What I saw at the Timothée Chalamet Lookalike Contest

Miles Mitchell, the 21-year-old winner of Sunday's Timothée Chalamet Lookalike Contest at Mercer Playground.
Photo: Sinna Nasseri

It's 1:30 p.m. on Sunday, and I'm huffing and puffing down Greene Street, trying to keep up with a phalanx of pale, floppy-haired 20-something men vying for $50 and a Party City trophy. We're on our way to the second location of the Timothée Chalamet Lookalike Contest, which went viral last month after few promotional flyers for the event appeared downtown. Despite the lack of details — one Partiful event advertised the location as the “Washington Square Park Arch,” and none of the organizers would identify themselves — more than 2,500 people responded. On Sunday, there are at least five times as many in attendance – influencers, reporters and blonde Zoomers with curtain hairstyles, all clamoring to talk to a man dressed as Chalamet Wonka And Distribute Snickers bars.

Even before the event begins, it's clear that many attendees are just attending to get a date: the Partiful page filled with selfies and brooding thirst traps. “Some people really seem to be taking this event out of context,” said Reed Putman, a substitute teacher from upstate New York. “They think it's going to be a big meat market.” Spencer DeLorenzo, a 22-year-old from Long Island, tells me he entered the competition in hopes of getting a job in films. After posting his photo on the Partiful invitation, he was asked by a film company to act as Chalamet's double (although they turned him down when they learned he was 5'7″ compared to the 5'1″. big Chalamet).

DeLorenzo, who is single, says he became romantically interested because of his resemblance to the actor. A friend recently invited him to dinner so she could be seen with him in public, and he even signed an autograph as Chalamet when he was approached by a gaggle of girls during a recent trip to Italy. “If it wasn’t for him, I would just be a different guy,” he says. “I guess I have some kind of leverage if I look like this attractive celebrity.”

There are many women here looking for a Chalamet lookalike. Summer Mae Campbell, a 23-year-old actress and movie theater worker from New Jersey, wearing a cardigan and white lace tights, arrives with freshly printed business cards to hand out and encourages the single Timothées to email her. “It’s so rare that all of New York’s thin men are in one place,” she tells me. Somewhere, she says, a girl is walking around in a T-shirt that says “Timothées, please talk to me.”

However, once the event begins, it becomes clear that almost no one will have any significant social interaction with anyone, except perhaps being trampled. The crowd consists of tens of thousands of people, an army of slender arms holding iPhones, snaking upward in case Chalamet himself arrives. The only thing visible in the crowd is the Wonka impersonator's top hat. It's impossible to have a conversation without being interrupted by someone wanting to make a TikTok. The crowds are so great that New York City park rangers begin asking people to leave the area at 1:10 p.m., prompting a crowd of Chalamet lookalikes to lead a parade to Mercer Playground a few blocks away. On the way, I spot a group of lanky men dressed as 1964-era Dylan in front of NYU's Elmer Bobst Library, looking confused. (A Chalamet lookalike was reportedly arrested in the riot, although both our photo editor and I are too busy fighting for our lives on the way to the playground to witness this firsthand.)

Once people finally find their way to the new location, the event begins. The mystery organizer — who had previously identified himself only as “Gilbert” on Partiful’s event page — eventually turns out to be Anthony Po, aka AnthPo, a YouTuber who stages viral stunts like dressing up as Cheeseball Man, a masked orange superhero , who is famous for his food, buy 985 cheese balls in public or buy his friend 200,000 beans. The revelation that the entire YouTube channel competition was run by someone doesn't seem to be a disappointment to the audience, who cheer loudly when convincing Chalamet impersonators take the stage and boo when less credible ones appear. “He’s hot,” a girl enthuses behind me as a contestant walks over, “but he not Looks like Timothée.”

The audio quality is terrible and it's almost impossible to keep up with the competition. What I overhear from my vantage point on a park bench is Po asking the contestants a series of beauty pageant-style questions, such as whether or not they speak French and how they want to make the world a better place.

To avoid confusion about viewers' intentions, the competition includes a “speed dating” event in which potential Chalamet suitors – including Campbell, the girl who handed out business cards before the event – come on stage and, Bird, presenting paradise style to the participants. Timothées who are in a relationship are unceremoniously booed; However, individual Timothées are presented confidently. “Breaking News: Please welcome another Timothée to the stage Who isn't in a relationship?!” Po cheers before introducing a contestant who has come all the way from Australia (Spencer, the doppelganger, is also enthusiastically received by the audience, but arrives too late to qualify for the competition.)

The finalists include two Timothées: Zander Lueve, a 22-year-old from Atlanta, and 21-year-old Miles Mitchell, the Wonka impersonator. (When asked onstage what he would do to make the world a better place, Mitchell replies “Free Palestine” to relatively lukewarm cheers.) The crowd ultimately votes Mitchell as the winner, although Po reveals at the end, that each participant will receive $50; The men start jumping up and down, grabbing each other and chanting: “Day drinking! Day drinking!” Aside from my own fear of being trampled by girls in Mary Janes, it’s probably the most intense expression of emotion I experience all day. “We have a special kind of bond right now,” Dempsey Bobbitt, another Wonka impersonator, tells me excitedly. “So many Wonkas, so many Timmies. It's such a beautiful life.” A few meters away, another Timmy dressed as Bob Dylan plays a few bars on the harmonica.

“This event is so dubious!” Campbell enthuses. “I'm really glad it went well and no one got hurt, low key.” She enjoys the climax when she is asked out by two different Timothées: Spencer and Cal, the Australian who picks her out of the crowd for the speed dating round. She agrees to go on a date with Spencer, but is more interested in Cal. “I don’t want to scare him off,” she says when I encourage her to talk to him.

After I leave, I text Spencer, the doppelganger who was hoping to find love or work at the event but was too late to attend. He has a good reason for his late arrival: “I met Timothée Chalamet!” He texts me excitedly. As it turned out, Chalamet had shown up at Washington Square Park to take a few photos with doppelgangers before I quietly snuck away while I struggled to get a good look at the event at Mercer Playground. (He didn't show up at Mercer Playground to my knowledge; if he had, I honestly would have been worried about his safety.) “He said 'hi' and said I looked good,” Spencer says. “He was smiling and seemed to be living off the energy.” The competition, Spencer says, gave him a taste of what it's like to be Chalamet. “It must stink, I wouldn’t enjoy being chased all the time,” he writes. “That’s pretty much how it felt. Still, I’m happy to be noticed :)”