The Email That Sent Me Down a Rabbit Hole

A few weeks ago, we were asked to sign a declaration.

A simple form.

It asked us to confirm that we do not use PFAS  (“forever chemicals”) in our soaps.

On one level, I almost laughed. We make soap from plant oils. There is no universe in which we would be adding fluorinated industrial chemicals to a bar of soap.

But then I paused.

Why are we being asked this?

And what exactly are PFAS?

Anthony (as you know) is a doctor, and he has been following the research on PFAS for years. He’s talked about them at the dinner table. I’ll admit, I half-listened. It sounded abstract. Industrial. American.

Not soap.

Not Australia.

But that declaration form bothered me.

So I started reading.

And what I found took me somewhere I didn’t expect.

A Cow Farmer and a Corporate Giant

The story of PFAS is not new.

It starts with a lawyer named Robert Bilott. He wrote a book called Exposure.

Bilott wasn’t some environmental crusader. He worked for corporate clients. His firm represented chemical companies.

Until a West Virginia farmer called him.

The farmer’s cattle were dying. Horrifically. Tumours. Blackened teeth. Organ failure... Animals going mad before they collapsed!

He believed it was the nearby DuPont plant.

DuPont "the chemical giant" had been manufacturing a compound called PFOA. It was used to make Teflon. Non-stick. Waterproof. Stain resistant. The kind of chemical miracle product the 20th century adored.

Bilott agreed to look into it.

What he uncovered was staggering.

For decades, DuPont had internal research showing that PFOA accumulated in blood. That it didn’t break down. That it crossed the placenta. That it was linked to cancers and birth defects in lab animals.. and most disturbingly, their employees.

They knew.

They kept producing it anyway.

They dumped waste into unlined landfills. They discharged it into local waterways. They monitored employee blood levels internally.

And they did not tell the public.

If this is sounding familiar, it should.

It echoes the tobacco companies. Internal memos acknowledging cancer risks while publicly casting doubt.

It echoes OxyContin. Data showing addiction risks while pushing aggressive marketing.

In each case, the pattern is the same:

1. Early internal knowledge.
2. Public denial.
3. Decades of delay.
4. Ordinary people paying the price.

In the PFAS case, it was a cow farmer who forced it into the light.

Not a regulator.

Not a government.

A farmer who didn’t want his herd, or the people around him, to die.

Bilott spent years fighting that case. Thousands of internal documents were uncovered. Eventually, class actions followed. Billions in settlements.

But here’s the part that stopped me cold.

PFAS don’t break down.

They persist in soil.

In water.

In blood.

That’s why they’re called forever chemicals.

Wait… Cosmetics?

So why are cosmetics companies being asked to self-declare?

Because PFAS are used in cosmetics.

Not in soap like ours.

But in waterproof mascara. Long-wear foundation. Products that promise “stay all day” performance. They create that silky glide, that smudge-proof finish.

And here’s the uncomfortable part:

They’re not always listed clearly.

Sometimes they’re buried in chemical names with “fluoro” in them. Sometimes they’re contaminants from manufacturing processes. Sometimes brands don’t even realise they’re present.

Australia is now starting to tighten reporting.

Which is good.

But being asked to self-declare raises a deeper question for me.

Is this enough?

The Self-Declaration Problem

A self-declaration means: “Tell us if you use it.”

There isn’t automatic testing of every batch.

There isn’t independent verification of every product.

There isn’t a public database consumers can easily check.

It relies on honesty and knowledge.

And history tells us something uncomfortable about that.

When massive profits are at stake, companies do not always volunteer inconvenient truths.

That doesn’t mean every cosmetics company is knowingly adding harmful substances. Many probably aren’t.

But PFAS contamination can occur upstream. In raw materials. In processing. In supply chains that are opaque and global.

So when a brand ticks a box saying “No PFAS,” what does that really mean?

Did they test?

Did they audit suppliers?

Did they just assume?

These are not cynical questions. They’re practical ones.

Why This Matters for Soap

When we received that form, I realised something.

Our entire philosophy (plant oils, simple formulations, no synthetics we don’t need) is a built-in safeguard.

Not because we are saints.

But because complexity creates risk.

The more synthetic performance-enhancing ingredients you chase — longer wear, more slip, more gloss, more “miracle” — the more you step into the world of industrial chemistry.

Soap, at its heart, is a reaction between oil and alkali.

That’s it.

It doesn’t need to be waterproof.

It doesn’t need to last 48 hours.

It doesn’t need to repel grease on a frying pan.

And that simplicity suddenly felt profound to me.

The Bigger Question

Here’s what I keep coming back to.

Why do we wait for harm to be undeniable before acting?

Why are we always in a reactive cycle (expose, regulate, settle, move on) instead of asking harder questions at the beginning?

The PFAS story is not just about one chemical.

It’s about incentives.

It’s about what happens when corporate secrecy meets weak oversight.

And it’s about how long it takes for truth to surface when profit is involved.

So yes, I signed the declaration.

Confidently.

But I also walked away thinking:

We shouldn’t need cow farmers and lone lawyers to protect us.

And self-declaration, while a start, shouldn’t be the finish line.

anyhoo...Soapy hugs, 
Emma xx