When A Grocery Store Feels Like Home

Aldi has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.

I grew up in Michigan with two pathologically frugal parents. This meant that large grocery stores like Meijer or Kroger (that’s the same as Ralphs for you West Coast folks) were considered a bit too bougie for our family — after all, why pay a dollar for a can of soup when you could pay 88 cents? Instead, we opted for Aldi, a physically smaller space with very few bells and whistles and an enduring sense of down-to-earth delight that actually made me look forward to getting groceries with my mom after soccer practice.

Those of us who grew up frequenting Aldi can probably recall the details in our sleep: the orange-tinted tile floors, the squeaky grocery carts retrieved with quarters, our parents sending us on the hunt for empty cardboard boxes to carry items home in, and the friendly checkout line employees who seemed to work at warp speed as they slid cans along the conveyor belt.

Name brands were simply not on my radar as a kid. Instead of Cheerios, my brother and I started our mornings with Millville Crispy Oats. When it came to yogurt, there was no Dannon in sight, but our fridge was well-stocked with Friendly Farms. A friend and I once took to the aisles of Aldi in search of a sweet treat and left with the store’s very own version of Kit-Kats: Krisp Stix, a name that we still laugh about to this day. Clancy’s pretzels and Matt’s chocolate chip cookies were my favorite snacks, while the cardboard boxes we brought home from Aldi turned into beds for the family cat.

In later years, I showed up to college parties with bottles of Winking Owl wine (known fondly as just “Owl” by my dad), which only cost me three bucks. As an adult, I still often prefer Aldi brands to name brands — a testament to my Aldi-heavy upbringing.

Until a few years ago, my adoration for Aldi felt like a personal quirk. Maybe I only loved it because it reminded me of my childhood, or perhaps it was just a “thing” in our family. It wasn’t until I stumbled upon the Aldi Aisle of Shame Facebook group that I realized I was in good company.

Regular Aldi shoppers are likely familiar with the Aisle of Shame, whether or not they’re aware of its silly nickname. Abbreviated to “the AOS” by Aldi superfans, the aisle can be found in the front of most stores and is loaded with all sorts of specialty selections and non-grocery items.

The aisle’s name comes from the fact that many Aldi shoppers drop in for “just a few grocery items,” only to leave in shame with a cart full of fun — but admittedly unnecessary — finds from the AOS. In recent years, Aldi has cleverly played into its online popularity by introducing branded merchandise and apparel that caters directly to fanatics like me (and, yes, I do own multiple pairs of Aldi logo pajamas).

AOS community members even have their own greeting, which should cause no alarm if you hear it in the middle of an Aldi shopping trip. The tradition is simple: when you’re feeling especially brave while perusing the AOS, yell out, “Caw caw!” If another AOS Facebook group member is within earshot, they’re obligated to return your caws. Yes, like a crow. I couldn’t even tell you the origins of this tradition — nor have I ever been brave enough to caw myself — but its absurdity perfectly captures the spirit of Aldi’s online community.

Beyond the good deals and silliness, there’s a genuine sense of camaraderie and goodwill in the AOS Facebook group. Folks will post about picking up their favorite Aldi treats after a long day of chemo or share stories about “pay-it-forward” moments with fellow shoppers. Lifelong Aldi-goers like me will reminisce about discontinued products, while newcomers might garner recipe ideas or ask for product recommendations. When people share photos of themselves modeling the latest Aldi merch, they’re showered with kind words and compliments.

I’ve even read stories of people making actual, genuine, real-life friends from chance meetings in the Aisle of Shame — shoppers who have bonded over recent widowhood or a passion for gardening or similarly aged kids. It’s unconventional, but it’s sweet. I feel lucky to be a part of it.

When my daughter was born this summer, her first trip to Aldi was a momentous occasion that ranked just slightly below her initial homecoming. I forced my husband to take a picture of us as I pushed her stroller through the parking lot, reusable shopping bags in tow. And, as though they knew I was a new parent, the good folks at Aldi released a fresh slew of baby products just as I entered motherhood. After all, I’ve gotta start my daughter young.

There are very few places that remain largely unchanged for an entire lifetime. My parents have moved out of my childhood home and I’ve done my fair share of traveling over the years, but Aldi has given me much-needed doses of nostalgia in all sorts of circumstances. I’ve walked into Aldi stores in Germany, Ireland, Los Angeles, and just about anywhere else I’ve stumbled upon them, always utterly delighted to find familiarity (and plenty of affordable snacks).

It only takes a few moments of pushing my creaky cart on those timeless tile floors and a stroll through the Aisle of Shame to know I’m right at home.

Sophie Boudreau is a writer and editor with more than a decade of experience covering lifestyle, culture, and political topics. She previously served as senior editor at eHow and produced Michigan travel content for Only In Your State. Other credits include BuzzFeed and COURIER, where she currently contributes as a national writer. When she’s not writing, Sophie can be found thrifting with her husband and daughter, traveling, and shamelessly bingeing “90 Day Fiancé” in all its iterations.