Friends describe her as a "free spirit," but when asked where she might be, or nearly anything about her past, they draw a blank or mention something they heard from someone else in passing. Millie remains mum on her history. When asking shop owners if they've seen her, they are silent until they hear "the lady with the Polaroid camera." "Oh!" said one employee of Z Cioccolato candy shop. Locals and tourists often see the eighty-six-year-old character wandering the streets of North Beach. She has been described as friendly, and her smile has brightened the days of many.

What people do know for sure about Millie is that her name is Mildred Fishman Gardiner. She's a resident of the Columbus Hotel, she is Jewish, and frequents the cafes of North Beach. In particular, she enjoys listening to live music at "her spot," Enrico's.

According to Seamus Cronin, co-owner of Enrico's, Millie likes to go out when the weather is nice and shows up to the restaurant around seven o'clock some nights. "She's her own person," he says with a shrug.

This North Beach staple went missing in February and caused quite a stir. She turned up a few days later in a Reno hospital. The reason she was in Reno? She loves the synagogues there. She ended up getting on the wrong bus and going in the wrong direction. Once she was back in San Francisco, friends organized her birthday celebration at Enrico's on February 23, complete with a cake donated by Victoria Pastry.

In front of the Columbus Hotel, people greet each other as if they are old friends, and new friends bum cigarettes and chat it up in doorways. Millie steps out of the hotel and props her cane up on the planter outside. Every now and then she pulls a piece of chocolate out of her pocket, flips it over and over again in her hand before shoving it back into her pocket. From the hotel she walks to Green Street, tapping a motorcycle helmet and leaning on a parking meter along the way. The owner of a shop steps out and points his finger at her, "You better behave now, you behave!" To which Millie returns, "You behave, no, you behave." They both chuckle and Millie walks on down the street looking for a cafe to stop at, and peeking her head into bars. She wanders aimlessly in an area she knows very well.

Millie is hard to find because she has no particular agenda. While walking on Columbus Avenue she mumbles something about taking pictures and needing to pay rent, "Anybody want their picture taken?" she asks.

Jenny Antoniolli, owner of Columbus Cutlery and friend to Millie, says that she is "always out and about, here and there." Antoniolli was the person who drove up to Reno to bring Millie back in time for her birthday celebration after receiving a call from the hospital.

Millie said she is from Cleveland, Ohio. But the road that brought her to San Francisco is still a mystery. Now she sells roses and takes Polaroid pictures for $5 so she can pay rent. Some locals claim that Millie has been around for decades. During her days as a beatnik, she was depicted along with forty friends and North Beach faces (one of whom is rumored to have been her husband), in a mural that hung in the Old Spaghetti Factory located on Green Street. Bocce Cafe now occupies that space.

Most San Franciscans may not have heard of the "Polaroid Lady." This is because the allure and mystery that surrounds her has been cultivated by the locals and shopkeepers. They have daily chats with her and are on the receiving end of her bright eyes and smiley face. Some of the rumors about her past range from Holocaust survivor to rich heiress, and cannot be taken too seriously because Millie has reportedly shot them down herself. It seems as though the unknown and untold stories of Mildred Gardiner might remain just that.