One of the feelings that has characterised my New York experience so far is that of paralysis by choice. Walking into Duane Reade, confronted by 72 different types of toothpaste, I find myself unable to muster my thoughts into a coherent decision. When someone asks me whether I want blue, Swiss, cheddar, American, or cream cheese on something, I stare at them blankly. Perusing colourful candy bars and endless gossip magazines leaves me hypnotised; choosing coathangers at The Container Store on the weekend almost had me in a state of catatonia.
Of all major choices I have had to make in the last week, the one by which I am most seriously paralysed is that of supermarket. So scared into indecision I am at the thought of aligning myself with one grocery store in particular, I have yet to visit any of them, and as such have been forced to survive on raw almonds and sushi . It is not only about number of supermarkets from which there are to choose, although that is certainly part of it. But even more serious is the gravity of the decision. It seems that in New York one commits to a supermarket as they commit to a life partner - they stay with them through thick and thin, they travel long distances to be with them, and they defend them against public criticism. New Yorkers love Trader Joes, Whole Foods, Zabars, The Food Emporium, Costco, or Fairway so passionately, wearing their heart on their sleeve. A trip to Trader Joes reveals an underground lair of hundreds of deliriously happy people, passing coconuts and peanut butter cups to shopping companions, reaching up to select organic cereals from high shelves for short grannies, revealing their innermost insecurities to the hawaiian-shirted girl at the cashier. People are crazy for that place, seriously!
The New Yorker had a great article on this a couple of weeks ago, I'd recommend it to anyone facing the same paralysing decision. Your choice of supermarket may go on to determine your future, so you'd want to make sure you read up on all of your options before you take the plunge. Because, I suspect, in New York it would be much harder to leave your supermarket than it would be to leave your life partner.
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