• I used to work as a flight attendant, and I prefer passengers keep the shades closed during flights.
• Passengers are typically calmer and sleepier when the cabin is dark, which worked well for us.
• Shades should only be open during takeoff and landing, which is the best time for photos anyway.

There's a long-standing, quiet battle happening in airplane cabins around the world, and it's all about window shades.

Who actually owns control of the shade — the person sitting in the window seat, the cabin crew, or the row as a collective? (Opinions remain fairly divided.) Is it better for the shade to stay open or closed throughout the flight?

Between viral social media debates and endless discussions on flight etiquette, everyone seems to have an opinion, and so do I. For nearly a decade, I worked as a flight attendant with an international airline.

That means I've examined thousands of window shades before takeoff and landing to ensure they were open, just as I checked seatbacks were upright.

Many airlines require the shades to be open during these times, which makes sense to me from a safety standpoint. It's helpful to have a clear view outside in an emergency, and in case ground rescue teams need to see inside the plane.

However, once we hit cruising altitude, those safety rules pause, and my personal one kicks in: The window shades should be closed while we're in the air.

I've found that open shades can ruin sleep cycles and make a cabin rowdier

I honestly hate it when passengers keep their shades wide open, and it's especially bad on long, international flights. I know firsthand how crossing multiple time zones can be exhausting for the body.

Often, the best way to save passengers from severe jet lag is to help them get quality sleep in the air — and let's be honest, as a flight attendant, I definitely had a vested interest in keeping everyone happy and well-rested.

So, on long flights, my crew and I would intentionally dim the cabin lights to simulate nighttime and encourage everyone to rest. Even so, it only took one open window shade to ruin that peaceful environment for an entire section of the plane.

When blinding sunlight poured in, it didn't just wake sleeping passengers — it also created a terrible glare on laptops, tablets, and phones.

I've lost track of how many frustrated passengers rang their call buttons to complain to me about it, and how often I ended up having to mediate arguments about window shades.

Early on in my career, I also observed how ambient light seemed to directly change passenger behavior. Whenever we dimmed the cabin lights, travelers seemed to naturally settle down, read quietly, or go to sleep.

But when a flight stayed brightly lit, passengers more often stayed awake, chatted loudly, and ordered more alcohol, sometimes turning the flight into a party.

All in all, keeping the cabin dark tended to make the entire flight so much calmer, safer, and easier for us to manage. As my colleagues and I always used to say: A sleeping passenger is the best passenger!

If you're looking for good views and photos, you're better off waiting anyway

One of the most common reason passengers give for keeping their shades up is to take photos or enjoy the view. Although I completely understand the desire for a great aerial shot, the reality at 35,000 feet is usually underwhelming.

Most of the time, all you can see out the window is blinding white haze, cloud cover, or vast emptiness. The direct sunlight at high altitudes is often too harsh for a clean picture anyway.

If you really want great photos for your travel feed, the best time to take them is during descent and approach.

As the plane lowers toward the destination, you can actually get a clear, detailed view of cities, coastlines, and landscapes — and during those moments, the shades are already usually required to be open for safety reasons anyway.

Ultimately, though, the status of the shade is up to the passenger

Unlike takeoff and landing, where keeping shades open is often a mandatory safety rule, mid-flight shade policy is more about etiquette.

As flight attendants, we couldn't strictly enforce or mandate that passengers close them, as window-shade status isn't regulated by the Federal Aviation Administration.

However, many of us made a point of strongly requesting and encouraging the shades to be shut for the comfort of the whole cabin.

Now, whenever I'm sitting in the window seat as a passenger, I practice what I preach. The shade stays wide open for takeoff, goes straight down as soon as we hit cruising altitude, and pops back up on our final approach.

Pulling that shade down mid-flight is a tiny move, but it makes a world of difference. It can help keep the cabin dark and calm, let your fellow passengers sleep, and prevent a full-blown glare dispute at 35,000 feet.

• I enjoyed living in a small, one-bedroom apartment with my family of three for years.
• Once we moved to a house more than triple the size, I totally changed my minimalist mindset.
• Now that we live in a bigger space, I can't imagine going back to living small or minimally.

When my husband and I bought our apartment in Kyiv back in 2017, we were thrilled to finally have a family nest of our own.

It was a cozy, 500-square-foot place with one bedroom, and we meticulously planned to optimize every inch of it. Our kitchen table doubled as my workspace, and our living room couch became the guest bed whenever family stayed over.

Hosting required pure creative problem-solving and, with limited seating around our small table, I'd sometimes feed guests in shifts. It was chaotic at times, but I didn't mind.

After our son was born, bright plastic toys, endless boxes of diapers, and bulky baby gear started claiming every free corner of our apartment. With the three of us packed into a single bedroom, finding space was a daily puzzle, but we made it work.

Surprisingly, living so close together didn't feel limited back then — it felt intimate, cozy, and deeply fulfilling. Then COVID-19 hit.

Spending so much time indoors made me feel isolated, and for the first time, I began dreaming about more living space. But we barely had time to figure things out before life took a drastic turn: When the war in Ukraine escalated in 2022, we made the heavy, life-changing decision to relocate to Canada.

A few months after moving, we began renting a two-bedroom house, where we currently reside. At 1,700 square feet, it wasn't considered especially large by local standards, but to us, it felt vast.

It didn't take long to adjust to having more space — and to quickly fill it up

At first, our house seemed almost too large for just three people.

For the first time, we had two bedrooms and a basement, which instantly doubled our usable space at a ground level.

After years of apartment living, though, the sheer thought of having so much space to keep clean felt exhausting. However, it didn't take long to change my mind.

It turns out that when both you and your belongings finally have room to breathe — and you've got a trusty robot vacuum doing the heavy lifting — life shines in completely different colors.

It's also been wonderful to have more room to host, from a dedicated guest space (in the basement) to a table big enough to actually seat larger groups.

In time, we began to pick up local habits and traditions, too. Many of our neighbors in Canada decorate for different holidays, so we started joining in.

And of course, seasonal decor needs a place to be stored when it's not in use — and since we now had a full basement, I didn't feel super limited with what I could buy.

A lot of neighbors also had an extra stand-alone freezer in their homes. It seemed ridiculous for our family of three to also get one … until my first Costco run.

I caved when I realized I needed a place for all those bulk-sized boxes of frozen food. In our bigger home, large grocery hauls began feeling normal.

Gradually, I felt a shift in my identity: I was no longer the strict minimalist I used to be.

In Kyiv, whenever my husband wanted a new kitchen gadget or a giant toy truck for our son, I was firm about saying no. We simply didn't have room for "extra." I took pride in keeping our home completely clutter-free.

But between the extra space and North American convenience, I'd completely changed my minimalist rules. Now, saying "yes" to big additions — like the bulky food dehydrator I'd been eyeing for drying fruits and vegetables, or the roomy couch we'd dreamed of for years — felt easy.

I didn't need to worry about where something would be stored or if it'd take up too much space: We finally had the room to bring those dreams home.

Ultimately, my family and I have thrived with more room to breathe

Over time, I realized this shift was much deeper than just being able to shop more and store more stuff. In a bigger space, our family had room to breathe and grow.

In Kyiv, our whole routine and my minimalist mindset felt shaped by how tight everything felt, but here, the extra room opened up a whole new chapter.

I've become more outgoing, more relaxed, and genuinely excited to gather people together. Our home has turned into a place for hosting friends, cooking weekend dinners, and laughing over backyard barbecues.

Living small was a beautiful, intimate part of my life that I will always hold close to my heart. It taught me intentionality and gratitude.

However, creating space to thrive, host, and watch my family grow has completely transformed my definition of home — now, going back to 500 square feet no longer feels like an option.