Juice Press: My Story Part One

The story of juice press really began long before I ever opened the first door. I grew up in retail. I worked with my father in the art gallery business, and later I ran a retail parachute equipment shop at a skydiving drop zone in upstate New York.

Back in the late 1990s through the early 2000s, there was a smoothie and juice bar on the corner of 2nd Avenue and 11th Street called Liquiteria. The founder, Doug Green, was an incredible retailer with sharp instincts. He built something unusual for New York at that time, and in that space he was a true pioneer. Big brands and smaller juice bars all took cues from him, and he helped many of us in his own way to start competing.

Doug was incredibly friendly and loved talking to his customers. He and I used to have long conversations about expansion. I would share my ideas, and we both enjoyed trading thoughts about retail.

I studied his business inside and out. I was still an amateur, but I paid attention to the details. I noticed how perfectly balanced his menu categories were. Each one complemented the others. His shop appealed to everyone, health enthusiasts and casual customers alike. Some people came for the cleanses, others just wanted a smoothie or snack. I was there all the time.

In 2006, while working again with my father, I decided I needed to get out of art and antiques. I wanted to open a juice business like Doug’s Liquiteria. I had saved enough money and was ready to try on my own. I asked my father if he wanted to partner, but he refused. He had never been in food service and thought it was beneath him to handle small sales. He was used to making thousands of dollars per transaction, not giving change for a $20 bill.

By 2008, I was restless. The antique store felt suffocating. Some days we would go hours without a sale, and my boredom was at a level ten. I started writing a business plan and reading everything I could find about how to do it. I had no clue what I was doing. I didn’t know how to project sales or even ask someone in the food industry for a sample profit and loss statement. I had no concept of construction costs. My mind wasn’t yet organized around branding, but I had a few hidden talents.

I was good at design and display from years working with my dad. I knew Photoshop and Illustrator and could make my own artwork. I didn’t mind tedious creative work. At the time, I considered moving to Florida to open my first store there, so I took a trip to explore.

While I was in Florida, I ran into an old acquaintance named Alain, a hustler type who always found ways to make money. I told him about my idea, and he said he had always wanted to do something like it. We decided to partner up. I liked his energy. He knew the area and a lot of people. We drove around scouting locations. The plan was simple: I would put up the money, and he would help run the store. He didn’t have any cash to invest, but he had hustle.

Within a month, we started arguing over details. I lost interest and backed out. I returned to New York and shelved the whole idea. I put the business plan in a Tupperware box and forgot about it.

A few days later, I was at a children’s park on East 1st Street and noticed a store I had walked past many times. It was suddenly vacant. That block almost never had openings, and I knew this was a rare opportunity. I ran across the street to talk to the real estate broker putting up the sign. The rent was $2,700. I offered $3,000 to make sure I got it. I had a feeling there would be competition, and I was right. Six weeks later, I had a signed lease.

While negotiating, I started thinking about the company name. My father suggested I pick something cute like Pinkberry, which was huge at the time. But I wanted something straightforward and simple. Around that time, when you searched Google for cold press juice machines, one of the top search results was “juice press for sale.” That clicked. Juice Press. Clean, direct, and obvious.

I trademarked the name and paid a $99 branding site to help design a logo. They gave me six options, and the one I chose became the first Juice Press logo you might remember from 2010. Looking back, it was perfect. The name was timely. Juice was about to explode into a craze. Even if people thought of us first as a juice bar, the word itself carried the purity of the wellness category. It was a great foundation for everything that came after.

Once I had the lease, I had to figure out how to actually build the place. I studied restaurants, asked questions about refrigeration, and tried to learn from anyone who would talk to me. Still, I felt insecure.

That’s when I called an acquaintance named Jacob Vainer, an honest and smart businessman who owned a health food store called Healthfully on East 4th Street. We had met at a Thai boxing gym and talked months earlier about possibly working together. I asked him to come see the store. He arrived right away, took one look, and said, “Let’s do it.”

We agreed to put in $35,000 each, though that estimate was laughably low. Jacob believed in me, and his confidence helped me move forward. He became my crutch in those early days.

A couple of months into construction, my old friend Alain from Florida stopped by. He had bumped into Jacob, and when he walked in and saw the store, he immediately sensed it was going to be something special. I wasn’t angry anymore, so I invited him back into the partnership.

We opened our doors in late April 2010. By summer, the business had traction. Within two months, we were doing about $1,800 a day in sales, and it looked like we were profitable. Jacob was thrilled. He said, “I’m just happy we got to $1,800 a day,” since it was more than he made at his other juice bar. I told him we would quadruple it, and we did.

By the end of that first year, Juice Press caught the attention of The New York Times. Back then, before social media had taken over, a story in print really meant something.

It was the beginning of everything.