There is an idea of a Elim Garak; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am a tailor.
Having Garak as your uncle and your mom sends you to him to spend every waking moment with him for a week.
It would either be one of several outcomes ... either he's the weirdest relative you have, the scariest person you ever met or one of the coolest people you'll ever know.