On November 17, a row of fair-haired, large-nosed men and women, all who bore a passing resemblance to the actor Jeremy Allen White—if they had any resemblance to him at all—stood in a row underneath Washington Square Park’s arch, waiting to be judged. A small crowd watched the seven or so Allen Whites puff away on prop cigarettes.
Over the past month, celebrity lookalike contests have become the new flash mob—Internet humor brought offline and exposed to the elements. It was kicked off by a viral Timothée Chalamet lookalike contest held in Washington Square Park in late October. (The real Chalamet showed up.) Since then, there’s been a Zayn Malik lookalike contest in Bushwick, a Harry Styles one in London, a Paul Mescal event in Dublin, and Dev Patel in San Francisco. Prizes have ranged from $50 to a pack of cigarettes. While a YouTuber named Anthony Po created the Chalamet contest, the rest have been organized by different people. All of them start as physical flyers that are then disseminated online.
Dressed as Willy Wonka, Miles Mitchell, a 21-year-old from Staten Island, won the Timothée Chalamet lookalike contest.
Oscar Journeaux, a 22-year-old musician, won the Harry Styles lookalike contest in London. The real Styles didn’t make an appearance.
Juliette Millet, an elated 24-year-old, detailed her Saturday to me at the Allen White contest. She had to leave in half an hour to make the 2 p.m. Jack Schlossberg lookalike event in Central Park. “You know,” she told me, “…the Vogue columnist.” Many women have been transparent about using these contests as a way to find a boyfriend that looks like their favorite heartthrob. Sommer Mae Campbell, 24, arrived at the Chalamet contest with business cards to give to the most handsome off-brand Chalamets.
At the Allen White contest, the organizer didn’t even seem to be on hand—or at least I couldn’t find him. The man who rallied the crowd to vote, who identified himself by his Instagram handle, @huge_deal, told me he was just a bystander who stepped up. “We’re all judging here,” he quipped.
About 60 Jeremy Allen White lookalikes went to the Chicago contest on November 16. Ben Shabad prevailed as the winner.
In Dublin, Jack Wall O’Reilly recited Paul Mescal’s lines from the TV show Normal People before winning the contest.
Gaby Gerarro, 23, was one of the few female contenders. I asked her why she thought these contests were so popular, and she mentioned the Chalamet cameo. “We have to have them because maybe the celebrities will show up,” she said, as if they were offering up replicas for a visitation from a deity.
At the Allen White contest, a winner was crowned, though he didn’t even seem to realize it. (“Maybe, I don’t know, I guess so,” said the winner, a 28-year-old named Andrew, about his triumph). The prize, two packs of cigarettes and a seven-day MetroCard, was technically claimed—though it seemed nobody was on hand to actually deliver the goods. Maybe the excitement had waned. The day before, a different Allen White lookalike contest took place in Chicago, with a much larger turnout.
In the next few weeks, there are already contests planned for Zendaya lookalikes, Josh O’Connor lookalikes, and even John F. Kennedy lookalikes. Before then, it’s possible the lookalikes will fare the same fate as the flash mob: emerge quickly, burn out quickly. How many celebrities can we imitate until we get bored of the trend? At a certain point, all these lookalike contests start looking the same.
