Is ‘Clean Beauty’ a Dirty Lie? Let’s Uncover the Truth!
Demystifying “clean” beauty evidence over hype.
If a product is labeled clean, what does that make everything else?
Dirty? Unsafe? Toxic?
The word shows up on packaging all the time, but it’s rarely defined.
There’s no regulatory standard, no clinical threshold, no consistent meaning behind the label.
Clean is whatever a brand decides it is.
Still, it’s everywhere.
You’ll find “clean” on moisturizers, mascaras, and mouthwashes, sometimes with a list of banned ingredients, sometimes with a vague promise of being “better for you.”
And even though the language is murky, people are clearly responding to it.
It reflects a bigger shift: consumers want to know what they’re putting on and in their bodies.
So let’s talk about it.
Clean beauty isn’t always evidence-based, but that doesn’t mean the concept is worthless.
Wanting to reduce exposure, limit unnecessary ingredients, or avoid hormone disruptors isn’t wrong.
It just gets lost when the conversation is driven by marketing instead of science.
In this article, I’m breaking down where the clean beauty movement came from, what the science actually says about so-called “toxic” ingredients, and how I think about clean formulation in my own brand.
Because while the word itself might be vague, the goal (less harm, more transparency) is worth talking about.
Where “Clean Beauty” Actually Came From
The term “clean beauty” didn’t come from science.
It came from marketing.
It started gaining traction in the early 2000s as a response to concerns about parabens, sulfates, and synthetic preservatives.
These ingredients were flagged (sometimes with good reason, sometimes not) and “clean” became a catch-all term for products that left them out.
But there’s a problem.
There’s no universal definition for what clean actually means.
One brand might define it as “free from 1,000+ ingredients,” while another might focus on being plant-based or cruelty-free.
Retailers like Sephora or Ulta have their own internal “clean” standards, but even those are inconsistent and change often.
A lot of early clean beauty branding leaned heavily on the idea that natural is safer and synthetic is dangerous.
That binary doesn’t hold up under scrutiny.
Arsenic is natural. So is poison ivy.
Plenty of synthetics are stable, effective, and well-studied (hello, nano hydroxyapatite!).
Plenty of natural ingredients can be irritating or contaminated.
The issue isn’t that consumers wanted safer options. The issue is that the conversation was built on fear instead of facts.
When fear drives the narrative, nuance gets lost. And as my longtime readers know, I’m all about nuance.
The Science Behind “Toxins” in Beauty
Let’s start with the obvious: everything is a chemical.
Water is a chemical. Oxygen is a chemical.
The word “toxin” gets thrown around in beauty marketing like it means something specific, but it doesn’t always.
What actually matters is the dose, the delivery system, and how your body processes the ingredient.
Take parabens, for example.
They’ve been demonized for years, mostly due to some flawed studies and a lot of bad headlines.
In reality, parabens are some of the most studied and well-tolerated preservatives we have.
They’re effective at very low concentrations, which makes them ideal for preventing microbial growth without sensitizing the skin.
In fact, many so-called “clean” products that avoid parabens end up using alternatives that can be more irritating or less stable.
And yet, I can also understand endocrine disruption concerns around parabens, and I would never fault someone for wanting to reduce their exposure to parabens.
Fragrance is another ingredient that’s constantly labeled as “toxic.”
And yes, fragrance can be a problem for people with sensitive skin or conditions like rosacea.
But again, the risk depends on how much is used, how often it’s applied, and the context. It’s not a yes-or-no question.
That said, this doesn’t mean anything goes. Harm reduction matters.
Ingredient transparency matters.
Some ingredients do have questionable safety profiles when used chronically or in large amounts, especially in products applied daily.
Endocrine-disrupting chemicals, microplastics, and persistent environmental pollutants are real concerns, even if the individual risk from a single product is low.
This is where a more nuanced approach matters.
You don’t need to fear every long ingredient name on a label.
But you should be paying attention to what you’re using regularly, and what your skin actually needs.
Why the Clean Label Still Matters to People
The word “clean” might be vague, but the reason it took off isn’t hard to understand.
Most people aren’t cosmetic chemists.
They don’t have the time or background to decode ingredient lists or read through toxicology data.
So when a product is labeled as clean, it feels like a shortcut.
Something that signals safety, simplicity, and less risk.
And who can blame people for wanting to feel safer? I certainly can’t.
Even if the term is unregulated, it taps into a real concern. People are paying more attention to what they put on their skin and into their bodies.
They’re reading labels.
They’re googling ingredients.
They’re asking better questions.
Clean beauty became popular because it gave people the sense that they were avoiding unnecessary exposure to potentially harmful ingredients.
That instinct isn’t wrong.
The issue is when clean becomes a stand-in for science, or when it turns into a fear-based marketing tool.
Just because something is labeled clean doesn’t mean it’s effective, gentle, or well-formulated.
And just because something isn’t labeled clean doesn’t mean it’s dangerous.
The better conversation is about transparency, quality, and intent.
Clean is one piece of that, but it’s not the full picture.
How I Think About “Clean” as a Brand Owner
I own an oral care brand called biom, and I call our toothpaste clean.
Not because it sounds good on a label, but because it actually is.
The formula is fluoride-free and uses nano-hydroxyapatite, which has strong clinical backing for remineralization without any systemic risk.
None of the ingredients we use cause harm at the dosages they’re delivered in, and we keep the formula minimal on purpose.
Our toothpaste comes in tablet form, packaged in glass jars.
No plastic, no paste leaking in your dopp kit, and no unnecessary fillers.
The goal was simple: make something effective, safe, and non-toxic that doesn’t contribute to the kind of environmental waste most oral care products do.
That’s what I mean when I say clean. To me, calling something clean isn’t about fear. It’s about formulation.
Are the ingredients necessary?
Are they supported by evidence?
Are they safe when used regularly?
And are we doing what we can to reduce harm to both the body and the environment?
I’m not interested in slapping the clean label on something just to check a box.
If I’m going to use that word, it has to actually mean something. Not just “free from,” but designed with intention.
Where Do We Go From Here?
Clean beauty isn’t going anywhere, but the way we talk about it needs to change.
It’s not enough for a brand to say their product is clean without explaining what that actually means.
If we’re going to use the word, we need standards. Definitions. Transparency.
That doesn’t mean consumers need to become full-time ingredient auditors.
But it does mean asking better questions.
What’s in this product?
Why is it there?
Is it doing something useful?
Is it safe at the concentration used?
What kind of packaging is it in, and how does that affect the planet or the person using it?
The “clean” label can be a helpful starting point, especially if it gets someone thinking more critically about what they’re using.
But it’s not the end of the conversation.
It’s not a guarantee of safety or sustainability or function. And it shouldn’t be treated like one.
The better approach is to stop treating clean like a certification and start treating it like a framework.
One that prioritizes evidence, harm reduction, and quality over buzzwords.
So don’t ignore the clean label entirely, but don’t assume it tells you everything you need to know either.
Look at the formula. Look at the packaging. Look at the brand’s values and what they’re actually doing, not just what they’re saying.
You don’t need a fear-based routine to reduce harm. You need to use context clues.
You need evidence. And you need products that were built with intention.
Cheers,