What Is It Like To Shop At The Very First Trader Joe's?

If you didn't know what you were looking for, you might drive right past it. The first Trader Joe's — the one that opened in 1967 and kicked off a national obsession — sits tucked into a modest stretch of Pasadena's South Arroyo Parkway. The building still stands, still operates, and still sells organic jalapeño limeade to people in Birkenstocks. And while the logo above the entrance has changed since the early days, the inside holds onto a different kind of legacy.

The store itself is smaller than most of its modern-day siblings, with a cozier layout and a certain retro hum that's hard to fake. It's not built for fanfare — the parking lot can be tight, and yes, there's a bigger Trader Joe's just up the road — but there's something about this original location that regulars and visitors alike describe as "historic" without it feeling like a museum. The handwritten signage, the warm staff, the mix of old favorites and newer finds — it's all here, packed into a space that's stayed true to its roots.

There's a reverence to the place, even if you're just there for snacks. And for longtime fans, stepping inside almost feels like a pilgrimage. It might not be your first trip to Trader Joe's, but it's the one that feels like a rite of passage. 

The first Trader Joe's didn't look like a cultural shift — it looked like a small grocery store trying something a bit different. When it first opened, it stocked what you'd expect from a neighborhood market, but with a growing list of carefully chosen finds.

Brie (one of the only cheeses that wasn't blocked by import restrictions) sat next to budget wine. The granola — the first product to carry the Trader Joe's name — hinted at what the store was starting to build: fewer brand names and more control over what made it to the shelf.

A lot of that came down to Joe Coulombe's approach. He didn't want a traditional grocery store. He wanted something smarter, more curated, and maybe even a little strange. International travel played a large part in Trader Joe's origin story — not just as inspiration for the products, but for the whole aesthetic. Coulombe borrowed from the tiki trend and leaned into a tropical theme, naming the store after Trader Vic's and dressing employees in Hawaiian shirts. It made the place feel less like a grocer and more like a laid-back outpost for the globally curious. That debut in Pasadena would grow into a private-label strategy that shaped the store's identity from the inside out.