A history of the navigator

A history of the navigator

You’d be forgiven for thinking that ‘the aviator’ (spectacles and sunglasses featuring sweeping teardrop lenses and a double bridge) was the defining frame of the aviator (people who fly). Developed in the 1930s for the US Air Force, their potential was seized upon by civilians when they became available at the end of that decade, popularised for the masses by a brand that rhymes with ‘hey, man’, and coming to epitomise skybound eye-wear.

Written by

Henry Whaley

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A report comparing the navigator to its predecessor, and coming up in favour of the newer model.

But there’s less fanfare for ‘the navigator’, its more recent descendant. In the late 1950s, the Air Force looked to develop a new frame style to suit higher altitudes, balancing a lightweight frame and comfort between helmet and oxygen mask. With the introduction of the HGU-4/P model, the navigator was created. The linguistic leap tells you something of the advancement. They weren’t just for flying. They were for discovering.

A document published by the Air Force at the time demonstrates the advancements represented by the navigator, finding that they were ‘preferable’ to the earlier G2, ‘especially with respect to temple construction, lighter weight, and stability of fit.’

The navigator's more lauded predecessor, the aviator. This model is the AN 6531, worn by an american test pilot in 1942.

Apollo astronauts on geology training in June 1964.

Walter Cunningham working on Apollo 7, donning a pair of standard issue navigators.

With square lenses and a shallower profile, the navigator advanced the form following function logic of aviation sunglasses. The navigator was the frame of choice for the Apollo and Mercury astronauts, their greater functionality making them well-suited for space cadets.

Gradually, they made their way into the canon of civvy spectacles, without ever really challenging the aviator. Proponents have included Station to Station-era Bowie, Oceans-era Brad Pitt, and—recently—Slow Horses-era Gary Oldman as Jackson Lamb. The latter wears Cubitts Collier, with tape holding together one of the temples. An old service tool that’s been through the ringer, the metaphorical usage of the navigator is apt. Of course, Jackson could have the frame repaired at a Cubitts store.

So, if you’re ever wearing a Collier or Killick and someone comments ‘nice aviators’, peer over the top, fix them in the eye, and tell them: ‘it’s actually a navigator’.