Call it one small step for man, one giant leap BACK for ladykind.

From day one, Blue Origin’s all-female rocket launch was billed as a long-overdue suborbital union of science and glam. A triumph of Girl Power!

However, this testosterone-free exhibition turned out to be a perplexing presentation of the very stereotypes that women typically strive to overcome throughout their lives.

On Monday, Amazon gazillionaire Jeff Bezos looked on proudly as his well-augmented fiancée and five of her gal pals – recently-reinvigorated pop star Katy Perry, CBS anchor Gayle King, activist Amanda Nguyen, film producer Kerianne Flynn and NASA rocket scientist Aisha Bowe – pranced down a gangway to board an oddly phallic rocket to blast off for 11-minutes near heaven.

Well, everyone but Gayle King was prancing. I haven’t seen her that terrified since she interviewed R. Kelly. But regardless, from the get-go, it seemed this low-earth bachelorette party wasn’t going to be the exercise in female empowerment that it was cracked up to be.

Let’s start with their figure-hugging Star Trek-inspired space suits designed by Monse co-founder Fernando Garcia.

Gracia said he wanted to make ‘something that was a little dangerous, like a motocross outfit. Or a ski suit. Flattering and sexy,’ because when I think of the greatest exposition since the women’s suffrage movement, I think cleavage.

‘Space is going to finally be glam,’ gushed ‘I Kissed a Girl’ singer Perry before the flight. ‘Let me tell you something, if I could take glam up with me, I would do that. We are going to put the “ass” in astronaut.’

On Monday, Amazon gazillionaire Jeff Bezos looked on proudly as his well-augmented fiancée and five of her gal pals pranced down a gangway to board an oddly phallic rocket to blast off for 11-minutes near heaven.

Gracia said he wanted to make ‘something that was a little dangerous, like a motocross outfit. Or a ski suit. Flattering and sexy,’ because when I think of the greatest exposition since the women’s suffrage movement, I think cleavage.

You go, you 40-year-old ingenue!

Activist Amanda Nguyen dumbed herself down long enough to squeak, ‘I’m going to be wearing lipstick.’

Amanda the Lionhearted. So, so brave.

There was even a pre-launch meeting to contemplate what underwear Sánchez would wear in space.

‘Skims!’ she revealed in a New York Times interview this week.

I would have gone with Pampers. But that’s just me.

Upon liftoff the world watched on their screens as Jeff’s Weiner-Shuttle rocketed upwards and the cameras panned around to show all the celebs that had come to observe and take part in this global Symposium of Self-Importance.

There was Chrissy Teigen, whose face itself is a testament to defying gravity, C-list Kardashians Khloe and Kris Jenner (what, Rob wasn’t available?), no doubt in Skims as well, and Katy Perry’s sex monkey Orlando Bloom.

They’re all pioneers in a way – as lost and hopeless as the Donner Party.

Then, for a split second, I thought something had gone awry when audio from inside the capsule was played and we heard the lassie-pack shrieking like cheerleaders in a slasher movie being disemboweled.

But thankfully, everything went off without a hitch and once at the edge of space – an altitude of 62 miles above Earth’s surface – the all-female crew of Blue Origin put their petty primping and trivialities aside and conducted an experiment to advance human progress.

Just kidding! They floated around in zero gravity, squealing like co-eds at a sorority pillow fight. And instead of staring in awe out the windows , contemplating their cosmic insignificance in contrast to the vastness of the void, they posed for space selfies.

Perry led the self-indulgent inanity by holding up a cut-out of a butterfly, revealing her set list for an upcoming concert tour – and then reportedly belting out Louis Armstrong’s ‘What A Wonderful World.’

I would have breached the airlock.

In space, no one can hear you scream!

Back on Earth, the freak show continued.

Forever-nerd Bezos ran up to the capsule, tripping and falling flat on his face, proving that you can pump your pecs and buy your girlfriend a billion-dollar yacht, but there’s no known cure for being a hopeless dork.

Then, one-by-one each astro-NOT emerged from the Blue Organ, performing a no-doubt pre-rehearsed demonstration.

Perry and King dropped to their knees to kiss the Earth. Others pointed skyward. Jeff ‘The Geek’ looked on.

Perry and King dropped to their knees to kiss the Earth. Others pointed skyward. Jeff ‘The Geek’ looked on.

But even a voyage beyond the reach of all but the most accomplished (or in this case privileged) human beings in the history of the world can teach these gals humility.

These chicks aren’t astronauts. They’re leg-humping fabulists who ingratiated themselves with a billionaire for a little publicity. They’re space tourists, and their dumb stunt does nothing for humanity or space exploration, regardless of their gametes.

Sorry, sisters, but you’re no Valentina Tereshkova – the first woman in space, who flew on a solo mission in a flimsy Russian craft in 1963 during the Cold War.

That took some real asteroids. And no make-up.

University of Birmingham space scientist Dr Garrett Dorian said it best: ‘Let’s call it what it is and not tell ourselves that this is contributing meaningfully to science or space exploration. I am afraid I do still think these flights are essentially just joyrides for the super-rich.’

Hear hear! Or should I say, Her Her?