Your Clothes Might be Toxic, Too.

Phthalates, BPA, PFAS, and Azo Dyes... oh my! (Toxic Chemicals, Part Three).

There are plenty of environmental stories to tell about fashion: The detrimental impact of fast fashion on workers, the enormous greenhouse gas emissions associated with fashion, the way floods of cheap clothing overwhelm secondhand markets and end up discarded in deserts.

But when we talk about clothing, the problems frequently seem distant, somehow affecting people elsewhere, whether the elsewhere is the child labor running a factory or the countries combatting our fast fashion discards. But it turns out there is another environmental story to tell about fashion: The way the clothing we put on even the most private parts of our body can be releasing dangerous chemicals. Alden Wicker dives into exactly this problem in her recent book, To Dye For: How Toxic Fashion Is Making Us Sick— And How We Can Fight Back [Bookshop, affiliate link].

I’m a few months late to the press party on this one; her book was published in mid-2023. But as soon as I dove into her work, I realized what an important story she has to tell.

Clothing production involves any number of toxic chemicals, most of which are not strictly necessary, but are less expensive than safer alternatives. Cotton can contain flame retardants (particularly in children’s pajamas, unless they specifically state “Wear snug-fitting. Not flame resistant.” or are GOTS-certified) or stain repellants. APEO’s, or alkylphenol ethoxylates, are sometimes used for scouring wool or degreasing leather, but are toxic to aquatic life and are suspected to be endocrine disrupters that are particularly damaging to fertility and unborn children. And synthetic fabrics are ripe with chemicals of concern, from BPA and phthalates to lead, cadmium. Water and stain resistant clothing often contains PFAS, or ‘forever chemicals,’ which can— unlike BPA, phthalates, and even lead, all of which can exit the body in a matter of weeks to months— persist in the body for years.

Clothing, particularly synthetic clothing, can also contain azo dyes. Perhaps the least recognized of the chemicals in clothing, azobenzene dyes are derived from fossil fuels and make up “70 percent of the 9.9 million tons of industrial dye colorants used globally each year.” These dyes may have taken over the market, but they are particularly concerning for the human body: These azo dyes release carcinogenic and genotoxic amines when they come in contact with bacteria on our skin. And this isn’t just a theoretical risk: A 2013 study found that, because azo dyes require a dispersing agent to attach to plastic fabric (ie., polyester), they are prone to washing off in water and rubbing onto skin. The risk isn’t even limited just to our skin: A 2023 study found azo dyes in household dust, which is particularly concerning for young children, who happen to spend plenty of time crawling around on floors (and putting things in their mouth!) and who are at higher risk of auto-immune issues from exposure.

These Chemicals Persist for Years

These chemicals aren’t just environmental concerns, used in the manufacturing process but washed away before they reach the consumer. While washing before wearing is still a great idea, most of these chemicals persist on clothing and come into contact with our skin for years.

Fast fashion is, of course, a particular problem. In fact, a study commissioned by the Canadian Broadcast Corporation found that one in five of the items purchased from fast-fashion retailers had concerning levels of lead, PFAS, or phtlalates. In one instance, a toddler jacket purchased from Shein contained nearly 20 times the ‘safe’ limit for lead.

But even clothing from more reputable sources can be problematic: Disney, Adidas, Nike, and the luxury brand Burberry were all flagged by a Greenpeace campaign for chemicals including phthalates, PFAS, and antimony.

And secondhand clothing, unfortunately, despite years of wash and wear, still contains these chemicals. Alden notes on EcoCult that, while VOCs (volatile organic compounds— the smell you may associate with new products or fabrics) may have had plenty of time to off-gas, a study of secondhand clothing still found cadmium, BPA, at least one phthalate, and NPEOs (mostly in wool). Secondhand cotton, perhaps unsurprisingly, was “mostly clean.” None of this is to say that buying secondhand is worse for chemical exposure than purchasing new, simply that it isn’t a magic fix.

Many of the negative effects of these chemicals will take years to fully appear: Even if I one day am diagnosed with cancer, it will be next to impossible to determine whether it was toxic food, toxic clothing, high air pollution, genetics, or all of the above that contributed to the hypothetical diagnosis. But evidence is mounting that these chemicals of concern— which show up, of course, not only in our clothing, but also in our household furnishings, food chain, and environment— are significantly exacerbating auto-immune conditions (from more mild concerns such as eczema to conditions like Crohn’s) and fertility as well as contributing to rising cancer rates.

My take-away, unfortunately, is that consumers need to assume their clothing is potentially toxic, unless they are specifically able to determine otherwise. Emerging advocacy from consumer groups and organizations such as Alden Wicker’s EcoCult also points to some brands that are particularly problematic.

Many of the clothes in my own children’s wardrobe, unfortunately, made the problematic list. My youngest has a wardrobe that’s almost entirely hand-me-down, going at least 3 children strong (we generously received them from a neighbor): The Children’s Place, which was specifically called out for its lack of a chemical management policy (and who narrowly dodged a class-action lawsuit about PFAS in school uniforms); Carter’s, which self-reported formaldehyde, arsenic, and cadmium in its production process; Tea Collection, who I e-mailed about chemicals and azo dyes without a response.

As the girls have grown, they wear through clothes more quickly, so my oldest has more clothing that she’s been gifted by loved ones or that we bought directly. For these purchases, I’m feeling extra thankful that we’ve strongly committed to more sustainable basics: Monica and Andy (check their warehouse site for better deals), Colored Organics, and Little Co. None are perfect, but they are at least meeting some of the basic guidelines for sustainability, including GOTS and OEKO-TEX certifications.

But don’t even get me started on my own wardrobe. Mostly secondhand, my wardrobe contains American Eagle jeans (which appear to contain asbestos, azo dyes, and formaldehyde in its ‘natural fibers’), J. Crew sweaters (mostly circa mid-2010s, at which point J. Crew apparently had no chemical management or disclosure policy), Bombas and Pact (who has recently come under fire for not being as sustainable as they claim) basics. Yikes.

That doesn’t mean that the inclusion of these chemicals is always illegal. In fact, the lack of rigorous chemical management means that, more often than not, dangerous chemicals are completely legal and completely unregulated with no disclosure requirement, creating a landmine for concerned buyers.

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Again, it’s a policy problem.

In the European Union, 22 azo dyes are banned, but “a 2020 study found their amines in half of the 150 textile samples researchers tested, and other research showed that in a quarter of the samples tested, they are present at high enough concentrations to be concerning for our health” (Wicker 53). For the European Union, this is an enforcement problem: The laws exist— although they certainly don’t cover every chemical of concern— but the resources for testing and enforcement aren’t there.

In the United States, though, the problem is worse. There are no federal standards for chemical or dye use on adult clothing sold in the United States (and while there are some regulations for clothing produced in the United States, that reflects less than 3% of the clothing on the market). The state of California offers a few regulations (California and New York will both be banning PFAS in clothing in 2025, Maine will follow in 2030), but for the most part, corporations self-police and rely on industry best guesses for acceptable chemical limits. And perhaps worse, there is virtually no recourse for consumers affected by toxic products.

A handful of lawsuits regarding forever chemicals in clothing (such as The Children’s Place uniforms) have been dismissed. In these cases, it wasn’t because judges didn’t find evidence of PFAS or other toxic chemicals, it was because it’s completely legal to fail to disclose chemicals of concern.

In other cases, beautifully outlined in To Dye For, companies are able to routinely dismiss widespread problems as being the result of a few individual sensitivities. Alden cites more than 3,000 reports of rashes on newborn babies— some of which required emergency room visits— from Carter’s baby clothing labels that were dismissed by the CEO as a “rare allergic reaction in some babies with highly sensitive skin.” Although affected parents filed a lawsuit against Carter’s, the class-action request (and therefore the lawsuit) was dismissed because Carter’s had…again, drumroll please… offered parents a refund on affected items.

Within the Industry

A handful of companies within the fashion industry have committed to chemical reform. While a growing number of companies— thanks to consumer pressure— are publishing restricted chemicals lists, organizations like the Roadmap to Zero Programme by ZDHC are helping a handful of committed companies evaluate their chemical management, wastewater, and even micro-fiber pollution policies.

As a consumer, there are a few certifications that you can look for, although they aren’t necessarily foul-proof:

One is Global Organic Textile Standard, or GOTS-certified, cotton. GOTS regulates every step of the growing and manufacturing process, including regulating wastewater from factories and requiring low-impact chemical processes, such as hydrogen peroxide instead of chlorine bleach for whitening (with chemicals of concern, like formaldehyde and azo disperse dyes, banned for GOTS products). There was a pretty serious scandal a few years ago, when at least 20 metric tons of conventional cotton was fraudulently passed off as organic, because the certification system relied on independent agencies (who in some cases submitted fake certificates) to certify material based on annual checks (which leaves 364 other days a year for factories to do as they please). In the interest of not throwing the baby out with the bath water, GOTS has since implemented stricter direct oversight policies to its certification process— but even with requirements for chemical management, there is no mandated testing for chemicals in the final product. Bluesign, although less common, is another certification that looks at the holistic production process to regulate chemicals and materials in the manufacturing process.

Another certification to look for is OEKO-TEX. Unlike a GOTS or Bluesign certification, OEKO-TEX looks only at the final product, testing for hundreds of chemicals like lead, phthalates, and banned azo dyes (note: it appears not all azo dyes are banned from OEKO-TEX, just those currently known to be of concern). The absolute safest product is probably one that is both GOTS and OEKO-TEX certified (to evaluate the manufacturing process as well as test the final product), but I’ve only seen a handful of brands meet that combination.

My Takeaway

Unlike plastic in our food, which is a uniquely recent problem, toxins in our clothing isn’t an entirely new problem. Mercury in men’s hats led to the phrase “mad as a hatter,” arsenic was used to dye clothing bright green through the 18th century, and celluloid combs worn in women’s hair routinely exploded when exposed to heat. But the scale of the problem today— as well as the perpetuation of synthetics and azo dyes by companies for the sake of profit when better alternatives exist— is still an environmental and health disaster.

My personal response to it is not to immediately hit the panic button and purge my entire wardrobe, or decide it’s time to stop cozying up to my polyester-wearing husband. Of course, if you are actively battling skin sensitivities or an immune condition, maybe the panic button is just what you need. My youngest, for example, has incredibly sensitive skin, so much that even an hour in a conventional diaper can leave her with a rash for a week. Ironically, we spent this week playing whack-a-mole with a mysterious rash, so I’m looking forward to her aging into the less toxic wardrobe we’ve been crafting.

But in the grand scheme of things I’m concerned about, and with the knowledge that we each have limited resources— including financial— to make changes, this is more of a gradual shift to be concerned about as items get worn out and need replaced. And, I’ll be recommending To Dye For to everyone I know.