Coat made from hemp yarn, polypore fungi, and cyanobacteria.
Small organisms called cyanobacteria could make for big fashion solutions, from eco-friendly dyes to plastic alternatives.
The shorelines of the English Lake District are peppered with warning signs: Keep dogs and children away from the lake, carry water, be aware of the signs of contamination. The reason for these warnings is the presence of cyanobacteria, also known as blue-green algae, which are some of the most abundant microorganisms on Earth.
When water temperatures rise or excess nutrients are present, cyanobacteria bloom, rapidly reproducing to create a dense, oil spill-like substance on the water that can produce harmful toxins. The health-conscious steer clear.
But in labs and studios around the world, this same microorganism’s natural processes are being embraced to tackle the mammoth impacts of a mammoth industry: fashion.
“I think we should be careful when we say that these bacteria are dangerous. Yes, there can be toxicity, but there are also plants that are very toxic—and we’re not worried about all plants,” said Dr. Paolo Bombelli, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Cambridge’s department of biochemistry.
His love for cyanobacteria is rooted in photosynthesis. Scientists believe we have cyanobacteria to thank for steadily releasing oxygen over the course of millions of years, helping alter the Earth’s atmosphere and allowing multicellular life-forms—including, eventually, humans—to evolve.
Cyanobacteria dedicate the majority of their mass to photosynthesis. In efficiently carrying out that role—which takes place over multiple stages, including splitting water molecules into oxygen and hydrogen, and the production of energy carriers and metabolites—cyanobacteria generate many byproducts. Among those are oxygen, electrons, and oil, the last of which is derived from the lipids they produce.
It’s these byproducts that design researcher Cinzia Ferrari seized upon to make an alternative plastic material, which she successfully used to manufacture sunglasses for her thesis project, CyanoFabbrica.
As much as 80% of acetate, the plastic commonly used to make eyewear, is wasted during manufacturing. Looking to reject the energy-, resource-, and waste-intensive status quo, Ferrari turned for inspiration to stromatolites, layered structures created over thousands of years by cyanobacteria via a process called biomineralization.
Under specific temperatures and levels of humidity, cyanobacteria secrete calcium carbonate, the material that composes chalk, limestone, and coral reefs. Mixing this powdery excretion with algae-derived sodium alginate and eggshells, Ferrari created the material for her frames. In shape, the frames are part cat-eye, part organic undulation, inspired by the wondrous forms of cyanobacteria as seen under a microscope.
“Initially, I tried to impose a design on this object, but I realized that the outcome was defined by the organism,” said Ferrari. “There was just so much I could not control, and I think that’s something that can be embraced.”
The glasses are colored with phycocyanin, the brilliant blue pigment also produced by cyanobacteria. At the end of their useful life, they could theoretically be ground down and used as a substrate to create another pair of sunglasses or be remade into a different object entirely, Ferrari has claimed, though she has yet to put this hypothesis to the test. If viable, that process would be an echo of the reciprocity of nature and push against the linear practices of an industry that creates many millions of tons of plastic-laden waste each year.
“Working on a project like this makes you realize that, in order to make things better, you have to think like nature thinks,” Ferrari said.
In her experience, that means being willing to move slowly. In six months, Ferrari managed to create the perfect conditions for calcium carbonate only once. Though potentially wondrous in their abilities, microscopic material solutions aren’t necessarily easily or quickly wielded. “They do an incredible job, but we need to take into account that they are much slower,” said Bombelli.
Ferrari isn’t the only one looking to leverage the power of cyanobacteria in the context of fashion. Eyewear maker Hemp Eyewear, based in Edinburgh, Scotland, recently used a phycocyanin dye developed by synthetic biologist Anton Puzorjov to dye its hemp fiber frames. Other researchers have experimented with using it to dye silk and cotton.
Cyanobacteria may also be used in the future as an agent to tackle contamination from synthetic colorants. Azo dyes, the most widely used commercial dyes, can be quite toxic, with some known to be carcinogenic and allergenic. Rivers that flow through dyeing regions often run thick with the colors of next season’s palette. But some tests seem to suggest that cyanobacteria can be used to absorb the pollutants in a process called phycoremediation, offering a potential method for fighting toxic dye pollution in the future.
Cyanobacteria are not the only microorganisms piquing fashion innovators’ interests. Pigment-producing bacteria can be found everywhere from the soil to spoiled fruit. While commercial synthetic dyes are manufactured from fossil fuels, bacteria are abundant and can create naturally non-toxic, ecological, biodegradable dyes.
U.K. bacterial dye innovator Colorifix, which is working at commercial scale, describes its pigments as “bursting through the microorganism’s membranes to release the color,” which then permanently affixes itself to the garment. Dutch biodesign project Living Colour cultivated bacteria directly onto fabric at a much smaller scale, creating unique organic patterns from the bacteria’s growth. Among Living Colour’s bacterial “superheroes” are soil-dwelling Janthinobacterium lividum, which produces the purple pigment violacein, and Micrococcus luteus—found in human skin, water, and dust—which produces the yellow pigment carotenoid.
“Working on a project like this makes you realize that, in order to make things better, you have to think like nature thinks.”
Cinzia Ferrari
design researcher
Not just creators of color, bacteria are also the source of novel textiles being hailed as a potential alternative to leather, which is associated with mass deforestation and highly toxic tanning processes. (Leather’s vegan plastic counterparts aren’t necessarily much better, as they’re made from synthetic fibers that consume more oil than the country of Spain annually.)
You may have encountered these bacterial alternatives in unexpected places. If you’ve ever made kombucha, for example, you’ve come across bacterial cellulose. That is in part what the SCOBY (the gelatinous film that floats on top of the kombucha liquid) is composed of. In 2003, pioneering fashion designer Suzanne Lee began growing bacterial cellulose in baths of sweet tea, using the material to make conceptual garments such as blouses and jackets.
Now the CEO of biotech startup consultancy Biofabricate, her influence has cascaded globally. London-based biotech company Modern Synthesis is one of the many companies building on her ideas and chasing scale to have a chance at changing fashion’s material status quo. Cofounder and CEO Jen Keane explained that the strain of bacteria the company uses, which can be “fed” with waste sugars, forms films that help them float. “They trail the fibers behind them and form a tiny mesh with these nanofibers,” Keane said. From there, it’s all about making that “jelly” material into something usable.
In the earliest iteration of the company’s technology, Keane referred to the process as “microbial weaving,” as she grew the fibers around a scaffold of threads. “It was a rather craft-based approach, essentially collaborating with the bacteria to create this weave,” she said.
However, the technology has moved on rapidly, and the company plans to lead with a new term when it launches its first product to market (to date it has released only prototype products, including a handbag in collaboration with Danish brand Ganni). Keane claimed that, when compared to leather, the emissions associated with producing the material are “staggeringly less,” though she declined to share any hard figures until the company is in full production.
Keane believes that her material won’t just be a like-for-like swap for leather, but will enable the industry to design in completely novel ways. Similar thinking propels NEFFA, a Dutch manufacturing method developed by Aniela Hoitink that uses robots to apply mycelium-based material MYCOTEX to 3D moulds to create “seamless, waste-free” products.” It’s a hopeful vision, but one worth taking with a grain of salt, considering the meteoric rise and fall of other mycelium-based fashion innovations.
Acting as the root-like structure for fungi, mycelia may be microscopic in isolation, but they can be grown into large sheets in a matter of days, which is why they’ve been embraced by brands including Stella McCartney, Adidas, Ganni, Gucci, and Hermès as a low-impact alternative to leather. Like cyanobacteria, mycelia can also act as bioremediators, “eating” aquatic microplastics, of which synthetic textiles are the single biggest source.
Though mycelium leathers have been heralded as a sustainable alternative in recent years, they have struggled to scale at the pace the industry demands. In collaborations between U.S. materials company Bolt Threads and brands like Stella McCartney and Adidas, as well as in other partnerships like that between U.S.-based Ecovative and Reformation, plastic coatings were applied to products to make up for durability and texture issues. Bolt Threads eventually scrapped its mycelium textile, Mylo, after struggling to fundraise.
But if we consider traditional materials, we see an even slower evolution that reminds us we might need to be patient with material innovation. Leather was first smoked to preserve it, then rubbed with bark, then tanned with vegetables, then with chemicals. Development spanned thousands of years. In fashion’s propensity to see a potential solution, exploit it, and move on if it doesn’t perform quickly, the industry risks missing crucial opportunities.
“If there’s any hope for humans being conscious of our planetary effect…and stepping into stewardship, that requires a more intimate relationship with life on the planet,” said Eric Bear, director of the Museum of Microalgae.
Behind each novel biomaterial or bio-based innovation is a creator who hopes their findings might be the key to an alternative system—if only they’re allowed. “It’s about building a new way of thinking around these products. By integrating our materials, we understand how they interact with [the wider system]. How can we work together with the rest of the textile ecosystem to help solve the challenge?” asked Keane.
Resilience, efficiency, community, reciprocity, and circularity all abound under the microscope. Mycelia converge to create giant mycorrhizal networks that connect interspecies networks; bacteria decompose one organism and feed another in so doing; cyanobacteria collaboratively build organic structures over the course of millennia.
In adopting not just the materials and solutions provided by microorganisms but their very systems, fashion could unearth valuable frameworks. “There’s something important about reverence,” said Bear. “It opens up more kinds of possibilities when you’re in an appreciative inquiry around something, rather than just a consumptive one.”
Designer Dasha Tsapenko Talent Katarina Skudra Hair Shunsuke Meguro (Future Rep) Makeup Porsche Poon (Total Management) Nails Magda S. Set Design Clara Lasagna Production Katie Bella Holmes and Giorgio T-D (The Curated) Photo Assistants Jolan Pery and Faycal Dimeglio Hair Assistants Lucile Bertrand and Yuri Kato Casting Director Nachum Shonn Special Thanks Bwater
This story first appeared in Atmos Volume 11: Micro/Macro with the headline, “Microbial Mending.”
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