Grocery shopping was never something I thought about until recently. Moving into my own apartment opened a venue to another world of responsibility I’ve managed to avoid for eighteen years. Now the thought of waking up to make a trip to Meijer haunts me at night while the thought of visiting the farmer’s market on my day off keeps me going throughout the week. Grocery stores exist in three ranks for me: essential, luxury, and somewhere in between. Meijer is the essential, where I go to grab broccoli or milk when I run out. Farmers’ markets are almost a luxury. I have to make an effort to wake up early on Sunday and get on the bus, adhering to the market’s time as opposed to my own. I get the leisure to walk around freely as opposed to checking the clock while rushing to grab what I need, allowing myself to try new things as I sip on a seven dollar glass of orange juice. Other stores like Whole Foods, Food for Living, and Fresh Thyme are for items I can’t find at Meijer that I deem essential to my own desire for good food. I go there for fresh bread, food catered to a healthy lifestyle that is unavailable or more expensive elsewhere. These three categories have dominated my grocery shopping habits. I know what I want, what type of atmosphere I’m walking into, and how much time I want to spend at each place because of this classification.
Meijer seems to be everyone around me. There are two perched up merely a bus ride away from Michigan State’s campus. Upon entering the fluorescent lit aisles of the larger-than-life store, one can easily get lost amongst the overwhelming plethora of options available. I usually walk down every aisle of smaller grocers, but I know I can’t do that here. If I have to go to Meijer I make a list and stick to it. This is because Meijer seems to be targeted to fit all your needs. The idea of McDonaldization seems to construct the entire store. The bakery is there to provide quick, fresh food. The school supplies are merely an aisle away from the cereal boxes. The prices are perfect for the working family. And their abundance in most areas provides convenience for the shopper. Entering the store alone places you amongst the thousands of families and students trying to cram their shopping in. There seems to be a hustle here that is carried by this silent agreement that you’re grabbing what you absolutely need - milk, cereal, snacks, garden tools, a bike. The lady staring at an apple for ten minutes before putting it back is one of the few people there whose kids aren’t pulling at their winter coats. The familial annoyance of wanting to finish grocery shopping predominates the atmosphere at Meijer, even for college students who want to rush home after a long day of classes. A trip there is almost never leisure because of this, it’s a chore you have to cram time for in your week’s busy schedule. Since the store seems to be built around the idea of abundance and convenience, leisure gives way to those two things. The essential purpose of Meijer is then to satisfy those basic needs that we view as necessary as opposed to optional. Farmers’ markets are the opposite. They are visited with excitement and anticipation. Fresh fruits and vegetables are placed in colorful baskets or under a tent with a smiling face telling you they were picked two blocks away five minutes ago. There is often live music and homemade butters and jams, with families spending time together on the parents’ day off. This is because farmers’ markets are seasonal and often only held a couple of days a week, usually on the weekends. No one needs to get essentials from a farmer’s market. Instead, there is an anticipation for what one can find there. Walking around is fun on its own. The atmosphere is more relaxed than Meijer because of this. Families are there because they want to be, not because they had to pick up milk on the way home from school. The kids are outside trying new things, making it an experience as opposed to merely a grocer. When I visited Detroit’s Eastern Market on Saturday morning, I was bubbling with excitement. There were pumpkins neatly lined up, the sun shining on scented pine cones and fresh cider. There were men and women singing, playing guitars and bucket drums. There were stands with couples who made their own honey and mustard. Everything there seemed to exist within a festive atmosphere instead of an obligatory one. As a result, everything there was also very expensive. No one is going to fill a huge cart of food from the Eastern Market. I buy things selectively, usually things local to Detroit. I noticed other families doing this as well. I noticed most families carrying items they can’t find at larger grocers, such as local organic vegetables and homemade butter. Farmers’ markets are then clearly less versatile, more elitist in the sense that they attract those who can afford to buy those things we often view as inessential. This goes back to the idea of what is essential and what isn't. Meijer encompasses a world of convenience made to give you what you want when you want it. Farmer's markets are seasonal, usually there only for a few hours of the day. This lack of availability accounts for the difference between their status within people's lives. Demand for products here is based upon personal preference as opposed to urgent need. There is a sense of choice in going to a farmer's market that is absent when one has to get groceries for the week. Fresh Thyme on the other hand is the perfect medium between the two. Their neat, wooden shelves offer different cheeses, fresh bread, local jams, freshly ground nut butters, and seasonal pies. The aisles are wooden, reflecting a natural atmosphere that’s contradictory to Meijer’s white plastic shelves stocked full with Kellogg’s and scattered snacks. This is meant to establish a certain image about the place which distinguishes it from other grocers. The wood signifies a simpler way of life, one that takes us back to a time when produce was fresh and everything was natural. Fresh Thyme may seem like the less processed version of Meijer, but in reality a lot of their products are nearly identical. Both the Fresh Thyme and Meijer brands include a variety of labels that Melanie Warner has described in Pandora's Lunchbox as ambiguous. Despite the price difference and packaging, many of the products have additives within them that span across the whole variety of processed food. Warner's long lists of sodium variations comes in handy here. It becomes clear that this unregulated use of additives we know nothing about is a simple truth in the food industry. In this sense Fresh Thyme doesn't seem so different from a Meijer despite the distinguishing atmosphere it offers its shoppers. Fresh Thyme is different from a farmer’s market in that it’s still ultimately a grocery store, one where people go for essentials. Yet the demographic is predominately college students and people without kids. Young couples stroll to get their essentials. The carts are rarely filled to the rim as with Meijer. The food everywhere is deemed healthier, with avocado oil bean chips and organic fruit snacks replacing Lay’s and Welch’s. This explains the difference in prices. Fresh Thyme is not Whole Foods expensive but it’s not Meijer cheap. The store employees seems to be familiar with a lot of the customers, making conversation that transcends the mere small talk that would take place at a larger grocery store. I go once a week after work, grabbing a sandwich for lunch. The size of the store is just right for a stroll, never too crowded for me to take my time. However, I have to set a budget here as well. There are items I even reserve for Meijer due to their ridiculous price inflation at Fresh Thyme. The trend I noticed amongst both stores is the price difference between other brands and their own. The product that is the store’s own brand name is almost always less expensive than the larger brands. This makes sense because it causes customers to choose the store’s own brand over the others. Fresh Thyme (mostly) does a good job at making their ingredients visible and minimal, which is why they’re a perfect healthy alternative between fresh, local and processed. Whether one is buying a pack of ramen noodles or a sixteen-dollar block of taleggio cheese, striking a balance between grocers seems ideal. Yet there ultimately exists a cultural and socioeconomic identification with where one goes. All the grocery stores were predominately white in East Lansing while the Detroit Eastern Market had more African Americans. Other than Meijer, both smaller grocers indicated an attraction of families of higher income, with prices to reflect the fact. Meijer seemed to attract a larger audience, one carried by urgency as opposed to leisure. All of these factors affected the way I shopped at these stores, and the way I currently view them in comparison to how I did before understanding their different purposes.
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