The curious interest, the thinly-veiled stare, the hesitation, the pointing, the whispering – and then the ask, rather the tell: “You’re ____, aren’t you.” A shy, yet gushing smile.

Marietta Harley, for one. In her case, I think it was something about the impertinent attitude as well as the looks. Mistaken identity or doppelgänger? In the eye of the beholder, I enjoyed the mistakes.

Watch this to determine for yourself: w

I happily signed an arrogant yuppie dude’s cocktail napkin on an airline flight, after he insisted/demanded that I was her. Ha, did he buy me that drink, likely a free airline Coke? I don’t recall and I no longer care. I relented to his pride and prejudice. Oh, what fun! Thankfully my husband’s honesty, and/or potential jealousy, didn’t prevail

Then, there was Marion Ross, Richie Cunningham’s ‘Happy Days’ mom:

This man’s miscalculation and mandate came in the front tables of a dinner show. When I pointed out that my hair wasn’t styled in a French roll (I never had that much hair and my natural color was more strawberry blonde), he never minded. Why should I care? I grabbed a pen and signed  😉 My husband winked, clearly loving being in on the subterfuge, the joke.

I clearly recall the day the young man behind the counter – at the Genius bar, mind you – mistook my appearance and mannerisms for his mother. I was neither whining or imperious, but assuredly genuine to the genius, and he gave me a replacement laptop, free of charge.

Such coincidences occur less often, now that there are more wrinkles and white is crowding out the strawberry in my hair. I wistfully lap up the benefits of looking like counter personnel’s mama, even grandma.

Sometimes age – and look-alike serendipity – has benefits. 😉