The first thing Rajiv Shrikul does when he opens up his launderette in south Edinburgh each morning is pray. He says the 7am routine, which he started as a young boy in India, helps him cope with the kaleidoscope of personalities that pass through his shop. “Some people are angry, some are generous – you need to have a very stable mind. Meditation calms you down, especially in these hard times.”
Photograph: Murdo MacLeod
After opening in 1977, Braidburn launderette became a social hub, drawing in households that lacked the space or funds for their own machines. But Braidburn’s future is uncertain, like so many launderettes. These longtime staples of urban living have been hit hard in the pandemic and they, and their customers, are struggling with the cost of living crisis.
When Scotland went into lockdown, Shrikul’s revenue tumbled by 80% – and customers are only now trickling back in. “Suddenly, nobody was coming through the doors. I only stayed open because my elderly customers needed me to pick up and wash their clothes.”
Rajiv Shrikul loading a tumble dryer. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod
Customer and regular visitor Arthur Mafonko with his dog Milo. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod
Normally, during the Edinburgh festival fringe, tourists would pile into Braidburn to do their washing, but the last two summers have been quiet. The absence of students – another of his biggest client groups – also dented his cashflow.
Danial Kochak, who helps his dad Masoud Kochak run the Barbican launderette in London, says their loyal group of regulars cushioned the financial impact of Covid. The launderette’s mouthwash green palette harkens back to the early 1970s, when it opened. While locals have been using its services for decades, Kochak’s earnings now pale in comparison with the value of the land the launderette sits on – property prices in the Barbican district have risen by 60% in the last 10 years, according to Land Registry data.
Launderettes’ margins are further thinning as energy prices soar across the country. Kochak recently upped his tumble dryer fees by 20% to £1 for eight minutes. “Gas has jumped from 5p to 17p/kWh in six months. Owners will have to either weather it, put their prices up, or shut up shop,” says Bruce Herring, chair of the National Association of the Launderette Industry (NALI). But with many owners reluctant to pass the price rise on, businesses are being pushed to the brink.
Masoud Kochak. Photograph: Sarah Lee
In the last five years, the number of UK laundry facilities has fallen by more than a third to 2,000, according to the NALI. Developers remaking urban neighbourhoods for students and young professionals are building homes equipped with washing machines, leaving local launderettes without clientele. “We’re a throwaway society, so some people would rather buy a new duvet than have it professionally cleaned,” says Kate Yeats, a Braidburn customer.
Because most tumble dryers in launderettes are gas-heated, the government’s plan to phase out gas power by 2035 is also stoking fears, Herring says. “Converting the machines to use electricity isn’t really an option as it is so difficult – and the running costs would be three times more than gas.”
The Barbican launderette. Photograph: Sarah Lee
The soaring energy bills come as prices rise faster than at any time in the past three decades. Braidburn customer Fraser Howie, 25, who runs a taxi business in Edinburgh, says he is close to breaking point, with spiralling fuel and insurance costs hampering his already slow recovery. “I’m worried about how businesses will survive if something changes or another Covid variant crops up. Taxi drivers have received hardly any government help, meaning some of us previously making £70,000 a year have had to live off a £3,000 grant. How are we meant to afford everything that we had?”
Greta Riaukaite. Photograph: Sarah Lee
Greta Riaukaite, a 25-year-old carer for elderly residents on the Barbican estate, recently moved further out from London’s centre to Brent, for cheaper rent. She now pays £830 a month for a studio flat, but may need to move again as the high cost of living, combined with stagnant wages, pushes the capital out of reach. “I do love London, but it’s so financially straining. Everything has gone up – travel and food bills especially,” she says. Another Barbican launderette regular, who only identifies himself as Raymond, says his pension barely covers the £1,733 monthly rent for his one-bed flat on the estate.
A sad consequence of coronavirus has been its muffling of launderette gossip. Waiting customers would cover all kinds of topics, from dream holidays to their daughter’s wedding dress. “People used to chit-chat for hours, but I have had to ban them from staying because they cannot be socially distant in my small shop,” says Shrikul.
Arthur Mafonko, a guesthouse owner, has used Braidburn for decades. Since working together in restaurants 30 years ago, he and Shrikul have been inseparable friends. “He has always been there for me,” says Mafonko. He opened a restaurant in early 2020 but due to Covid, the business never got off the ground. Pandemic restrictions also hit Mafonko’s new business, which suffered cancellations in December after the Scottish government advised families to reduce social mixing. “We have just been keeping the business afloat, waiting for the good times to return,” he says.
Scenes from the Braidburn launderette. Photographs: Murdo MacLeod
As the squeeze on households continues, the launderette – and its multicultural, multigenerational kind of fellow feeling – offer a balm. “I really enjoy my job, getting to have coffee and a wee chat. My oldest customers have become family,” says Shrikul, who took over the Braidburn five years ago. As a single parent, he found the role suited him much better than his long hours working as a waiter. Whenever he hears of deaths among his regulars, he always tries to attend their funeral. “Doing my home visits to pick up or drop off laundry means I often get to have a final chat with my customers, who have become part of my life. Even after they’ve died, their photos are still in my shop.”
Raymond at the Barbican launderette. Photograph: Sarah Lee
Since the sudden death last year of Raymond’s wife of 50 years, Hazel, his routine of meeting neighbours at the launderette every Thursday goes a little way towards healing his private anguish. “I’m very fortunate to have such a strong community at the Barbican,” says Raymond, 96. “People here check up on me.” The retired civil servant joined the parachute regiment during the second world war at 16 years old. He lied about his age to get in, he says. Though he survived 18 missions in Germany, France and Palestine “without a scratch”, all of his friends died in combat. As he approaches his 100th birthday, Raymond hopes the Queen, who is a day older than him, will be the one to send the telegram.
Photograph: Sarah Lee
As more and more launderettes close, the disappearances of these communal spaces that bring generations of people together are not just individual tragedies, but a loss to society that affects us all.
