Then and Now: Parisian Grocery Store Escapades

The moment I spritzed myself with perfume, I thought: “I’ve gone too far.”  It was 9 a.m. on a Saturday, and I had just spent 20 minutes getting ready to go to Monoprix for a standard grocery run.  As I was making my way there, it struck me that there wasn’t a single item on me that had made the journey with me from the US.  It made me reflect on how far I’d come since my very first morning outing to Monoprix as a Parisian resident. 

Okay, full disclosure here—I had attempted a grocery run on the afternoon of my arrival.  But it didn’t go as planned.  Why, you ask?  Because I quite literally couldn’t find the food.  Unbeknownst to me, my local Monoprix had 4 levels!  Of course, back then, jetlag had me in a daze, and I assumed the ground level was the only level.  All I saw were women’s clothing, make-up, wine, and takeaway meals.  I ended up leaving with a sandwich, salad, and a pre-chilled bottle of wine.  Thankfully, my landlord’s daughter didn’t seem to judge me when I texted her later that day, admitting my Monoprix layout blunder.  Turns out, I had completely missed the escalators in the back corner with a giant arrow painted on the wall pointing down to the basement where the real food was hiding.

So let’s do a little then-and-now comparison, shall we?  

Then:  In anticipation of moving to Paris, I diligently watched a slew of expat YouTubers giving tips on life in the city.  They all insisted that yoga pants were not appropriate attire for running errands.  So, I wore jeans.  But if my memory serves me correctly, I paired those jeans with a hoodie, ballet flats, and a messy top bun.  Despite my rather casual appearance, I was rocking a full face of makeup.

Now:  After a quick brush of my hair, I secure it into a much neater twist with a clip.  I complete a 5-step skincare routine but skip makeup.  I’m wearing a new sweater complete with buttons and a shirt collar, 7/8 jeans, a much-sought-after sea blue scarf that makes my eyes pop, and gold leather sneakers.  And let’s not forget that utterly ridiculous perfume spritz.

Then:  My 17th arrondissement apartment was less than half a kilometer away from Monoprix, a mere 7-minute stroll.  After the door button fiasco, I had a bit of a nervous sweat going.  For no good reason, I felt the need to power walk my way to the store.  At 8 a.m., the sidewalks were empty, and the only person rushing me was, well, me. 

Now:  In the Parisian suburbs, it’s now a 1 km journey.  I take it easy, arriving in much the same physical condition as when I set off.  It’s a leisurely 15-minute stroll.

Then: I had aimed to get the store right when it opened to avoid crowds.  Unbeknownst to me, this was also when all the shelves were being restocked.  There were crates, boxes, and stock carts scattered about, turning the store into an obstacle course.  Since I had to explore every aisle (more than once) to learn the layout and find anything familiar, it turned into quite the workout.  The sweating continued.     

Now: I typically arrive about 30 minutes after opening.  Sure, there are still pallets and carts to dodge, but I’ve learned that I’d rather dodge inanimate objects than fellow shoppers.  The first wave of customers arrives 60 to 90 minutes post-opening, and I’m all about avoiding that. 

Then:  I had my phone at the ready, prepared to rely on Google Translate for EVERY SINGLE ITEM.  This would have worked, except there was no cell phone signal under all that concrete.  I had to change tactics and pick up items based on name or brand recognition.  Apples look like apples everywhere, just so you know. 

Now:  I honestly can’t remember the last time I used Google Translate in a French grocery store.  Now, if I see an item that looks appealing, even if I can’t translate it, I buy a small quantity to test it out.  How else will I learn all the French dairy? 

Then:  Those YouTubers also said to bring a bag, so I repurposed a canvas beach bag.  The cheap faux leather handles were large enough to sit on my shoulder when the bag was empty.  But once it was filled with groceries, those handles were blocked by the contents.  So, I had to resort to hand-carrying the bag, slightly tilted to avoid it dragging on the ground. Needless to say, the sweat situation was escalating.

Now:  I come prepared with two canvas bags made specifically for grocery shopping.  One is from Picard and is insulated for frozen or refrigerated items.  The other has cleverly placed pockets at the front and back to evenly distribute the weight of two liters of milks or two bottles of wine, depending on the mood.

Then:  I also knew to bag my groceries myself.  But after bonjour, everything the cashier said was gibberish.  There was some line like “Vous merherminerrr carte durmurherm ?”  You card? What?  I stared at the cashier, completely lost, and shook my head while flashing my debit card.  It was the only carte I had.  Leaving the store, I was eager to find a place with an automatic checkout ASAP.    

Now:  I know that the carte they were asking about is une carte de magasin or une carte de fidélité—a loyalty card.  I’ve got ALL the store loyalty cards these days.  And I know to announce my method of payment even when it’s obvious.   

So, what did I put in my bag on that memorable first day?  Well, it took me an hour to round up 10 items:

-        A pre-packaged box of apples (I was not ready to tackle the all-in-French fruit scale/label maker device.)

-        A pre-packaged bag of oranges (Still dodging the scale.)

-        A box of Frosted Flakes (Tony was a much-needed friendly face, plus they’re GRRREAT!)

-        Coffee pods (which, of course, turned out to be the wrong size for my machine)

-        Heavy cream (In my defense, the label just said crème, and, after a fruitless search of the dairy section for Coffee-Mate, this was my only solution.  When it poured out rather lethargically, I knew I had made a mistake.) 

-        Strawberry yogurt (Intended for breakfast or lunch, it turned out that I bought yaourt velouté, which is a velvety and sugar packed—better as a dessert.) 

-        An 8-pack of 15 cL cans of Coca-Cola (The weight is important.  Because, when I originally put the six-pack of 33 cL (=12 oz) cans in my bag, the weight was too much to bear, and I didn’t want to put sweat AND tears into this outing.) 

-        A liter of refrigerated milk (I knew that milk was mostly sold unrefrigerated, but I had no idea you could just rip open the packaging and didn’t have to buy all 6 liters of milk.  Refrigerated milks was sold by the liter.  Again, avoiding tears and more sweat.)

-        Stevia (Because Splenda isn’t available, and the sugar bag was too heavy.)

-        Frozen meals (The contents of the meal were conveniently pictured on the packaging—no translator needed!)

Fortunately, I’ve evolved since that first morning.  These days, I’m a pro at la balance de marché. I forgo the cream entirely having switched from filtered coffee to espresso.  And I haven’t seen Tony in a while.

The initial nervousness and sweat have given way to a more relaxed and enjoyable experience.  I am starting to feel like an adult.  There have certainly been more mistaken purchases, but, whether it's the change in my outfit choices or shopping strategies, my grocery store escapades have become a testament to resilience, adaptability, and the sheer joy of discovery, one supermarket adventure at a time.