March 13, 2026
If you picture a Second World War pilot’s working gear, you might imagine leather jackets or olive drab flight clothing. The journey over time — from homemade clothing solutions for the cold cockpits of bush planes, to the bright orange suits of today’s NASA — coincides with the evolution of flight itself. The shift from muted military tones to International Orange is not just a matter of style; it is a story about survival.
Early flight suits were primarily meant for insulation. The very first fliers often took off in a tweed coat, scarf and cap. After all, they weren’t flying very long or very far. As aircraft capability advanced, cockpits remained unpressurized and became even more frigid as altitude increased. Planes began flying through adverse weather conditions, and pilots depended on layers of wool and leather. Early aviators often found their own solutions to these challenges. Tweed suits eventually disappeared, as pilots didn’t want their good clothes damaged by oil leaks or harsh weather. Drawing from northern expertise, Canadian bush pilots used materials such as beaver fur for hats, with clothing made of wool for insulation and leather to battle the elements.
Colours such as olive drab, blue or brown were adopted by the world’s military powers as air forces were developed. They drew from the existing traditional uniforms of their countries’ militaries. Early air forces did not yet have specialized flying gear, but motoring gear had already been in production for some time and was repurposed and adopted by these new flying corps.
As flight technology advanced, pilots’ suits became deliberately different. Air forces around the world began to understand the unique requirements of aviators and started addressing their specific needs.
Frederick Sidney Cotton would make history as the first person to design an official pilot’s outfit. An event that shook the world — the sinking of the Lusitania — incensed Sidney, and he decided to leave his native Australia and go to England to join the forces. He joined the Royal Naval Air Service and learned to fly in 1916. In that same winter, he devised the cold-resistant “Sidcot” flying suit – after he’d accidentally worn his working overalls when called to fly, and found that after an hour of flight he was unaffected by the cold thanks to his oil and grease stained workwear. He had his tailor make a special suit of light Burberry material with a lining of thin fur and air-proof silk, together with fur cuffs and neck. It is considered by historians to be the first deliberately developed pilot’s gear and was widely used by civilians and the military until the 1950s. According to reports, when Manfred von Richthofen (otherwise known as the Red Baron) was shot down, he was found to be wearing a suit of similar design.
Conflict invariably brings rapid technological development. By the time we jump ahead to the Cold War, flight had significantly changed. The race to develop more advanced technology saw the old challenges of the cockpit replaced by new ones. High-altitude jets, Arctic patrols and long-range operations increased both reach and risk. Ejection seats were developed, improving survival odds for pilots — but only if rescue forces could locate the crew quickly.
Winnipeg, the home of the Royal Aviation Museum, has its own Early Connection to the development of Flight Gear.
Known for its tents, sleeping bags and outdoor clothing, the Woods Manufacturing Company was one of the largest producers of canvas goods in Canada, with several factories and offices across the country.
Woods produced military textiles during both world wars, the same period when early aviation clothing was evolving from leather and wool garments into purpose-built flight gear.
In 1982, Woods outfitted the first Canadians to reach the summit of Mount Everest. Wearing Woods insulated jackets, Laurie Skreslet of Calgary and sherpas Sungdare and Lhakpa Dorje were the first to reach the top.
High-visibility orange suits began appearing in roles where over-water or remote operations were common. The logic was simple: bright colour contrasts sharply against ocean, forest, or snow. Why orange? It is not just bright; it is also a colour that does not often appear in nature and stands out dramatically to human perception.
With radio, ejection seats and other advancements, survival for the pilot was built into aircraft systems — and in turn, into the suits pilots wore. Pilots were valuable. The time and money spent preparing a pilot represented a significant investment.
For Canada, this focus on visibility carries particular meaning. With one of the largest areas of responsibility for search and rescue in the world — spanning oceans, mountains, prairie, and Arctic tundra — Canada has developed a globally respected SAR program, one of the key aspects of the RCAF. The bright red and yellow aircraft of the Royal Canadian Air Force, from helicopters to fixed-wing search aircraft, are a familiar and reassuring sight in moments of crisis across the country.
Canadian SAR technicians are trained to parachute into remote terrain, endure extreme weather and stabilize those in distress. In winter, against endless white. At sea, against steel-grey water. In forests, against deep green. Orange is highly visible. High-visibility gear is not just symbolic of Canada’s commitment to search and rescue operations — it is practical. It reduces search time, increasing the chance of survival in dangerous conditions, and in its own way has become an enduring symbol of the RCAF’s commitment to respond wherever and whenever needed.
NASA formally adopted the high-visibility approach with the Advanced Crew Escape Suit (ACES), introduced in the late 1980s during the Space Shuttle era. Worn during launch and re-entry — the most hazardous phases of flight — the suit’s International Orange colour ensures astronauts can be quickly located following an emergency landing.
Its adoption followed a period of reflection after the loss of Challenger in 1986. Crew survivability became central to spacecraft design and procedure. The bright orange suit became a visible commitment to that lesson.
Before astronauts launch on the upcoming Artemis missions to the Moon, they will suit up in a bright orange spacesuit called the Orion Crew Survival System (OCSS). This spacesuit, worn inside the spacecraft during dynamic activities such as launch and re-entry through Earth’s atmosphere, is designed for a custom fit and equipped with technological features to help protect astronauts on launch day, in emergency situations, and throughout high-risk parts of missions near the Moon, as well as the high-speed return to Earth. The outer cover layer — orange to make crew members easily visible in the ocean should they ever need to exit Orion without the assistance of recovery personnel — includes shoulder enhancements for better reach and is fire-resistant.
Even though it is primarily designed for launch and re-entry, the Orion suit can keep astronauts alive if Orion were to lose cabin pressure during the journey out to the Moon, while adjusting orbits in Gateway (a small, international space station), or on the way back home. Astronauts could survive inside the suit for up to six days as they make their way back to Earth. The suits are also equipped with a suite of survival gear in the event they must exit Orion after splashdown before recovery personnel arrive. Each suit carries its own life preserver containing a personal locator beacon, a rescue knife and a signalling kit with a mirror, strobe light, flashlight, whistle, and light sticks.
When we see Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen training in his orange launch and entry suit for future lunar missions, we are witnessing the continuation of a design lineage shaped by decades of aviation experience.
From homespun solutions to olive drab wartime flight gear to high-visibility survival systems, the evolution of the flight suit reflects a growing understanding: technology advances, but risk never disappears.
What changes is how deliberately we prepare for it.
International Orange has become more than a colour. In aviation and spaceflight, it signals readiness, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to bringing crews home — whether from a windswept Arctic icefield, the open Atlantic, or the edge of space.
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