Send In The Clones: Why Lookalike Contests Are Thriving In A World Gone To Shit

Send In The Clones: Why Lookalike Contests Are Thriving In A World Gone To Shit

By Chloé Laight

Since October, lookalike competitions have been popping up the world over ever since my new hero (thank you, Anthony Po) organised the Timmy twin off. Using old-school fly posting around NYC, they had $50 and a dream - asking anyone resembling Timothée Chalamet to meet in Washington Square Park. And thousands did (minus one for an arrest).?

But what happened next was something even Club Chalamet couldn't predict - ‘Lil Timmy Tim showed up. Parting the crowd like the true Lisan al Gaib and initiating a domino effect - a Harry Styles in London, Dev Patel in San Francisco, Zendaya in Oakland, Jeremy Allen White in Chicago and a Barry Keoghan set for this weekend in LA.?

Dev’s dupe with his $50 prize

Like many internet crazes, these fads tend to go on way after their sell-by date and end up fizzling out in a depressing whimper attended by almost no one. But honestly: this is a fad I hope keeps on fadding for years to come.?

Lookalike wrangler Po said that by plastering the promo around the city, he was trying to “create a fun, positive video in contrast to the negativity he sees on the internet” so it can’t be any coincidence that it started just after Trump got elected. Look, you don’t need reminding that we’re living in rock-bottom times: the world is going to pot, the cost of living is rising, and there’s a constant threat of World War 3 by the bored, angry men in charge. So, is it any wonder that people are taking time out of doom-scrolling to enjoy something more wholesome and low-stakes for once? I know I’d rather wake up and see who thinks they look like Zayn Malik, than hell unleashing on Earth.??

With that in mind, when we heard that iconic Hoxton boozer, Howl At The Moon, was hosting their own Paul Mescal-alike contest, we couldn’t resist trundling over in the name of research.

The honing beacon for all East London girlies

The Irish pub created Mescal-ita cocktails for the occasion, had limited-edition spice bags and of course, free mullet cutting for mid-comp touch-ups, lifesize cardboard cutouts, a tattooist for Paul-inspired tats, and Normal People playing on loop.?

Despite all this, we weren’t sure many lookalikes would turn up. But we were wrong. So very wrong. Paul after Paul came. Each donned in vintage 3-5 inch inseam running shorts, wired headphones, running shoes and more hoop earrings you could shake a hurling stick at. The crowd, like-minded and internet-addled, was full of people wanting a knock-off boyfriend, and the big brave strong boys lined up like lambs to the slaughter to take part.

The Paul haul

Whether you were there as an observer or partaker, the cost was minimal - or at least - minimal for a night out in East London and the vibes were immaculate. After splitting the G and doing their best Irish brogue, the crowd crowned a Paul and the people’s princess won a Lidl voucher and a chance to turn on the Christmas lights, which he declared “wasn’t the only thing [he] was turning on that night”. Cue a flurry of interviews and even a BBC news feature.

The one Paul to rule them all

For about four days after, it was the only thing I saw on my FYP, the only thing I talked to my friends about, and the only thing people were DMing me about, asking where the fuck I was. And, considering that this trend started on the internet, and is fuelled by its ability to go viral, this IRL moment felt really hopeful - a real sense of communal joy through finding a fan community to join.?

There were no trolls, no negative comments and no word on the world ending, which is always a plus. Not “just a bit of fun” it turns out, but it acted as a place to escape all the shit outside your front door and at your fingertips - and identifying who was the closest Paul felt quite comforting in a world of chaos and uncertainty. Undoubtedly helped by the 2 for £12 cocktails.?

The fact that so many people were willing to come together to celebrate the absurdity of it, in the end, it didn’t even matter that the real Paul was nowhere to be seen. After all, there are Paul’s everywhere for those with the eyes to see.?

See you in LA for the Barry one, then.?

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