From The Economist: BEHIND curlicues of cigarette smoke and with the gentle tones of wartime tunes wafting from a tape deck, Alf Biber is back on his feet after the looting of his dinky Tottenham barbershop (above). His eyes twinkle as he praises the properties of witch-hazel and displays a set of antique razors. In his youth Mr Biber could trim up to 80 heads a day; aged 89, he now keeps busy with 20 a week.
Mr Biber’s craft is enjoying a British renaissance. About 10% of the nation’s 35,000-odd hair salons are now barbers; a new association sprang up last year to help them. The number of listed barbers has more than doubled since 2001, with a 32% increase in the past three years alone. Insiders say cheap and burly shearers did well in the recession, as cash-strapped customers cut back on frippery. The no-nonsense Turkish barbers who have popped up in North London point to the profession’s popularity among migrants. (In Britain, unlike in America and much of Europe, barbers do not need a licence.)
The fancy end of the trade is blossoming, too. Josh Gibson, principal of a Vidal Sassoon hairdressing academy in London, says his barbering course is the fastest growing of those on offer. L’Oréal, a big French beauty company, reckons the British market for men’s grooming gear is growing twice as fast as that for women’s. At Taylor of Old Bond Street, a swanky London barber and boutique, sales to other British retailers were up by 72% last year. It offers fragrant salves sporting names such as “Bay Rum”, and swish shaving brushes with bristles of Chinese badger fur.
What lies behind this growth? Caroline Cox, a fashion historian and consultant, puts it down to a return to old-fashioned masculinity in response to economic uncertainty. “If we worry about the future, we take refuge in the past,” she says. If men are indeed trying to regain the quintessence of their sex, then barbershops fit the bill. “It’s a bit of a club atmosphere in here,” says Barry Klein, director of the Taylor boutique.
Barbers have come a long way since the days when they pulled teeth and therapeutically bled their clients—a practice thought to explain the traditional red-and-white striped pole, a reference to bloodied bandages. Barbering bigwigs worry that the lack of compulsory licensing in Britain keeps standards down and gives the craft a bad name. But the broader appetite for government regulation is at a low ebb, and the reputation of barbers seems to be doing fine it in its absence. No need to get in a lather, then.
