as a place worth dressing up for. While we can't bring back the legroom or the free-flowing champagne of 1965, we can certainly bring back the attitude.