The Truth Behind Those "Handcrafted" Leather Bags and Watches: How AI, Actors, and Cheap Goods Are Fooling Shoppers Online

The Truth Behind Those 'Handcrafted' Leather Bags and Watches

Written by Massa Medi

A few weeks ago, my social media feeds started bombarding me with ads for a company called Grace Bags. You know the vibe: a heartwarming tale of Grace, an elderly, kind-hearted woman who has apparently spent decades painstakingly handcrafting beautiful leather bags with old-world skill and a generous application of love. But now, so the story goes, it’s the “end of an era.” Grace is hosting a “farewell sale”—up to 80% off! Once they’re gone, they’re gone forever. Don’t miss out!

I’ll be honest: My initial reaction was, “Aww, that’s sweet.” But then I kept scrolling. The ads, though, kept resurfacing, almost desperate to lure me back. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me. Maybe I should have a look. But as I pondered, my inner skeptic piped up: “Wait. Is Grace even a real person?”

Is Grace Real? The AI Discovery

To test my hunch, I took the photo of “Grace” from the ad and uploaded it to siteengine.com—a handy tool designed to detect images generated by AI. The verdict? Grace’s picture was AI-generated. Fan-freaking-tastic. Apparently, Grace isn’t real at all. So, uh, if Grace isn’t lovingly stitching bags in her sun-drenched workroom, who actually is?

The plot thickened with all those glowing customer testimonials. People weren’t just happy; they were ecstatic over these bags. “These are pieces to keep forever.” “Grace and her husband have spent more than 30 years perfecting these heirlooms.” “Every bag is packed with decades of love.” Who gets this emotionally invested in a purse?

The Unmasking: Actors Behind the Reviews

Time to do some digging. I used PIM Eyes, a facial recognition tool that scans faces and reveals where else they appear online. And, look at that—one of the supposed “devoted customers” has also been seen in a hair loss reversal ad. Oh, and touting an LED High Bay Light. Turns out he’s not just a fan of bags—he’s a professional actor on Fiverr. “I’m a professional spokesperson and actor with decades of experience,” his Fiverr profile beams.

Maybe just a coincidence, right? So I checked another “satisfied customer,” this time waxing poetic about how Grace’s bags remind him of his grandma’s love. Lo and behold, he’s got a Fiverr gig too. “I have been an actor for 20 years, appeared in many movies, TV shows, and hundreds of TV commercials,” he proclaims.

Diving deeper, I discovered Grace Bags even has a YouTube channel packed with more testimonials. Each video seemed almost comically unedited—actors awkwardly reading their scripts, barely concealing that they’ve never touched a Grace Bag in their life. The same faces from Fiverr, the same story in every video, but always a lot of emotion for a $40 handbag.

So, after uncovering a web of fake testimonials and AI trickery, the question remained: What do actual customers receive when they order from Grace Bags? It turns out, the only thing authentic is their disappointment. Those “luxury” leather goods? Just cheap vinyl knockoffs, straight from factories in China.

The Proliferation of “Farewell Sales”: Meet the Clone Businesses

Here’s where it gets wild. Suddenly, it’s Susan’s Bags having a final sale. Then Victoria’s Bags. Paul Richards. Even Tanner Shoes! Each beloved “elderly artisan” is coincidentally wrapping up a storied career and holding a momentous Going-Out-of-Business sale, all at the same time.

Repeatedly, the sales pitch is identical: “Once they’re gone, they’re gone for good.” (Or “gone forever.” Or “gone until the next viral ad.”)

Curious, I visited their Facebook business pages. Under “About,” the Page Transparency feature revealed these pages were managed from disparate corners of the globe: the Netherlands, Vietnam, Indonesia—not the cozy U.S. workshops they claimed. The web of deception was well and truly global.

Enter Henry, the Master Watchmaker (Or Is He?)

Just when I’d seen enough fake bag artisans, a new ad appeared: Henry’s Watches. In a heartfelt message, “Henry” explained he’s been crafting watches by hand for 33 years. The ad was laced with bittersweet nostalgia: he’s stepping away to spend more time with his grandchildren, and now, with a heavy heart, he’s holding a final sale.

But the details didn’t add up. For one, Henry’s hand in the photos looks... suspiciously AI-generated—with anatomical oddities that no real artisan would have. And if Henry’s been in the watch business for 33 years, why does his website domain show it was registered just a month ago? The photos on the website depict Henry looking oddly different in each shot—a telltale sign of AI-image generation.

A quick look under Facebook’s Ad Library showed ad after ad after ad running for Henry’s watches, all echoing the same themes of legacy, craftsmanship, and teary-eyed farewells. Meanwhile, Facebook comments under the ads overflowed with praise for Henry’s “timeless masterpieces.”

The Grand Experiment: $1 vs. $40 Watches

My investigative curiosity had officially been piqued. I decided to test just how exclusive these watches were. Here’s what I did:

  1. Screenshot Comparison: I took product images from Henry’s website and ran a reverse image search. Surprise! The exact same watch is selling for 99¢ on AliExpress.
  2. Purchase Time: I bought the $1 “bargain bin” watch from AliExpress—no shipping fees, just pocket change. Then, for comparison, I bought “Henry’s” watch for $40 (supposedly marked down from $200, so a “steal”).
  3. Protecting my data: Not wanting to share my real email with these mystery sites, I used Aura (the sponsor of the original video), a comprehensive online protection service. With Aura’s email alias feature, I received order confirmations safely, while also using Aura’s password manager, dark web monitoring, and more.

In just five days, the AliExpress watch arrived. Honestly, I was stunned: $1, shipped from China in less than a week. Credit where it’s due, that’s some logistical magic. As expected, though, the watch felt ultra-light, the strap couldn’t be adjusted, and the overall build screamed “cheap, mass-produced plastic.”

Henry’s watch took longer to arrive—moving from one “sort facility” to another, finally landing in Los Angeles, before arriving at my door. This is odd: if Henry’s workshop is in America, why did my package clearly ship from overseas?

When I unboxed the watch, I was (not) astonished to discover it was, in fact, the exact same watch as the $1 AliExpress special. Not just similar—identical in every way. I’d paid 40 times more for a product that cost less than my morning coffee.

The "Handcrafted" Illusion—Exposed!

Despite the websites’ poetic claims—“Why settle for something mass-produced when you can own a watch with true character?”—the reality was clear. It’s mass-produced junk, drop-shipped from China, dressed up in an AI-generated brand identity.

Just to really drive the point home, I caught another “customer” testimonial on Henry’s website, this time from a man who first introduces himself as Dan—then as Dave. Turns out he, too, is a Fiverr actor, just reading whatever script is placed in front of him for a few bucks.

And if you dig into the manufacturer, “Henry’s” watches are actually made by Deiros—a company based in China. Someone simply bulk-ordered plain watches from Alibaba, whipped up a quick website, created some AI images of “Henry,” and then hired Fiverr actors to spin tales of lifelong discovery and emotional fulfillment.

Bulk Orders, Fake Customer Service, and Trustpilot Theater

Out of curiosity, I emailed “Henry” directly asking if I could buy 50 watches for employee gifts—and whether he could give me a bulk discount. His response was formal and attentive, promising to check inventory and offer the best possible price.

A few days later he got back to me: 50 watches for $1,399—that’s $27.89 each. What a deal. Nearly 30 times the AliExpress price!

I pushed further, asking if “handcrafting” actually meant better quality, and mentioning I’d spotted a nearly identical model elsewhere. After that, all communication stopped. Maybe Henry’s too busy with his grandkids?

Not quite ready to give up, I left a review on Trustpilot, outlining my AliExpress and Henry’s side-by-side comparison and Henry’s dodged explanations. Henry (or someone pretending to be him) did reply—apologizing and asking to resolve things privately, while making sure their answer was visible for others to see. Classic “customer service theater.” Frankly, the entire Trustpilot page looked filled with manufactured reviews by the same actors hired for testimonials.

The Real Story: How Easy Is It To Fake Artisanal Businesses?

Here’s the kicker: it takes almost no effort to start an online business wrapped in nostalgia and artisanal charm, complete with AI-generated founders, manufactured testimonials, and mass-produced goods. In the video, I spent just ten minutes creating my own satirical brand with Grok—prompting it for photos of me “working in a watch factory,” then ordering bulk watches from Alibaba, jazzing up the narrative, and there you have it:

“Discover timeless elegance with Ben’s Watches. The finest handcrafted timepieces you can own. Built with passion, precision, and premium materials. Ben’s Watches: Where craftsmanship meets class. Available now…but not for long! Visit bendoverwatches.com and get a piece of history today.”

(Just kidding—please don’t actually do that. Shop smartly and critically!)

Final Thoughts: Staying Safe and Savvy Online

The point of all this? To give you, the would-be conscientious customer, a clear-eyed look at what you’re up against—and to help you shop responsibly and think critically online.

I hope sharing this investigation helps you dodge the next drop-shipped “handcrafted legacy” scam. Shop wisely, ask questions, and don’t be fooled by AI-generated nostalgia. Until next time!