Modern clothing is a technological marvel — it’s brighter than ever, more flame-resistant, more water-repellent.
It’s also often toxic. The properties we’ve come to know and expect stem from fossil fuel-derived chemicals that, according to a growing body of research, are making people sick.
There are the brominated azobenzene disperse dyes, which give polyester clothes their bright colors but can cause skin inflammation. There are the per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, also known as PFAS or “forever chemicals,” which make clothes waterproof but are linked to thyroid disorders and cancer. There are carcinogens like formaldehyde, used for bleaching or to prevent mold, and hormone disruptors like NPEO, used as a cleaning agent.
And then there are the hundreds, if not thousands, of chemicals that we know vanishingly little about. Paltry funding and patchy oversight from the Environmental Protection Agency and the Consumer Product Safety Commission, an independent federal agency, mean the U.S. government isn’t checking most of the clothes we buy for toxicity. When problems do arise for people — when they suspect that their clothing is behind their pesky rash, their wheezing cough, their splotchy skin — they are often disbelieved and offered little to no recourse from manufacturers, whether in the form of reimbursed medical bills or monetary damages.
This all-too-familiar story played out in a big way during the 2010s, when flight attendants at four major airlines began reporting severe reactions to new uniforms made from synthetic fabrics. Headaches, dizziness, loss of memory — even being near other flight attendants who had the clothes on seemed to cause symptoms, in a few cases. For some employees, the reactions were so bad they had to be hospitalized. Others began limiting their time on the plane, and some eventually quit — or were fired for taking too many unexcused absences.
Usually, it’s hard to pin symptoms precisely on clothing, but the flight attendants had all begun wearing the uniforms at the same time and were consistently keeping them on for long periods in a small, enclosed space. This suggested that it was the uniforms, and not another factor, that was causing their symptoms. Public health researchers at Harvard University later analyzed contemporaneous survey data and found a significant increase in the prevalence of rashes, itchy eyes, sore throats, shortness of breath, and other health complaints after Alaska Airlines introduced its new uniforms. (Three of the airlines, including Alaska, eventually ordered new uniforms, but without admitting the old ones had caused health problems.)
Alden Wicker, a sustainable fashion writer, documents the story in To Dye For, her new book on the fashion industry’s toxic underbelly. Hazardous substances have been used in clothes for centuries, she told Grist, but with the advent of fossil fuel-based chemistry, the dangers have multiplied, growing alongside the number of unpronounceable chemicals available to today’s clothiers. Many of these chemicals act in concert with each other: toxic on their own, but potentially even worse when mixed together on the same piece of fabric. Scientists know alarmingly little about how these chemical combinations affect human health, GRIST reported.
“We’re just immersed in this miasma of chemicals that researchers know are toxic, and nobody’s protecting us,” Wicker said. Out of the up to 60,000 chemical substances and polymers currently registered for use in various industries, the U.S. only bans three from textiles, and that’s only for children’s products.
Grounded in the firsthand experiences of those flight attendants — some of whom are still fighting for their symptoms to be recognized by their airlines, doctors, and insurance companies — To Dye For reveals how the fashion industry got here and what needs to change to keep people safe.