Matchmaking Then and Now
By far my most favorite aspect of this business venture is creating the scenes for Finder Not Keeper's landing page. These lifestyle shots are important -- they set the tone for the inventory and grab the attention of the visitor -- the equivalent of a brick and mortar window display. A good photograph will entice the web surfer to open the door.
For these images, I recruited a sleepy son for a model and an amiable husband to help move furniture and hang fabric panels along the patio. Then I raided the shop (my basement) for the cool Middle Eastern stuff that always attracts me.
I especially adore this vintage set of colorful Egyptian figurines (below). They live among my cookbooks and I enjoy playing match maker with them, pairing the short girl with the short boy, the tall boy with the tall boy, etc. Lately, the tall girl with the gorgeous hoop earrings has had strong opinions about my recommendations.
I get that. She's taller than everyone else, she is chic, she's good at make-up. She should be the one to decide who hangs out with her on the shelf.
Once, when I was in college, I came home for a weekend and my parents introduced me to a family friend who had recently arrived from Iran for a visit. Every time I encountered this woman in our kitchen, she would coo at me, complimenting my clothes, my hair, my eyelashes, which don't deserve compliments. I grew suspicious. Eventually my dad confided that she had come with the intent of finding a wife for her son. That I as the eldest daughter would be acceptable. "You mean like an arranged marriage?" I sputtered. Yes indeed. Naturally I laughed my impertinent ass off. This is America, and I had grown up watching Charlie's Angels and The Dating Game. For me, matchmaking consisted of fixing up my best friend with my boyfriend's roommate for a weekend camping trip. (Disastrous.)
My dad knew this and he too found the scenario amusing. That afternoon, he reminded me of Mr. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, who marries off two of five daughters in one day and then announces that if any more eligible men show up, he will be in his study. My parents did finally explain to their guest that they were raising their children with more modern traditions.
Fast forward twenty years. I am married with kids and we go to my parent's house for dinner one night. Also in attendance is a family similar to ours. The wife is smart, sarcastic about politics, and strict with her children. Just like me! The husband is kind, a good storyteller, patient with his children, and best of all, adores his wife. Just like my husband! He physically resembles my husband too, tall and handsome. Yet modest. Definitely my cup of tea.
So you know where this is going. Yup. He's the guy! He's the son of the woman who wanted me for a daughter-in-law. When that fact emerged, naturally I laughed my ass off. Then I paused and wondered. He was a devoted husband, a hands-on father, an excellent provider. And he was funny. Would I have been happy? Quite possibly.
Am I recommending arranged marriage? Ha! All I know is that I have four unmarried sons and like Mr. Bennett, I will be on my patio.