Working in maintenance usually means you’ll pick up some dirt on your clothes. Naturally, with the infallible logic of companies, they generally provided the troops with white coveralls on the theory I suppose, that you would do your utmost not to get them dirty. Some companies only provided coveralls or uniforms for mechanics working in the public view such as at the terminal. The ones back at the hangar and shops were to provide and launder their own. This sometimes led to the spectacle of passengers looking at a ramp populated by respectably uniformed workers suddenly being invaded by a horde of barbarians dressed like hoboes. The barbarians of course were the hangar types who were sent over to work a shift at the terminal. This quickly led to the supply of coveralls in the hangar stockroom, but only to those who were going to the terminal in public view. This meant convincing the clerk you needed a set of coveralls and no you really couldn’t fit into a size 38 because you’re a size 48. Finally, off you would go with the company’s name proudly emblazoned on your back. Unless it was winter of course, in which case you had a parka on.
Up north, parkas are something you live in, in order to survive on a ramp. They keep you warm more or less, and the hood provided protection while you toiled out on the ramp. It also provided something for the oil from the engines and equipment to deposit on and soak into. The thick lining inside sopped it up and a parka could pick up pounds in weight by the end of a winter. This included the stray nuts and washers that found their way through the holes in the pockets and lodged in the seams. Parkas were paid with by payroll deduction so you made it last.
Some airlines have tried to make their ground workers look spiffy. One dressed them in orange coveralls that now would make them look more like prision escapees.
An old fellow I worked with mastered the art of making his parka last. He was nicknamed St. Francis and the zipper on his parka had long ago failed as well an several buttons. To keep the parka closed he used a length of rope tied around his middle and with the hood up he indeed looked like one of the mendicant monks of the middle ages. He was the one who urged me not to take a promotion because of the responsibility that went with it. I admit, there are times when that has appeared attractive, but then I think of him out in the snow and cold at his advanced age and I am happy I’m in my office.
