The Skinny on Minnie

It's easy to shout an angry message onto an editor's voice mail at 4 a.m. It's even easier to type a stinging anonymous comment under one of her stories. What's not so easy is writing her a critical letter, signing your name, marking a return address and tossing a business card in the envelope for good measure.

That's why I have such an appreciation for Minnie Mistretta, one of my most faithful, brutally honest readers. If the woman throws a metaphorical brick through my window, she's sure to wave at me from the other side to be sure I know from whom it came.

In one letter she greets me with a "You've got to be kidding me!" In another letter she simply compares Anna Wintour's dress to a cleaning cloth. But, that's probably better than devoting an entire page to Michelle Trachtenberg's "ugly knees," especially after I used plenty of my own ink hailing the young actress' skirt.

Sometimes I suspect she's just reminding me she's still reading Image, like in a letter she sent a few months ago. She simply told me about a denim dress she was loving at the time and signed it "All is well, Minnie."

Every letter contains a card with the words "Fashion Advice" and a picture of her in a leopard print hat, tickling my curiosity about the woman behind the shaky cursive handwriting. What's her story? Where is she from? And, who, besides yours truly, is she giving fashion advice? So, I finally decided to pick up the phone and give Miss Minnie a call.

First things first. "I hope my letters don't offend you," she said. On the contrary, I explained how I've come to look forward to them.

About a week later I found myself gabbing over fashion magazines with her, side by side on the couch of her Henderson home. My pen pal can best be described as a fabulous cross between Sophia Petrillo of "The Golden Girls" and Carrie Bradshaw of "Sex and the City." The 69-year-old stands 5 foot 2½, proudly weighs 97 pounds and dresses as bravely as she signs opinionated letters. I should know as she modeled several of her favorite pieces for me the day we met, including a hot pink feather boa.

I sat in her living room and listened to the click of her black knee-length boots and the swish of her long denim skirt as she bobbed back to her bedroom. Out she came, every time, with a "get a load of this" expression on her face. Two fur coats (one mink), one leopard print coat, an embellished cardigan, blinged out fanny pack and a sequined hat completed the runway looks. Each accompanied by the kind of story only a seasoned clothes horse would care to remember and only a curious fashion editor relishes hearing.

The fashion show came at the end of our visit, though. When I first arrived, Minnie wanted to lay down some of her rules. Fashion rules, that is. She feels very strongly about covering the arms of mature women. Unless the mature woman in question is Helen Mirren. She's opposed to belts because they only "thicken" a girl up.

"You need to drop the waist, honey," she said in her Southern accent. "That's what I told Michelle Obama when I dropped her a note."

Dropped her a note? "So, who else do you write letters?" I asked, hoping she couldn't hear the jealousy.

It turns out I'm in stellar company as she's also corresponded with Oprah Winfrey, who she kindly advised needs to stay away from three-quarter length sleeves. As it happens, both women already had stylists giving them fashion advice. Their staff let Minnie know as much in letters of their own.

We peppered our Glamour magazine talk with personal tidbits. She hails from New Orleans, where she lived until Hurricane Katrina had her evicted. She wears Bob Mackie perfume. She lives with her companion of 23 years. She loves Paris Hilton's figure, but not her personality. She was married 18 years, has a son and daughter and three grandchildren. Fendi, Dooney & Bourke and Coach make up her top handbag designers. She worked as a court clerk 29 years. She suspects Kim Kardashian has a "problem (patting her backside) back here."

At one point, Minnie stopped and got excited as something dawned on her. "Oh, oh! Would you like to know my definition of 'image'?" she asked me, referring to the question we ask each week in our Show Us Your Purse feature. I nodded my head yes, eager to hear her answer: "Image is liking yourself," she said.

I could tell she's thought about that answer every time she's opened Image, which has been weekly for almost five years.

After she expressed her gratitude for our meeting, I worried she might hesitate to drop me a critical line in the future. She put that thought to rest when I arrived at her house a couple days later. Minnie greeted me with a tear sheet. There it was, my Golden Globes fashion critique that came out the same day, marked up with her grades and comments. Just business as usual for Minnie, who continued bustling about her house, the scent of Bob Mackie trailing behind her. I read it with a smile and relief.

Before I left for good, Minnie told me she doesn't have many friends in Nevada. She wasn't lamenting the fact, just stating it, saying her own company satisfies her just fine. "I think my problem is that I like myself too much," she said.

That's not a problem, Minnie. That's a great image.