SOUTH PASADENA, CA — Tucked between the Griffins of Kinsale Irish Pub and Teamorrow in Mission Street’s iconic Alexander Building, Hodgson’s Antiques stands as a testament to the passage of time and the preservation of memories. Founded 53 years ago by Peggy and Leonard Hodgson, the antique shop is a cherished local institution.
Back in the day, Peggy ran the front of the shop while Leonard, who specialized in the restoration of antique furniture, worked behind the scenes. Although Leonard has since retired, Peggy still runs the front desk, dispensing the pearls of wisdom born from 50 years in the antiques business. In fact, Peggy holds the remarkable distinction of being South Pasadena’s longest continuously-operating business owner!
Even after all these years, Hodgson’s remains a family affair. Peggy and Leonard’s children, Samara and Ronnie, have joined their mom in the shop. Samara’s inimitable flair for vintage style—showcased in the adjoining South Pasadena Vintage space—has made Hodgson’s a favorite destination for clothing aficionados with a passion for vintage fashion, while Ronnie carries on his father’s legacy of high-quality furniture restoration.
The shop is a treasure trove of ordinary artifacts of daily life from decades gone by. Pristine-looking Playboy magazines from the late 1950s, vintage Pyrex cookware, a display of decorative porcelain shoes, and a limited-edition Mr. Potato Head figurine in its original box sit incongruously and yet somehow harmoniously together on Hodgson’s crowded shelves.
Some objects have such strong decade-specific energy that I can’t help but be transported to another place and time—browsing becomes a sensory journey.
Around one corner, a pleasant chill runs down my spine as I encounter an oddly sinister array of antique dolls with their tiny, sharp teeth set between cupid’s-bow lips in smooth hard plastic faces. Elsewhere, the stunning post-World War II costume jewelry and old nightclub matchbooks evoke the glamor of Hollywood heydays so completely that I can almost smell cigarette smoke and faded perfume wafting in the air. A rack of afghans, hand-crocheted in garish shades of nylon yarn, conjures up a 1970s family room. I can practically see one draped on the back of a La-Z-Boy recliner, while an oven timer chimes signaling that TV dinners are ready over the laugh track of “All in the Family” echoing from an ancient, antennaed TV set.
My favorite part of Hodgson’s, though, is the ephemera section. I can spend hours thumbing through old postcards and Valentines, peering at faded ink and trying to decipher spidery handwriting. When did our handwriting as a society change from elegant if sometimes cramped and illegible to clunky and crude, all bubbles and blocks? The boxes of old photos—featuring milestone moments like first cars and first loves, first birthdays and 50th wedding anniversaries—arrange themselves into art that I like to think of as “Still Lifes with Strangers.”
Needless to say, my friends usually just leave me in Hodgson’s and go get coffee without me.
Hodgson’s is a haven for those who appreciate the sentimentality of the past. Minimalists, clutter-clearers, and the unromantic should definitely keep walking. But for some of us, Hodgson’s is a museum of ordinary life and the little beloved things, the things that people can’t bear to part with. I’m glad I’m not alone in feeling the value in bearing witness to the passage of time by preserving the memories of forgotten people.
