There’s a place like this somewhere west of Mars

Above Photo, a natural non-conformist, Angie Hudson brings a counter-culture twist to the ante-bellum capital of Texas.

JEFFERSON, TEXAS — I bumped into Angie Hudson outside her place of business a couple of blocks south of the Marion County Courthouse. She introduced herself as a hippie. That seemed redundant considering her salt and pepper freak-flag dress, a style someone once called ‘middle-earth lunchroom chic’.

The Made in the Shade Boutique and Mining Sluice is a place where you can pan for real gemstones in the waterworks out back or chose an ensemble for your next Grateful Dead show.

I’m not sure there’s another place like it west of Mars. They rent golfcarts too.

When I pointed out to Angie that neither of us is actually old enough to be an authentic hippie, she let me in on a secret.

“I’ve heard that one before. But I’ll tell you what, I get 20-year-old hippies in here all the time. Hippies don’t much abide birth years – we’re more into birth months.”

She then explained something about her birth sign and I lost whatever suspicion I may have had about her counterculture pedigree.

Inside, the 60’s gently but squarely inhabit a repurposed World War II era warehouse that Angie and her partner converted into the present operation – and until recently, lived in, too. The vacated owner’s suite will debut shortly as a two-slot B&B, steps from the town square of one of the most popular weekend destinations in Texas.

Did I mention that Ms. Hudson was also an expert lamp mechanic? She picked that skill up early as a 35-year-old widow.

“A lady came into my store in Lindale and said she really liked an old lamp that I had for sale and she’d buy it, but it didn’t work. I told her to come back the next day and I somehow managed to get the thing working and she bought it. The day after that she showed up with half a dozen other lamps and asked if I could get them working, too. That was how I got my start in the lamp repair business. At that point in my life, with three kids and no husband, it was anything to make a buck.

“Did you know that the right crystal chandelier is worth a lot more if you don’t restore it than if you do?” she continued. “And that certain lamp parts are worth a lot of money. More money than you would think.”

I had no way of knowing either of those things but there’s a tone you can detect in someone’s voice when you’re certain they know what they’re talking about.

A while after getting into lamps, Angie saw an expensive blouse she wanted to buy and when she found out she could get a half a dozen of them at wholesale with her tax-number – viola! – Made in the Shade was in the apparel business.

That was 20 years back, before she moved the store to Jefferson. Clothing is bigger than lamps these days at Made in the Shade, a name inspired by the fact that the lamp business (and that gemstone mine…) have been pretty good to Angie.

She admits to a rougher-than-average upbringing and a husband who died by violence, leaving her to raise a son and two daughters on her own, a task she completed in 2011, after which she sold her house in Lindale and rented a shop in Jefferson.

“I sold some of my household goods through that first shop when I was getting this whole thing going,” she said.

‘This whole thing’ included a whirlwind of rented shops, booths and Canton First Mondays — anything to turn a buck.

Apparel and specialty retail is what’s known as a “low barrier to entry” business. As Angie proved, you can use stuff from your own kitchen and closet to get started. But surviving – and thriving – in the business for three decades is a feat that puts you in the big leagues in small towns.

“Hunger is an excellent motivator,” she said.

“You never got a real job?” I wondered.

“Hippie isn’t just a brand here at Made in the Shade,” she laughed. “I don’t make a very good employee.”

But she seems like a hell of a capitalist. I asked a few questions about the business.

“It’s hard to say how much is vintage, how much is new goods,” she said. “I still do lamp restorations and have learned a lot about the field over the years. We sell a lot of clothes and home goods. We’re renting carts and pedal trolleys now to the tourists. And our little Sluice Mining operation is popular. We sell you a bag of dirt that may have a small but genuine gemstone in it. Maybe not so small. That’s what makes it interesting. Then, you take it to the sluice and discover what you’ve got. There’s a slot machine aspect to it.”

I grew up around entrepreneurs. It’s clear this woman made the right choice when deciding to steer clear of W-2s.

Angie and a couple of her pals used to perform on Halloween night as the “Shady Ladies”. Dressed as witches they did a show that delighted hundreds for several years and raised lots of dough for the Shriner’s Hospital in Shreveport.

“But, next year, we’re doing this for the Friends of Jefferson Association,” she said. A band of volunteers, the FOJA raises funds to spay and neuter pets. They provide foster care for strays up for adoption. “We love animals,” she said.

That checks out. The bed and breakfast is going to be called “The Cat House.” Anyone who checks in will do so with the understanding that there are three cats and a dog there, too. And that the animals were there first.

Have I mentioned the oxygen bar?

It’s a sad fact in life that few of us manage to make a good living doing what we truly love. When you run into someone who’s managed to break that mold, there’s always a spring in their step that’s hard to train for.

“From the time I was a little girl, I always loved the kinds of things I sell in my store today,” she said. “Cool old stuff. Cool new stuff. You know – cool stuff.”

I do know. I began tripping over it when I walked in.

“The hippie thing definitely works,” I observed.

She agreed. “Yeah, I feel silly calling it ‘our brand’, but, –”

“Don’t ever feel silly about three decades of success,” I interrupted.

Like all good hippies, Angie Hudson is humble. She brushed off my compliment.

“You should ask me about my partner,” She said. “Half of this place is his fault.”

“What’s his name?”

“Shaggy.”

I smiled. “Don’t tell me – he’s an actual hippie?”

She smiled. “Nope. Shaggy’s an old biker.”

“I bet he has good taste, too.”

“I wouldn’t let him hang around if he didn’t.”