When I was growing up, my family oscillated wildly between doing quite well and being dirt-poor, depending on how well my father's latest business scheme was doing. Like yours, my mom was an aggressive coupon-clipper and thrift-store haunter. She eschewed pawn shops, though, telling me that they rip people off and she wouldn't help them make money by buying used stuff from them even if it WAS a bargain. One thing I remember her saying in particular was (and I'm sure I paraphrase): "If it's worth $30 but you can buy it for $25, it's a certainty that they paid some poor bastard five bucks for it."
I've used pawn shops on a couple of rare occasions since then, and I've stood waiting in line while the guy with the green eyeshade told the customer in front of me that he just can't give him more than ten bucks for his wedding ring. Once, I just walked out.
Of course, we only had one pawn shop where I grew up, but an abundance of thrift stores, so we could get all sorts of used stuff whenever we wanted. My mom felt better about buying something from Goodwill or the Salvation Army than contributing to Slippery Vito's retirement fund.