In the spirit of John Green’s book of the same title, our theme for the month of October is “the Anthropocene reviewed.” Writers were asked to review and rate some facet of human experience on a five-star scale.
When I was young, watching television commercials, I thought it was ridiculous for grocery stores to advertise themselves as “one-stop” shops. That was the entire point of a grocery store, I assumed. To have everything and the kitchen sink available to purchase in one building.
Now that I’m charged with shopping for myself (a promotion I’m probably underqualified for), I understand the tantalizing appeal for a “one-stop shop.”
I can devote an entire Monday to grocery shopping—but it’s more like grocery hopping, because I just can’t find everything I want at the same store, and my twenty-two-year-old brain is still convinced that “it will only take a second” to whip into Meijer and grab the specific size and style of volumizing Pantene shampoo, without getting distracted by half-off pints of blueberries and clearance rack jogging clothes. Spoiler alert: I get lost in Meijer. Every. Single. Time.
I’m somewhat loyal to Meijer, just because I’m a West Michigander. But lately with inflation (just in case you haven’t heard about it), I’ve switched to Aldi, which is significantly cheaper but still doesn’t have that precious bottle of Pantene shampoo, so I inevitably run back to Meijer and get lost once again.
And then I remember that Fresh Thyme has my favorite brand of gummy peach rings—I’ve never been a candy person, but the full-time work thing has made me craving senseless sugars—and I’ve made another grocery hop.
When I’m not power-walking through aisles, trying to beat the clock, I’m able to delight in the grocery-shopping process, finding joy in the diversity of food and giving thanks for the splendid array of products at my fingertips. But most of the time, I have no time. My schedule demands that I pick a “one-stop shop” and make do.
The closest I’ve ever come to a “one-stop shop” is Trader Joe’s. I love Trader Joe’s. I would live in Trader Joe’s if I could. When I was in college, I visited Trader Joe’s every week to satisfy all my snacking desires, which at the time were few, and I could buy soap there too. It had everything I needed, back when I only needed coffee, chocolate-chip cookies, and chamomile-scented soap.
The more I shop, the more I realize that something as simple as one’s favorite grocery store becomes a kind of identity marker. It’s not just about picking your favorite products. Privilege is involved. Where you shop is dictated by your financial means, economic outlook and status, access to transportation, views on health and wellness, and generational training.
But it’s also about your own personal lifestyle, what you like and prioritize. Choosing your “one-stop shop” just might be one of the biggest choices of your adult life.
I’ve chosen Trader Joe’s, and there are many reasons why. I have a car that will get me from my apartment in Eastown to 28th Street with no problems. I earn enough that buying extra snacks at not-Aldi prices won’t break my bank. I was raised to value healthy eating and quality food. I like things that are “special” and not necessarily name-brand. I appreciate the customer service delivered by people in Hawaiian shirts who ask you about your day. I am obsessed with the pumpkin-spice surprises that come out in October. Plus, I hoard the paper bags to reuse as all-purpose totes.
But I mostly love Trader Joe’s because it’s where my family goes.
My aunt lived in the Chicago suburbs, so for the longest time she had the closest access to Trader Joe’s. The rest of the family would visit yearly, making a pilgrimage to Trader Joe’s to stock up on dried mango slices, coconut-dusted cashews, sweet potato chips, and other goodies. My grandmother always kept a stash of Trader Joe’s chocolate on the top shelf in her coat closet and a little jar of 21 Seasoning Blend in a place of honor in her spice rack. I remembered when she debuted a “new dish,” a couscous pasta cooked with lentils and quinoa, and she beamed when she declared it was the latest Harvest Grains Medley from Trader Joe’s. Served with butter and salt, it was always presented as something special.
When I was a child, I saw the adults in my life excited to shop at Trader Joe’s. Now I shop where my memories take me.
But it doesn’t sell Pantene shampoo—so I have to dock a half-star. I give Trader Joes’s four and a half stars.
Hannah Riffell has landed in Lansing, Michigan twenty-three years after she was born there, nineteen years after she moved to Mississippi, seven years after she moved to Northern Michigan, and two years after she graduated from a university in Grand Rapids. You probably can’t find her because she’s either exploring the state, wandering around her city, or just lost in her own head.
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Four and a half stars for Trader Joes, but five whole stars for the grocery store journey you took us on 🙂
I vote for Trader Joes. But Aldi’s Sparkling Pumpkin Spice Cider makes me drive across town.
Thanks Gabbie 🙂 Can’t wait for the journey you’ll take us on this month!