The Cleaning Claims We’re Not Allowed To Make

Cutting through the marketing jargon noise with Clean Habits founder and managing director, Kristy Phillips

When I started Clean Habits, I expected the usual founder headaches. Formulas. Manufacturing. Packaging. Distribution. The glamorous stuff, obviously.

What I did not expect was that one of the hardest parts of building a new kind of cleaning brand in America would be figuring out how to talk about it.

That's the part nobody tells founders. Not the sourcing. Not the supply chain. Not the unit economics. The vocabulary.

Here’s the issue:

1. The U.S. regulatory system seems very comfortable with two categories:
   Old-school chemical cleaners
2. EPA-registered disinfectants

But when a product works differently from both, especially one built around synbiotic technology, the language gets strange fast.

Suddenly, plain-English words people actually understand get pushed off the table.

Not because people aren’t educated enough to understand them, but because the rules are simply too dated.

Let’s talk about some of the many words we’re not supposed to touch

A real person says, "It keeps working after you spray it…", or "It's safer and healthier for my kids and my dog than traditional cleaners..." and even the word "germs” is off limits.

Whereas approved phrases are:

"supports a balanced surface microflora." and "formulated with Biosafety Level 1 probiotics." and "does not provoke antimicrobial resistance."

Nobody talks like that.

And nobody buys products described like that.

This is just a fraction of the type of language that can trigger federal scrutiny for a cleaning product that is not registered as a disinfectant or drug. The guidance is explicit on that point, and it also warns against health-effect language and references that imply disease prevention or medical benefit.

And honestly? That’s where this starts to get ridiculous. Because consumers do not speak compliance. Consumers speak human.

We understand phrases like “safe” and “healthy.”

We understand “good bacteria” and “bad bacteria.”

We understand “this keeps working for up to five days after you spray it.”

But the approved vocabulary for an emerging category like ours gets flattened into phrases like:

“supports surface cleanliness.”

“maintains a balanced surface microflora.”

“supports a balanced microbiome and continuous degradation of organic residues over time.”

The guidance (very literally) recommends that kind of phrasing instead of more scientific language, which may be technically acceptable, but also sounds like a beige pamphlet that undersells the real benefits. It’s not that science can’t express the benefits. It’s that modern cleaning technology has to be described using over-sanitized language that barely reflects what makes it different in the first place.

That’s the real problem.

Old-school cleaners get the cultural advantage of familiarity. Everyone already knows the script. Just feel a little burn in the eyes, make sure it smells “clean” and move on with the day.

None of this helps consumers make informed decisions, and it certainly doesn’t help innovation. 
Worst of all, it doesn’t effectively support honest communication.

Even the research conversation gets touchy

The guidance warns that referencing hospital studies or outcomes tied to infection reduction, antimicrobial resistance, MRSA, or viruses can imply regulated product claims, even when those studies are independent academic publications and not direct claims about a consumer product.

So now we have a strange situation where peer-reviewed research can exist, observed outcomes can exist, scientific discussion can exist, and still brands are expected to talk around the subject like everyone is one noun away from a regulatory collapse.

That’s not clarity.

And I’ll be very clear: this is not an argument for reckless claims. Brands should not be allowed to invent science, cosplay as medicine, or throw around disinfectant language they haven’t earned.

But there should be a better middle ground between “say whatever you want” and “speak in legal oatmeal.”

As it stands now, a product can be in our category and still represent a legitimate step forward in how we think about long-term surface care, odor control, and the role of beneficial microbes in cleaning. The permitted language in itself points in that direction, allowing claims around biodegradable materials, odor removal, breakdown of dirt and grime over time, continuous cleaning for days, and maintaining a balanced surface microflora.

That’s not nothing, but it’s also not enough.

We’re neither a harsh chemical cleaner nor a registered disinfectant. And the moment a founder tries to speak like an actual human about what makes this category different, the message gets trimmed, softened, and translated into terminology nobody would ever say near their kitchen counter.

That’s the gap. Not science. Not innovation. Purely language.

The system should be modernized enough to let emerging categories explain themselves in a way that is truthful, understandable, and relevant to real people, while still holding false claims accountable.

Until then, brands like ours will keep doing the awkward dance of trying to describe something genuinely new using vocabulary that feels several decades behind the moment.

And the only thing I can say to that is: Bleach, please.