"I loved it from the get-go. I loved the variety, the option to dress in any decade I chose. . . . It just got to seem so wasteful to buy new."
She's still at it. Earlier this month, I joined Jenkins, 44, on one of her biweekly jaunts from her Havertown home to some of her dozen or so favorite shops.
Sure, it's about the thrill of the chase, she says. It's also about economizing in a family with four children. And increasingly, the environment is a factor.
"It just makes sense on a variety of levels," she told me as we pulled up outside the Salvation Army in Collingdale.
Inside, she started in the T-shirt area. Her 14-year-old son likes the ones with skateboard logos and made a list of preferred brands.
Flipping quickly, she passed on the $2.50 GAP shirt and the $1.50 Eagles shirt. Then she paused. "Now here's one. Quicksilver." And for $1.50; new, it might be $20.
She made sure there were no stains, tears, or stretched neck, then put it in her basket.
Then she browsed a shirt rack where she cruised among offerings by L.L. Bean and Tommy Hilfiger.
In women's, she found a $2.50 skirt. Its layers of silk and velvet were just funky enough for her daughter, a college sophomore, who as a result of their shared thrift-store mania has adopted "a clothing trend all her own."
I had expected the clothes to be shabbier. But many were in fine shape; some still had store tags affixed.
About 45 minutes later, Jenkins paid $8.45 for one skirt and four T-shirts.
The National Association of Resale and Thrift Shops cites consumer research showing 16 percent to 18 percent of Americans shop at thrift stores and that the sector's sales are rising sharply. That's the trend, given the poor economy and the expanding green movement.
Want to get an idea of what could be going into landfills? In this region alone, Goodwill Industries' Michael Shaw estimates that donors bring in more than 2.3 million pounds of clothing a year.