Traditional kopitiams in Singapore are dying a slow death, as cookie-cutter chains take over
Large landlords now dominate the kopitiam scene, with stalls offering near-identical menus, branding, and prices As you travel across Singapore, it’s hard not to notice how one kopitiam now looks—and tastes—remarkably similar to another. They are becoming increasingly indistinguishable from one another, with the same menus, the same few brands, and similar prices appearing everywhere. […]
Large landlords now dominate the kopitiam scene, with stalls offering near-identical menus, branding, and prices
As you travel across Singapore, it’s hard not to notice how one kopitiam now looks—and tastes—remarkably similar to another. They are becoming increasingly indistinguishable from one another, with the same menus, the same few brands, and similar prices appearing everywhere.
Once, these spaces buzzed with communal energy. Families, students, and office workers mingled with stallholders who had spent decades perfecting their recipes.
But times have changed. Today, many kopitiams are either closing, lying vacant, or being taken over by franchise chains. Large landlords like Kimly Coffeeshop and Tam Chiak Kopitiam dominate the scene, filling outlets with well-funded brands that follow uniform branding, menus, and pricing.
Why is this shift happening, and what does it mean for Singapore’s beloved kopitiam culture?
A wave of closures

Back in the old days, local hawkers once experimented with their own recipes, built personal relationships with customers, and brought unique flavours to the table. The personality of the stall was as important as the food itself.
But as big operators moved in, the vibrancy and individuality of the traditional kopitiam began to fade. This shift isn’t just sentimental—hard numbers show the actual scale of the change.
From Jan to Oct 2025, 3,357 new retail food establishments were registered, while 2,431 shuttered during the same period.
Among those that closed, 63% had been registered for five years or less, and of that group, 82% had never turned a profit. These figures include small stalls, food courts, cafes, and restaurants, meaning independent operators have borne the brunt of the downturn.
Many stallholders simply chose to close their doors rather than continue running at a loss, including Japanese hawker chain Mentai-Ya.

High manpower costs and difficulty finding workers are key reasons individual F&B businesses struggle to achieve sustainable margins.
In a previous interview with Vulcan Post, Khoo Kheat Hwee, the former owner of Mentai-Ya, estimated that each employee costs S$4,000 to S$5,000 per month. Moreover, strict foreign-worker quotas and levies compounded the challenge.
Under MOM rules, only 35% of staff in the service sector can be foreign workers. For every foreign worker hired, two Singaporeans or PRs must be employed. Khoo described this ratio as a significant operational burden. Levy rates also rise as the number of foreign workers approaches the 35% cap, starting from S$450 per worker.
Foreign staff themselves have also begun demanding higher wages due to rising living and rental costs, pushing expected salaries from S$1,800–S$2,000 to at least S$2,500.
Moreover, ingredient inflation—amplified by recent GST hikes—hits small independent hawkers hardest, as they often purchase supplies at retail prices instead of in bulk. Rising utility costs add further pressure, making it increasingly difficult to offer affordable food and drinks—gone are the days of S$1 kopi or S$3 noodles.
Together, these factors shrink profits, force more hawkers to close, and gradually erode Singapore’s traditional kopitiam culture.
Skyrocketing rents are also forcing hawkers to close their doors
Rental pressure is a crushing burden for many individual hawkers as well.
Singapore has 776 coffee shops, including 402 privately owned. While 97% of government owned coffee shops have raised their prices over the past five years, at privately owned coffee shops, rental prices are set by landlords with no governmental control, and they can vary drastically based on location.

In Jun 2022, two coffee shops in Yishun and Tampines sold for over S$40 million each, including one at S$41.68 million. Food-culture advocate KF Seetoh also recently criticised record-high HDB coffee shop tenders, including one in Bidadari at S$73,888 a month and another in Tampines North Drive at S$88,889 a month.
Such astronomical figures push private landlords to charge steep rents to recover their investment, trapping stallholders in an impossible squeeze.
A Facebook post by consultant Indera Tasripin in May 2025 highlighted how these pressures force beloved stalls to shut down. He shared how a well-known Malay stall in Woodlands was grappling with a rent hike to S$8,000 a month, noting that others paying S$5,000–S$6,000 were also struggling.
Calling the situation “pure robbery and injustice,” he urged policymakers to address long-standing inequalities affecting hawkers.

During a parliamentary session in 2024, Workers’ Party member Jamus Lim asked whether the government would consider re-acquiring privately owned coffee shops under HDB to better control rental prices.
However, Senior Minister of State for National Development, Sim Ann, stated that these coffee shops operate in an open market, where the government cannot directly intervene in rental prices set by landlords.
This market dynamic was a key factor in Mentai-Ya’s closure. Since starting his businesses in 2020, Khoo claimed that coffee shop rental prices skyrocketed, with rates now starting at a minimum of S$5,000 to S$6,000 per month. “There [are] no more [coffee shops] with S$2,000 or S$3,000 rentals.”
He lamented that F&B business owners like himself are often unable to generate enough revenue to cover these soaring costs. As such, many traditional kopitiams have been quietly bought, renovated, and rented out stall-by-stall at higher rates.
Aging hawkers & the demand for modern standards

Beyond economic pressures, other factors are also reshaping kopitiam culture.
Many traditional hawkers are now in their 60s, 70s, or older, often without successors to continue their trade. Their children—often university-educated—prefer careers outside F&B. Hence, when these founders retire, their shops close, breaking the generational continuity that once sustained kopitiam culture.

Cleanliness also remains a persistent issue, with older coffee shop toilets often among the dirtiest in Singapore.
In 2020, NEA launched the Toilet Improvement Programme, co-funding up to 90% of renovation costs (capped at S$45,000), yet only 44 out of more than 1,000 coffee shops participated.
Larger chains, with their modern interiors, tend to maintain better toilet cleanliness, aligning with what younger consumers increasingly expect: clean spaces, consistent standards, and airier, more modern environments.
A systemic decline
The decline of Singapore’s kopitiams is systemic. Rising rents and operating costs overwhelm small operators. Cultural succession increasingly dries up as younger generations avoid F&B. As such, corporate chain F&B players continue to dominate.
Amidst shifting consumer habits, “kopitiam-ness” is increasingly industrialised while its intangible originality—the lifestyle and community hub—is disappearing.
In shopping malls, brands such as Oriental Kopi and Hawkers’ Street try to adopt a nostalgic aesthetic but ultimately operate like modern chains: central kitchens, systemised menus, premium pricing, and locations in malls or new HDB commercial spaces. Consumers may enjoy the look of tradition, but the culture and social fabric of the kopitiam are largely absent in such chains.
Traditional kopitiams were more than eateries; they were community news hubs, informal offices for uncles reading newspapers, neighbourhood meeting points, and even informal credit systems. Over the years, redevelopment, sterilised food courts, and chains have quietly dismantled this ‘chaotic’ social fabric that many of us crave for today.
The food survives, but the hustle and bustle of a kopitiam as a living, breathing neighbourhood institution risks becoming a relic of memory.
- Read other articles we’ve written on Singaporean businesses here.
Also Read: From Luckin to BYD: How Chinese brands quietly turned S’pore into their retail playground
Featured Image Credit: Cheng via Google Reviews/ SethLui
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