A little over a week ago, Robert Gatt was going about his usual day in his Port Fairy glassblowing studio when an unexpected email landed in his inbox. A stranger was asking for help getting in touch with another glass artist in the same small coastal Victorian town. The person said they had bought glassware from this artist but never received a receipt, and they hoped Gatt could act as a go-between. Gatt, who has been shaping molten glass in Port Fairy since 1993, felt a prickle of suspicion. “This sounds a bit scammy,” he thought, and he ignored it. But the strange request did not stop there. The very next day, someone telephoned his studio with a far more urgent and disturbing question: they were trying to track down a local glassblower named Eleanor Whitmore, because her husband had tragically died. Gatt was taken aback. Port Fairy is a tiny community of around three thousand people, and he knew of no such artist. “Well, I’m the only glassblower in Port Fairy and I’m not dead, and neither is my wife,” he told the caller. Over the following days, more messages and calls came in, all asking about the mysterious Eleanor Whitmore. Eventually, the truth emerged: she did not exist at all. The ABC, local artists, and an arts advocacy group could find no trace of her. The local shire checked electoral rolls and came up empty. What Gatt had stumbled into was not a simple case of mistaken identity but a carefully crafted, AI-powered online scam that had already fooled unsuspecting shoppers and was now using the real glassblower’s hometown as its backdrop.
The heart of the scam was a deceptive website that appeared to sell handmade sets of eight nautical-themed drinking glasses for $250, supposedly crafted by this nonexistent artisan. To make the fraud more convincing, the site was dressed up with an emotionally wrenching backstory: the fake artist had supposedly just lost her husband, and the tragedy was woven into the narrative to elicit sympathy and trust. AI-generated images showed a woman working with glass, along with pictures of the finished products, all designed to look authentic and appealing. But the entire story was fabricated. Gatt noted how sad it was, especially because the scam seemed to be targeting elderly people. Consumer Action Law Centre’s assistant director of policy and campaigns, Meg Dalling, explained that this was a classic example of a “ghost store.” These are fake retail websites, often built quickly using AI, that look completely legitimate on the surface but are created with the sole purpose of taking people’s money without ever delivering a real product. In this case, the ghost store hid behind the veneer of a bogus and heartbreaking tale, embellished with fake images. As Dalling put it, the website had “a very compelling, emotionally heart-rending story, but it’s actually all just fake.” For Gatt, who has spent decades building a genuine craft and a reputation rooted in real human connection, seeing his town and his art form used as bait for such a cruel deception was deeply unsettling.
Digging deeper into the operation revealed how sophisticated and widespread these scams have become. The website linked to a Hong Kong-based company that appeared to develop AI software, and sponsored ads for the fake store were spotted on Australian news websites, sitting alongside other suspicious offerings for AI-stock market bots, handmade chopping boards, and fat-loss schemes. Many of the thumbnails carried an AI label, though not all did, making it even harder for the average shopper to tell what was real. According to Dalling, most people who buy from a ghost store will receive nothing at all, while some might get a cheap imitation or a knock-off item that barely resembles what they ordered. The impact goes far beyond individual financial losses. Dalling stressed that digital platforms must do more to stop these advertisements from appearing on their websites in the first place. There is no single silver bullet, she said, but system-level change is essential, including new laws and a dedicated scams protection framework. “Individuals will never be able to tackle this,” she warned. She urged shoppers to be cautious and vigilant, looking for tell-tale warning signs like missing Australian Business Numbers or imagery that looks too perfect or obviously AI-generated. The Australian Competition and Consumer Commission has also weighed in, noting that consumer laws already prohibit misleading conduct and claims. Last year, the ACCC warned shoppers about ghost stores and asked companies like Shopify and Meta to investigate and take action against suspected operators. That effort led to more than a dozen ghost stores shutting down, but new ones keep appearing, adapting and evolving to avoid detection.
The harm caused by these fraudulent websites extends beyond the shoppers who lose money; it also tarnishes the reputation of genuine artists and the beautiful, authentic stories behind their work. Kate Gerritsen, communications and engagement director at Regional Arts Victoria, confirmed that her organisation had no record of any Port Fairy glassblower named Eleanor Whitmore. She explained that a bad experience with a fake website can easily discourage people from buying real artworks in the future. When people are deceived by cheap, AI-generated stories and images, it cheapens the meaningful background of actual makers—artists who are deeply connected to their land, their communities, and their craft. “It takes away from the real and beautiful stories, particularly in regional Victoria, about artists connecting to their country, and artists creating beautiful products for sale,” Gerritsen said. “People’s perceptions of what an artist is and what an artist creates could be tainted.” She also pointed to the broader problems AI has introduced, including issues around consent, attribution, and transparency for living artists. The fraudulent profiling of a nonexistent artist is yet another example of the harmful practices emerging from AI, she said. For Robert Gatt, this strange episode has reinforced his belief in the importance of personal connection in his work. He only allows online sales for customers who have previously visited his studio, and he has always operated on the philosophy that people want to buy a piece of the artist, not just a product. “We like to chat with our customers and explain what we’ve done,” he said. “I think the customer really enjoys that. It becomes a more personal thing; it’s not like going on Etsy and saying, ‘oh, that will do.’”
For people wanting to protect themselves from falling victim to these scams, the advice is clear and practical. First and foremost, be vigilant for AI-generated content when shopping online. Ghost stores often produce promotions that are almost too perfect-looking, with an excessive, overwrought backstory designed to manipulate emotions. Trust your gut: if something feels off, it probably is. Before making any payment, research the seller independently to see if they truly exist or if they are just fake entities trying to rob you. Look closely at the website’s domain name; a “.com” address instead of a “.com.au” is a red flag when the business claims to be located in Australia. Check whether the site provides an Australian Business Number or Australian Company Number. Examine the returns policy—if it points to an overseas warehouse rather than the location the store claims to ship from, that is another warning sign. Never make a payment to anyone you are not completely sure about. If you think you have been scammed, contact your bank immediately using their official public number, because you may be able to get a charge-back. And if you encounter a ghost store, report it to Scamwatch.gov.au so that others can be spared the same experience.
Ultimately, the saga of Eleanor Whitmore is a cautionary tale about the changing landscape of online fraud and the quiet damage it does to trust, community, and the arts. What makes it so chilling is how convincingly it mimics the warmth and authenticity of a small regional town. Port Fairy is a place where people know each other, where a glassblower’s studio is a destination for visitors seeking a personal memento, and where a tragic story would normally inspire sympathy and kindness. The scammers weaponised all of that. They stole not only money from vulnerable shoppers but also the sense of safety that comes from supporting local artisans. Robert Gatt, though caught up in the bizarre situation, said he did not expect his own business to suffer. “I don’t think I’m implicated at all, but you always worry,” he admitted. His worry is understandable, because even the most honest artist can be caught in the crossfire of a world where AI makes it easier than ever to manufacture falsehoods. The real defense is a combination of personal vigilance and systemic accountability. Shoppers must slow down, ask questions, and demand transparency. Platforms must take responsibility for the advertisements they host. And lawmakers must create stronger protections for consumers. But above all, stories like this remind us of the irreplaceable value of human connection—the simple act of meeting an artist, hearing their real story, and holding something truly handmade in your hands. No algorithm, no matter how clever, can replicate that. And no ghost store should be allowed to cast a shadow over it.