Jenny Harris, 28

Bedford Avenue and North 9th Street

Jenny Harris

Jenny Harris Photograph by Jay Muhlin

"I'm a denim freak. These are Diesel jeans called Lowkys. I'm just waiting for them to quit on me—I wear 'em so much. They don't make them anymore, so I'm hoping someone will be totally over them soon and bring their pair into the store so I can buy them."

What are you up to? I'm on my way to work.

Where's work? Buffalo Exchange. I moved here from San Diego to open the location here in Williamsburg.

That's the secondhand store with the program where people can bring in their furs, right? Yeah, you can donate your faux or real fur coats, and we send them to rehabilitation centers to comfort animals recovering from surgery and stuff.

So animals can't tell the difference between real and fake fur? [Laughs] I guess not.

Do you like buffalo wings? No, chicken creeps me out.

Is your whole wardrobe made up of Buffalo Exchange finds? Um, yes.

Ever think it's weird to be wearing other people's clothes? Y'know, I'm really used to it. But when I've sold an item to the store and then someone's buying it and I say, 'Oh, that used to be mine,' it totally freaks them out. So I stopped doing that. Too much information, I guess.

TONY likes too much info. Got any more for me? Well, let's see. I have tattoos in both my armpits.

No way. Yep. A lady with a moustache, and a flea with a saddle.

Do you, uh, grow the moustache yourself? No, but when my armpit hair does grow it looks like she has a five o'clock shadow. It's really pretty funny.

You must get a lot of double takes. Yes. Sometimes it freaks people out when I raise my arms, which happens all the time at work.—Kate Lowenstein