Stories about glacial acetic acid usually begin long before laboratory glassware and industrial chemistry. Vinegar, the household staple, caught the attention of early civilizations, from the Egyptians to the Romans. They noticed that sour wines gave off a sharp, biting scent and a sour flavor. That was acetic acid at work, though the ancients didn’t assign names—they just put it to use for pickling and cleaning. The distilled, pure form—“glacial” acetic acid—arrived on the scene in the early 18th century. German chemist Hermann Kolbe helped usher in the modern era in the mid-1800s by developing a synthetic process. Society’s interest in transforming simple food chemistry into industrial capacity grew quickly, and acetic acid became more than just a kitchen product. Progress relied heavily on practicality, making production routes more efficient and safer in step with industry’s expansion.
Glacial acetic acid stands out by coming as a waterless, concentrated liquid. It pours clear and syrupy, with that unmistakable, nose-tickling smell. Unlike table vinegar—about 5% acetic acid—glacial acetic acid brings over 99% purity. This level of concentration means the smallest spill packs a punch few home cooks would recognize but chemical engineers and lab technicians know well. The bottle often carries warnings and thick screw caps, because the acid eats through skin, metal, and some plastics. That sharp, persistent scent—the “glacial” label comes from its tendency to freeze at just under 17°C, forming clear ice-like crystals at room temperature during cool weather.
Acetic acid, CH3COOH, belongs to the family of carboxylic acids. It’s a colorless liquid, heavier than water, and produces vapors that make your eyes water. It dissolves easily in water, ethanol, and many organic solvents. In colder rooms, the acid solidifies just above 16°C (61°F), which separated it from weaker vinegar. Once held in a bottle, it resists evaporation due to a boiling point around 118°C—substantially higher than water. It’s both corrosive and highly flammable in concentrated form. Anyone who’s spent time working in a lab remembers the first time they inadvertently inhaled a waft of it—a little goes a long way. A tightly closed chemical hood becomes good advice learned the hard way.
Chemical suppliers list glacial acetic acid with purity above 99%, and every drum or bottle sports proper hazard labels. You see warning symbols for skin burns and environmental hazards, as regulatory bodies such as OSHA or REACH don’t take chances with strong acids. Material safety data sheets (MSDS) lay out every technical detail: CAS number 64-19-7, molecular weight of 60.05 g/mol, and emergency handling steps. Manufacturers stamp batch numbers, expiration dates, and storage instructions right on each container, reflecting a world where a simple mistake can quickly lead to burns, fires, or clouded vision. Precision matters not only in the lab but across the shipping docks and warehouse shelves, so labeling speaks to experience as much as regulation.
Production of glacial acetic acid isn’t a relic of medieval times. While fermentation of ethanol by bacteria gave early humanity vinegar, today’s process keeps microbes out. Most acetic acid comes from carbonylation, which uses methanol, carbon monoxide, and a catalyst like rhodium or iridium complexes. Industrial reactors churn out vast amounts using this route, as it offers higher yields and fewer byproducts than biological fermentation. Some plants still run older methods that oxidize acetaldehyde or hydrocarbons, but the methanol carbonylation process dominates today. The finished product requires rigorous distillation and purification to remove water and impurities. The resulting acid achieves laboratory-grade quality—what chemists and manufacturers call “glacial.”
Glacial acetic acid forms the backbone of more complex chemical work. As a weak acid, it participates in reactions for making esters, anhydrides, and numerous organic syntheses. By combining with alcohols, acetic acid produces esters—flavors and fragrances for food and cosmetics. Reacting with bases, it yields acetate salts used across textiles and pharmaceuticals. Chemists rely on it as a solvent for cellulose acetates, dyes, and resins. Its ability to donate and accept hydrogen ions gives it flexibility in buffering systems or acting as a mild acid catalyst. Modifications often involve tweaking the molecular structure or introducing metal ions, and each new product expands the palette for industrial, medical, or research use.
A seasoned tech or scientist knows several names for this compound. “E260” sits on ingredient labels for food acid, “ethanoic acid” pops up in chemistry textbooks, and “vinegar acid” lands somewhere in between. Pick up a bottle from different parts of the globe, and you might see French “acide acétique,” German “Essigsäure,” or a host of trade names depending on purity and application. A supply order at a manufacturing facility usually specifies “glacial acetic acid” to differentiate from diluted forms. Carelessness with labels creates confusion and, potentially, safety hazards—so names stick in professionals’ minds for good reason.
Working with glacial acetic acid isn’t like splashing around with lemon juice. Even a few drops on the skin burn within seconds. Full goggles, gloves, and chemical aprons or coats become fixtures for anyone handling it in volume. Laboratories require safety showers and eye wash stations within arm’s reach. Spills get contained with special neutralizers—usually sodium bicarbonate—since water dilution alone risks a violent, exothermic splash. Workers in large-scale plants learn strict handling protocols: acid-resistant pumps, vented storage units, and “no smoking” signs in every direction. Agencies such as OSHA, NIOSH, and EPA set limits for vapor exposure, and training for staff does more than check a box—it keeps burns and inhalation injuries off the accident list.
In factories and research centers, glacial acetic acid gets more use than most realize. It acts as a starting chemical for the manufacture of synthetic fibers—like cellulose acetate for photographic film and textiles—and forms the foundation for making vinyl acetate monomer, used in adhesives and paints. Pharmaceutical production relies on it for synthesizing aspirin and other drugs. In the food industry, dilute acetic acid preserves pickles and flavors sauces, though the glacial form never appears in a recipe card. Cleaning products, rubber manufacture, and even pesticides take advantage of its reactivity and solvent power. Anyone who’s tried to clear calcium scale from a kettle using vinegar understands the cleaning punch, but industrial cleaning with concentrated acid brings results on a much bigger scale.
Chemists and material scientists continue to explore the boundaries of what acetic acid can do. Its role in greener manufacturing processes keeps growing, as companies push for catalysts and routes that minimize waste and cut down on emissions. New research targets more sustainable ways to generate acetic acid, such as bio-based production routes using genetically-modified bacteria for higher yields. Improvements in catalyst systems look to reduce precious metal use and drop energy requirements during manufacture. Researchers study the interactions between acetic acid and novel polymers, search for biodegradable derivatives, and investigate how to reclaim and reuse acid from spent industrial mixtures. Each new paper adds another use-case, encouraging industries to rethink how this age-old chemical adapts to new demands.
Toxicologists view glacial acetic acid with the respect strong chemicals deserve. Direct contact burns skin and eyes, and inhaling fumes badly irritates the lungs and throat. Animal studies provide data for workplace safety limits, pointing to the dangers of both acute and chronic exposure. Ingestion in concentrated form proves lethal, with even small volumes causing severe internal burns. Regulatory agencies such as the EPA and WHO keep exposure guidelines under continuous scrutiny, especially where vulnerable workers—pregnant women, asthmatics, children—might encounter the fumes. Most toxicity research today focuses on refining safety levels, understanding long-term impacts on respiratory health, and improving treatments for accidental exposure. Training and accident reporting remain vital, grounding safety in daily practice rather than policy alone.
The story of glacial acetic acid doesn’t pause. Demand for safer, “greener” versions extends from chemical plants to food packaging. Research around biobased acetic acid continues to expand, promising more environmentally friendly supply chains. Advances in catalysis could soon allow lower-temperature, lower-waste production. Innovations in recycling spent acetic acid may transform how industries approach chemical cycles, reducing pollution and cost. On the regulatory side, tighter exposure limits and improved handling technologies will likely become the norm, especially as more industries adopt automated chemical processing to keep workers safe. As these trends converge, glacial acetic acid will remain essential—evolving from ancient preservative to a linchpin of sustainable chemistry.
When I first learned about glacial acetic acid, the words themselves sounded more like a frozen river in Patagonia than something you’d find in a bottle under the kitchen sink. Yet, this colorless liquid has punched above its weight for decades, supporting industries, medicine, and even home activities.
Before you think it only belongs in chemistry class, let’s clear something up: vinegar owes its signature tang to acetic acid. But glacial acetic acid steps it up. It shows its face as the concentrated, nearly pure form of the acid, and that bump in strength sets it apart from typical vinegar. Just a whiff can make your eyes water and your throat tighten. Despite its brute strength, people rarely give it a second thought outside certain circles.
Factories lean heavily on this acid. It’s all over the recipe for plastics like polyvinyl acetate, which glues wood for furniture, and other chemicals that blankets of clothing and bottles depend on. Fabric dyes in the textile industry wouldn't shine without it, either. I once saw how acetic acid helped keep processes running on schedule on a dye line—no one wanted colors running off their clothes in the rain. It stabilizes colors and keeps the finish crisp.
If you dive into pharmaceuticals, glacial acetic acid helps make aspirin and other drugs that relieve pain and discomfort. Farmers, too, have a stake in this; not directly on their fields, but as part of the act of making pesticides and herbicides. The farms I grew up around would get more efficient chemicals because of the earlier stages handled by this very chemical. It felt like a hidden hand working behind the scenes.
Outside the big plants, labs mix up solutions with glacial acetic acid almost every day. Newspaper stories sometimes crop up about mistakes—people thinking it works as a strong household cleaner or disinfectant, since it kills some types of microbes. Yet doctors and chemists know it’s nothing like the safe vinegar you put on fries. The acid can burn skin and damage lungs if you breathe much of it, so the stakes go up outside professional hands.
Through the years, I’ve seen science teachers take extra care teaching safety after one too many “vinegar volcano” stories. They barely take glacial acetic acid off the secured shelves, and if they do, it’s with gloves, goggles, and proper ventilation. There’s a reason it travels in tightly sealed containers, often packed with extra caution labels.
Glacial acetic acid stands out for being efficient but unforgiving. There’s a risk in treating industrial chemicals like household supplies, and that awareness still hasn’t reached enough people. Labels in factories help, but more clarity on consumer products wouldn’t hurt.
Some processes can substitute less harsh acids—citric acid shows up more often as companies look for less corrosive alternatives, especially in cleaning and food prep. The push for greener, less harmful chemicals in manufacturing can help control acetic acid’s use and limit where concentrated forms end up. Schools and workplaces bolster safety with locked storage and treating every chemical spill like a drill, not an afterthought. It never hurts to remind folks that strength and usefulness in the chemical world can demand respect and a little more caution in trade.
Glacial acetic acid isn’t some harmless kitchen vinegar. It runs with a burning strength, roughly 99-100% acid, and doesn’t blend well with careless storage habits. In the lab, the warehouse, or even in teaching spaces, one mistake can turn a shelf into a hazard zone. People unfamiliar with its strength might see it as just another clear liquid, but it burns skin, eats through weak seals, and stings the nose with fumes. Years of working around chemicals have shown me that shortcuts with acids leave long memories—and scars.
Put glacial acetic acid in anything but its proper bottle and leaks become a real risk. Polyethylene, amber glass, or high-density polypropylene bottles stand up to the acid—metal caps and soft plastic don’t last. I once helped clean out an old high school chemistry prep room where a teacher had reused a regular plastic bottle, and the bottom had melted out, soaking the floor and leading to a hallway evacuation. Manufacturers ship it with good reason in thick, sealed bottles; those containers are chosen for their toughness and chemical resistance.
This acid loves to draw water from the air, ruining purity and causing the bottle to sweat and drip. I always teach students and coworkers to stash it in a cool, dry spot. Too much moisture, and you lose that “glacial” state—the acid gets diluted and loses its punch. Leave it sitting near a heat source, and pressures build up, warping containers and risking bursts.
The worst mistake is to store glacial acetic acid near oxidizers, bleach, or basic chemicals. One splash or leak leads to dangerous reactions, and nobody wants to clean up a chemistry experiment gone wrong. Lock it up by itself, away from casual traffic, and make sure it stays in the right spot—no getting lazy on shelf assignments. From my own work, I’ve watched regular audits turn up bottles of the stuff shoved behind unrelated chemicals. Every one of those was a near miss for disaster.
Even tightly capped, the fumes get out, bugging the nose and throat before you know it. Acid storage calls for good airflow. Dedicated acid cabinets with vents work best. Strong fumes mean a leak has started or a cap got left loose, and it’s time to clear the area, gear up, and deal with it fast. I’ve handled more than one emergency where poor storage led to a roomful of acrid vapor—nobody forgets gasping for clean air while dragging bins to safety.
In busy workplaces, glacial acetic acid gets handled by everyone from techs to new hires. Relying on one person to “remember” proper storage just isn’t enough. Regular training, clear labels, and checklists keep everyone on the same page. I’ve watched poorly marked bottles get used for the wrong applications—or worse, disposed of down drains, risking pipes and cleaners. Label every bottle with bold warnings, mark storage zones clearly, and review procedures often.
Glacial acetic acid brings real risks, but just a few practical steps—right container, good ventilation, isolated storage, and clear training—stop most accidents before they start. Respect for the strength of this acid keeps coworkers, students, and buildings safe from burns and fumes. From long experience, the simple rule holds true: treat strong chemicals with steady attention, not shortcuts.
I’ve worked in more labs than I care to count, and anyone who’s tangled with glacial acetic acid remembers the smell—and the sting. This stuff isn’t your average vinegar. We’re talking about a chemical that can burn skin, scar lungs, and ruin your day in seconds. People read the label and think, “How bad can it be?” The answer: far worse than expected, if you skip the basics.
A splash of glacial acetic acid means immediate pain. Uncovered skin soaks it up fast. I’ve seen new lab techs roll up sleeves, thinking gloves are enough. That’s just an invitation for misery. Full-length, chemical-resistant gloves, splash goggles (not just safety glasses), and real lab coats—not the cheap, thin ones—go on before the bottle even leaves the shelf. Good labs keep a face shield handy for larger volumes. That shield is there because accidents don’t care if you’re careful most days.
I remember unpacking a bottle, thinking the cap felt a bit loose. The vapor had already started to leak, and by the time the seal went back on, my nose was burning. Glacial acetic acid gives off harsh vapors that fill up small spaces quickly. Doing anything with it out in the open—bad idea. Always work under a fume hood. If your lab skips the hood, open all the windows and get out the fans, but honestly, that’s just asking for a run-in with safety inspectors. The sense of smell doesn’t protect anyone from repeated, low-level exposure either. Over time, respiratory damage builds up, even if you don’t feel it right away.
Leave this acid on the benchtop, and you’ll regret it. Storage calls for containers that seal tight, kept away from sunlight and heat. I’ve seen bottles gradually warp under hot lab lights, then leak. Acetic acid loves to react with metals and bases—keep it far from anything alkaline. Mix-ups in storage have led to dangerous fumes and, in worst-case scenarios, explosions. Lock it up in a cool, ventilated spot, and always double-check the label before grabbing.
A spill of glacial acetic acid isn’t just a paper towel job. Most people reach for water, but sometimes that spreads the hazard. I’ve learned to keep spill kits nearby, complete with absorbent pads designed for acids. Buckets full of sodium bicarbonate aren’t a luxury—they’re a need. Neutralize, but never rush the process. You don’t want to swap an acid burn for an exothermic reaction. Once things are safe, then you grab the mop.
Walking someone through these precautions matters more than a checklist ever could. In every new workplace, we run drills: fake spills, eyewash station tests, and dress rehearsals with gear. It may feel repetitive, but panic during a real accident costs more. Knowledge of what to do, and muscle memory for emergency gear, sets experienced handlers apart from the rest.
Glacial acetic acid gets respect from folks who know its dangers. Sharing those real stories—and not just the MSDS warnings—shapes how newcomers behave. Safe habits spread when they’re taught clearly and reinforced regularly. Reliable protective gear, clear labeling, and a bit of healthy fear keep accidents rare. In my experience, that’s how labs and people stay safe, every day.
For anyone who remembers the sharp sting of science class, the mention of glacial acetic acid often brings back those distinct lab smells and a splash of warnings about skin contact. Most people think of vinegar as its only form, yet in its strongest state, it’s far from anything on a salad. Glacial acetic acid clocks in at about 99-100% concentration, and the clear, icy look explains the “glacial” name—it literally solidifies just below room temperature, around 16.7 degrees Celsius.
People sometimes don’t realize how much the strength of acetic acid changes its use. In everyday kitchens, we use about 5% acetic acid for pickling and cleaning. In the industrial and laboratory context, glacial acetic acid packs a punch at close to pure acid. That level of purity means it’s far more than just a food additive—it’s a key player in the manufacture of plastics (think polyester fibers), solvents, inks, and even in some pharmaceuticals I see in drugstore aisles.
Running a process with watered-down acid leads to unpredictable results. As someone who’s spilled chemicals before—yes, even with gloves—the difference between a diluted vinegar bottle and pure, glacial acetic acid is like comparing a campfire to a welding torch. I’ve watched as a few drops of glacial acetic acid caused immediate discomfort if a stray splash hit the skin. Safety remains an ongoing concern, so proper labeling and knowledge go a long way.
In a world where corners sometimes get cut, chasing after perfect purity helps ensure both safety and performance. Major chemical suppliers guarantee that almost every bottle of glacial acetic acid has less than 1% water, with trace impurities tracked just as closely. No one wants contaminants throwing off a reaction in a pharmaceutical batch that could one day land in someone’s medicine cabinet.
People talk about handling acids with care, but few non-chemists know how dangerous glacial acetic acid can be. A spill isn’t just a cleanup chore. Fumes cause headaches or irritation, and the liquid eats through organic material far faster than most expect. Exposure can blister skin in seconds, and mistaking it for something weaker brings hospital visits. I remind friends working in odd lab settings to use proper ventilation and those old-fashioned chemical hoods they sometimes ignore.
Disposal practices matter, too. Pouring it down the drain isn’t safe for pipes or the environment. Regulations guide large facilities, but small labs or hobbyists may not pay the same level of attention. Knowing what you’re holding in your hand is the difference between safe chemistry and a hazardous mess.
Better training helps a lot. No one learns these things just by glancing at a label. Schools and small-scale businesses need clear, hands-on demonstrations. In my experience, fewer accidents happen when every worker knows the difference between diluted and concentrated acids.
Storage remains a weak spot. Glacial acetic acid eats through certain plastics and can build pressure in hot weather. Containers need clear labels and should sit in ventilated, secure spots far from food or anything reactive, like strong oxidizers. Policy makers could offer funding for schools and small outfits to set up better chemical storage without a huge budget hit.
Understanding what glacial acetic acid really is doesn’t just make science safer. It reminds everyone that the difference between routine and risk comes down to the concentration in that bottle, and staying informed protects everyone involved.
Anybody who dabbles in home chemistry, food preservation, or laboratory work runs across acetic acid sooner or later. The word “glacial” sounds almost mystical, but it means pure concentrated acetic acid—more than 99%. In my school days, the old glass bottle on the chemical shelf came with a skull-and-crossbones sticker, and for good reason.
Glacial acetic acid burns. Not a metaphor—literally burns. Skin contact brings fierce pain, blisters, and raw, peeling tissue. Eyes can take a permanent hit, leading to vision problems or even blindness. Just catching a whiff feels like inhaling a sharp punch: the vapors can damage your throat, nose, and lungs. If spilled, the fumes hang in the air, causing coughing and watery eyes. One lab partner leaned too close to an open bottle and spent hours with hacking coughs and stinging eyes.
Eating or swallowing glacial acetic acid causes internal burns, and can send someone to the hospital in critical condition. At home, standard vinegar from the grocery shelf sits at around 5%. Drinking glacial acetic acid would be catastrophic, and mistaking the two containers has led to emergency room visits more often than folks realize.
The danger doesn't stop at the surface. Long-term or repeated exposure to the fumes messes with your respiratory system. There’s evidence from factories and labs that regular inhalation can lead to chronic bronchitis, lung irritation, and sometimes asthma-like symptoms. Handling it without gloves or eye protection means risking chemical burns that linger and scar.
Hospitals in major cities keep cases of acid poisoning in their annual records. People mixing chemicals for homemade pickling, students in under-supervised labs—accidents happen more than anybody admits. The stories travel: a careless moment and a whole day spent flushing eyes at the sink. I remember a college technician who warned us: “One drop can ruin your hand.”
Man-made disasters add to the case against careless use. In the late 20th century, leaks and spills from chemical plants poisoned groundwater, harmed wildlife, and led to costly cleanups. Regulations tightened, but mistakes are always waiting in the wings, especially if folks underestimate this clear-as-water liquid.
Protective gear is basic: goggles, gloves, and well-ventilated spaces. Spills need immediate cleanup, neutralizing with sodium bicarbonate—not just mopping with water. In our lab, the rule was never to open the bottle unless the fume hood was humming. I learned to respect the sharp scent—a warning in itself.
Storage makes a difference too. Keeping glacial acetic acid in sturdy, clearly labeled containers, tucked away from food and everyday supplies, keeps accidents from creeping in. If someone with younger kids or pets brings home chemical kits, that bottle needs a childproof lock and a tag bright enough to catch sleepy eyes.
For most home and school tasks, food-grade vinegar or diluted lab acids do the job without the hazards. Teachers and hobbyists often switch to milder acetic acid, and commercial cleaners rarely contain anything near glacial strength. Big chemical companies now push for better training and clear labeling, though enforcement sometimes falls through the cracks.
Science offers plenty of lessons about respect. Glacial acetic acid asks for it—overlooking the danger brings real pain, and sometimes a lifelong mark.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | ethanoic acid |
| Other names |
Acetic acid Ethanoic acid Methanecarboxylic acid Vinegar acid E260 |
| Pronunciation | /ˈɡleɪ.ʃəl əˈsiː.tɪk ˈæs.ɪd/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 64-19-7 |
| Beilstein Reference | 3539532 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:17699 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL277500 |
| ChemSpider | 187 |
| DrugBank | DB03166 |
| ECHA InfoCard | 03-2119432880-43-0000 |
| EC Number | 200-580-7 |
| Gmelin Reference | 113 |
| KEGG | C00033 |
| MeSH | D001605 |
| PubChem CID | 176 |
| RTECS number | AF1225000 |
| UNII | N9YNS0M02X |
| UN number | UN2789 |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | CH3COOH |
| Molar mass | 60.05 g/mol |
| Appearance | Clear, colorless liquid with a pungent, vinegar-like odor. |
| Odor | Pungent, vinegar-like |
| Density | 1.049 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Miscible |
| log P | -0.17 |
| Vapor pressure | 1.5 mmHg (20°C) |
| Acidity (pKa) | 4.76 |
| Basicity (pKb) | 14.5 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | -6.74×10⁻⁶ |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.371 |
| Viscosity | 1.22 mPa·s (at 25°C) |
| Dipole moment | 1.74 D |
| Thermochemistry | |
| Std molar entropy (S⦵298) | 159.8 J·mol⁻¹·K⁻¹ |
| Std enthalpy of formation (ΔfH⦵298) | -484.5 kJ/mol |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | -875.8 kJ·mol⁻¹ |
| Pharmacology | |
| ATC code | A07AA08 |
| Hazards | |
| GHS labelling | GHS02, GHS05, GHS07, GHS08 |
| Pictograms | GHS02, GHS05, GHS07 |
| Signal word | Danger |
| Hazard statements | H226, H314, H318 |
| Precautionary statements | P210, P233, P240, P260, P264, P280, P301+P330+P331, P303+P361+P353, P304+P340, P305+P351+P338, P312, P321, P363, P370+P378, P403+P405+P233, P501 |
| Flash point | Flash point: 39 °C (102 °F) |
| Autoignition temperature | 427 °C (801 °F; 700 K) |
| Explosive limits | 4% - 17% |
| Lethal dose or concentration | LD₅₀ (oral, rat): 3,310 mg/kg |
| LD50 (median dose) | LD50 (median dose): 3,310 mg/kg (rat, oral) |
| NIOSH | FFO035 |
| PEL (Permissible) | 10 ppm |
| REL (Recommended) | 200 ppm |
| IDLH (Immediate danger) | 1000 ppm |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Acetic anhydride Ethyl acetate Acetyl chloride Sodium acetate Potassium acetate Chloroacetic acid Propionic acid |
