Estella Knife Shop Closes: Owner Says Profits Too Low

Gil Cutlery Closes in Estella: "I Can't Make a Living"

Jesús María Gil isn't closing due to lack of skill. He's closing because, at this point, the trade doesn't pay enough to live on. At 60, this resident of Estella has set the end date for Gil Cutlery, located at 28 Carpintería Street in the old town center of the city by the Ega River: January 31 is when he shuts down and takes early retirement. The shop had been open for at least four decades before his family took it over in 1976, so what’s ending isn’t just any business. "It doesn't feed me, and every year gets worse," he summarizes.

From Straw Ropes to Old Town Cutlery

Jesús's parents, Eloy Gil and Eulogia Parente, are from Galicia and arrived in Estella at age twenty. Before that, they lived in Ancín, where his father made ropes and twine for hay bales from harvesters. When Jesús was six, the family moved to Estella, and in 1976 they revived the current Gil Cutlery, a premises that had been operating long before. Eloy retired, and in 2011, when the shop was heading toward closure, his son took the reins. Not out of entrepreneurial vocation, but because back then you could still make a living from it.

The window displays axes, knives, scissors, and pocketknives. The product was never the problem. The issue is that almost no one climbs the street to buy anymore.

What Were Sales Ten Years Ago?

The figures provided by the owner himself sketch the decline without needing charts. A decade ago, the shop generated €10,000; today, by his own calculation, it doesn't even reach €500 a month. Such a drop explains why, since 2019, he has combined working behind the counter with a weekend job at a security services company.

• €10,000: What was earned ten years ago
• Less than €500 a month: What he claims to earn now
• 2019: Year he started working weekends
• Age 63: Age he plans to take early retirement

"I earn more on the weekend at my other job than during the rest of the week," says Gil. The bleeding has two causes: supermarkets, which have eaten up small retail purchases, and the pandemic, which finished off professional clientele. Previously, bars and restaurants would come to sharpen blades; since 2020, not even that. Individual customers? Forget it. And online sales, he notes, are taking whatever remains.

Why Close on January 31 Instead of Waiting Until 67?

Here lies the knot determining the date. Social Security explained it bluntly: if he worked two years for a company, he could retire, but if he remained self-employed running the shop, he’d have to stretch until age 66 or 67. He has been contributing to both systems simultaneously for five years. At 63, with the second job already established, he can take early retirement. Hence, January 31.

This isn't a market decision nor a surrender to customers. It's an arithmetic decision made at a government counter.

The Transfer No One Wants and the Missing Succession

He hasn't considered selling the business. "The first person who comes will ask to see the accounts. If I don't even make enough for myself... I have no intention of renting it out," he points out. He concludes with a phrase that captures local commerce in a mid-sized town: "A business that closes in Estella never reopens."

There is also no family succession. He has no children. He has two siblings: one works in a court in Pamplona, and another runs an English academy, each focused on their own path. His parents, he says, are the ones pushing him hardest to quit and stop "wasting time here all morning."

Service, Reinvestment, and Price: Diagnosing Local Retail

Gil's case has helped diagnose why neighborhood shops die. Some focus on the lack of reinvestment: a shop that hasn't changed its sign in sixty years, with no online catalog, workshops, or social media presence, is doomed to fade regardless of demand. From the opposing viewpoint, the answer is structural: tax pressure and self-employment contributions make it unviable to sustain a business that no longer generates revenue, and many shutters remain up only to accumulate pension credits.

A third diagnosis points to competition: supermarkets, large chains, and the internet have turned small-scale shopping into a waste of time. A fourth, less friendly view blames the counter itself: some local shops make customers feel like intruders, where questions are answered with boredom and prices don't compensate. An anecdote circulates: those who ask too many questions end up hearing they won't recite the catalog just so they can buy elsewhere.

Estella's Old Town: One Closed Shop for Every Two Open

The cutlery shop isn't falling alone. Nearby, the bar The Diner is up for transfer, while Angela's pastry shop, famous for its alpargatas (traditional espadrilles), remains in Plaza de los Fueros. Those who have passed through describe a commercial winter scene: darkened premises, faded merchandise in windows, and bars and cafés as the only businesses holding steady.

In the background, there's a detail Gil mentions casually: in Estella, he believes, no other cutlery shop sharpens blades anymore. People tell him one does, but under the table.

How many more trades will quietly extinguish themselves before anyone asks whether the problem was the shop or the bureaucracy?