A conversation with a friend the other day recalled a memory from last summer that might well have remained dormant otherwise.

One meandering afternoon found me puttering around in a local antiques shop recommended by a casual acquaintance.  New Hampshire being home to some of the best and oldest antiques shops in all of New England, it’s always interesting to contemplate the past, possible uses for many of the obscure, now obsolete objects one comes across.  It’s also a bit of an adventure to hunt for some as-yet, undiscovered treasure.

On this particular afternoon, I happened to stumble upon the thoughtful looking portrait above and inevitably found myself wondering who it might have been.  Further, I wondered who might have use for it now and found it a bit depressing that it had fallen out of the hands of both family and friends, only to be impersonally discarded in a commercial shop.

I took a closer look at the tag in the lower right hand corner of the frame.

And saw this:

Chuckling in spite of myself, the picture of a bored clerk attempting to insert a bit of comic value into what was essentially an unsellable item came immediately to mind.  The shop manager, noting my apparent interest, wandered over to make an introduction.  I good-naturedly commented on the clever tag, right down to the ridiculously random $465 asking price.  Looking more than serious, she assured me that in fact this sort of thing was quite popular, and that indeed such “instant relatives” were currently very much in vogue.

Still feeling sure that the whole thing must be a gag,  I laughed in response, though this time a bit of uncertainty on my part insinuated itself into the situation.  By no means am I an expert in the world of antiques.  I merely know what appeals to me when I see it and being naturally curious, make every attempt to learn as much as possible about the things I appreciate and admire.  But this was too much to be believed.

After much to and fro about the matter, it became distressingly clear that the manager was speaking in earnest.  The portrait on display was in fact being marketed for the express purpose of deception.  This rather disturbing revelation brought about yet further questions.  The entire premise of such a purchase extended far beyond the occasional, innocuous white lie, wading treacherously into the dark waters of pathology. How to keep such an elaborate ruse going  – especially amongst close friends and family?  Would the portrait necessitate hurried banishment to a remote corner of the house upon the arrival of some unexpected, incredulous visitor?  Would some people have to be let in on the sham, while others were kept in the dark?  It all seemed completely bizarre and far too much trouble to go to.  I left the shop totally bewildered and had all but forgotten about the incident until the previously mentioned chance conversation brought it to mind.

Feeling perhaps a bit morbidly curious, inspiration struck earlier today to revisit that old antiques shop, despite the promise I’d made myself never to return.  An overwhelming desire to know what became of the old portrait had suddenly taken hold.   I walked into the shop and there is was – in precisely the same spot that it occupied nearly a year ago – though a slightly thicker layer of dust looked to have accumulated since then.  Immensely heartened, I turned to leave, having satisfied my curiosity.  So “instant relatives” are all the rage, are they? Stuff and nonsense! I hold to my original “comic value” theory.