The Last Antique Shop on San Diego’s Antique Row

Hawaiian shirts hang from the ceiling like Jimmy Buffett chandeliers. Shelves of Waterford Crystal, uranium glass, and 1930s Depression-era glass line the narrow walkways, the latter mass-produced during a time when few could afford fine china. There’s enough to pour a mai tai for every San Diegan within 20 miles. Vintage Tommy Bahama lives in the back room. Tiki memorabilia bumps shoulders with 25-cent vintage photographs and a hundred teeny tiny trinkets the size of shelled peanuts.

In the ’70s and ’80s, there were up to 24 antique shops on Antique Row in Normal Heights, remembers Dave McPheeters, owner of Zac’s Attic. When he opened his shop in 1999, only six to eight remained.

“The day of my opening, the grande dame [of Antique Row], the oldest one on the block, came to my store and said, ‘You’re BMOC. Big man on campus,’” he says.

Now, 27 years later, he’s not just the big man on campus. Zac’s Attic is the last antique store remaining on Antique Row.

McPheeters first caught the antique bug as a teenager, observing relatives and family friends who were collectors and eventually visiting auctions himself. There, he learned how to spot Victorian jewelry, tell a mahogany from a walnut dresser, and separate what’s worth a pretty penny from what’s worth an actual penny. While attending Herbert Hoover High School in City Heights, he would wander Antique Row after classes, asking shop owners questions and absorbing the craft.

Old Town was McPheeters’ proving ground. He got his start working in an antique shop there in the late ’60s before eventually expanding to three antique stores of his own. In ’99, he was persuaded to make the leap to Antique Row, despite its gradual decline over the decades. The year Zac’s Attic opened, three more stores closed their doors. The pattern continued until he was the last one standing.

“It mostly has to do with gentrification,” says McPheeters. “The prevailing rents down here used to be $1–2 per square foot [per month].” Such goes the age-old tale: National chains come in with deeper pockets, and landlords kick out long-standing, local tenants. Other landlords hop on the bandwagon and start raising their rents until one by one, the independents disappear.

“My saving grace is that I bought the property,” he says. “I don’t have a landlord to raise the rent.” The building was originally a 1920s craftsman home, destined to be torn down had McPheeters not stepped in.

Despite his immunity to the rent hikes, McPheeters is still a brick-and-mortar business owner in an inflated economy and e-commerce world, where online shopping accounted for 16.9 percent of total sales in the first quarter of 2026, up from 6.5 percent a decade ago. With no website, no email, and no social media, McPheeters is choosing the path of most resistance.

“I’m an antique in the antique business,” he says. “I like to do things the old way.”

But what McPheeters lacks in clicks and likes, he makes up for in conversations.

When people walk into Zac’s Attic—especially younger folks with an interest to learn—McPheeters is happy to spend as much time teaching as selling. Ask about a piece of uranium glass, and you’ll get a history lesson. Pick up a Hawaiian shirt, and he’ll walk you through the stitching, tags, and fabrics that separate the real thing from the knockoffs.

“The personal touch you get from coming to a shop like mine is one of the most important aspects of the business,” he says. “You’re going to learn more, and you’re going to feel better about what you’re buying.”

When our conversation turns to the people he has met over the years, McPheeters reaches for a tissue. His eyes glisten. To him, the business has always been about far more than a transaction. If something doesn’t work, he’ll say so.

“I will spend as much time talking someone out of a shirt than into buying it if it’s the wrong size, color, or texture,” McPheeters says.

He’ll tell customers what complements their complexion or hair, and he even keeps clean T-shirts behind the counter so shoppers can try on vintage pieces without a second thought. McPheeters’ graphic design background informs everything from the arch of cobalt-blue Danish collector plates to the soothing green wall color near the register, all intentionally chosen to create a welcoming space.

He may be the lone wolf of Antique Row, but McPheeters is far from isolated in the antique community. Away from the shop, he liquidates estates, lectures for church groups and women’s organizations, and regularly attends shows like San Diego’s Tiki Oasis, the largest and longest-running tiki festival in the world.

For Tanya McAnear, owner of vintage boutique Bad Madge & Co. in South Park, that kind of community-mindedness is part of what has kept independent vintage retailers going.

“Brick and mortar is a really tough business,” she explains. “You can not be faint of heart if you go into it.”

She also credits one of McPheeters’ greatest strengths to variety. Over the years, she has watched him diversify his inventory and keep up with trends without sacrificing quality, which has inspired others to do the same.

“Dave and I go way back,” McAnear explains. “I think a lot of people really admire and look up to him saying, ‘This guy showed us how to really do it.’”

The question remains: How much longer does the BMOC plan to stick around?

“Until I retire,” McPheeters laughs. “I don’t know when that’s going to be; I love what I do and I don’t have enough years on the calendar to liquidate what I own.”

Although Antique Row has evolved, Zac’s Attic still feels like the neighborhood McPheeters wandered as a teenager. The questions are the same, only now, they come from the other side of the counter.

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