Barbershop boom in Wales: Sharp fades or blunt fronts?

Gwyn Rees

When I visited Merthyr Tydfil in February, amid a hurried trip to see my critically-ill father, I wandered down the high street to clear my head.

What struck me most wasn’t the shops I remembered from years past, but the sheer volume of barbershops now lining the town centre, not just one or two, but several, clustered closely together. It made me smile at first. The men of Merthyr must be among the best-groomed in the UK.

But on a return visit, I realised this phenomenon isn’t unique to Merthyr. A similar saturation of barbershops is visible in towns across Wales.

I saw the same pattern from Neath to Aberdare, from Pontypridd to Aberystwyth.

Porth

Porth is a standout. With a population of just 6,000, it hosts 13 barbershops within a 0.3-mile radius, a density that has sparked local outrage and even a formal objection from the Porth and District Chamber of Trade, who argue it’s unsustainable.

That works out to roughly one barbershop for every 227 men, assuming male grooming is their primary demographic.

As I further mused on the need for such high levels of grooming, I decided to sample the Turkish variety that seems in ample supply: had my hair cut, nostrils waxed, and eyebrows trimmed with the kind of precision you’d expect before a Soho tailor, a surprising treat in Pontypridd.

But in each of these towns, the sheer number of barbershops, often with few or no customers inside, made me ask: what’s really going on here?

This isn’t just idle curiosity.

The National Crime Agency (NCA) recently concluded Operation Machinize; a three-week national crackdown targeting cash-heavy businesses suspected of laundering criminal funds or employing trafficked or undocumented workers.

Barbershops were among the main targets. Of 380 business premises inspected, over £1 million in assets were frozen, 35 arrests made, and 97 people safeguarded as potential victims of modern slavery. The NCA was clear: many of these shops are being used as fronts for money laundering, drug activity, and organised immigration crime.

I’m not the only one asking questions.

Saturation

The National Hair and Beauty Federation has flagged barbershop saturation in UK towns, particularly in areas facing deprivation. A Times report even linked some Turkish-owned shops to suspected criminal networks, with senior police expressing concern.

To be clear: many of these businesses are no doubt legitimate, hardworking, family-run operations. But in areas where regulation is light and opportunity is scarce, criminal networks have found barbering to be the perfect front: low startup costs, high cash turnover, and minimal oversight.

When ten near-identical shops can open on the same street and all survive, despite barely any footfall, it’s fair to question what’s sustaining them. You’d be naïve not to.

For locals, this might seem normalised. But I’ve come and gone from Wales for years, and perhaps that gives me some perspective. The change feels stark.

Merthyr, once the iron capital of the world, is now like many post-industrial Welsh towns, marked by economic decline, limited opportunity, and some of the highest deprivation levels in the UK. Yet somehow, the high street sustains an ecosystem of barbers that wouldn’t be out of place in central London.

The real tragedy? These businesses, in volume, crowd out other ventures. A high street propped up by shops that don’t even seem to need customers is not just confusing, it’s corrosive.

There may be entirely legitimate reasons for the rise. Male grooming is a booming industry, especially among younger men but I remain sceptical. Because when the high street becomes little more than barbers and takeaways, you must ask: what is this offering and for whom?

In Porth, frustration is bubbling online. Locals on community forums write things like, “We’re overrun with barbershops” and “This is getting beyond a joke” echoing what I heard in villages and towns where my friends and family reside.

This isn’t just about haircuts.

Austerity

Austerity has weakened local authorities, while enterprise zones often fail to revive high streets, leaving struggling towns to self-fund their own recovery, or worse, face higher taxes. This neglect creates the perfect conditions for the anomalous rise of a single business type and whatever activity may be going on behind the façade.

Wales deserves better: targeted investment, real regeneration, and entrepreneurial support that values diversity of trade. Not a façade of prosperity supported by dodgy cash and clever accounting. It’s time for local councils and the Welsh Government to look closely at what’s happening behind the barbershop windows.

Are they really all just selling sharp fades and beard trims or something a little less clean-cut?

Gwyn Rees is a Welshman who lives in Australia