Why fake heartthrobs are descending on your city this weekend
By Meg Watson
It began with a plague of Timothées. A mob of mop-headed waifs descended on New York’s Washington Square Park last month impersonating Timothée Chalamet to win a giant novelty $50 cheque, bragging rights, internet fame and possibly a date.
And since then, other major cities have fallen. A mass of Paul Mescals in Dublin. A crush of Harry Styles in London. A swarm of Dev Patels in San Francisco. A pack of Jeremy Allen Whites in Chicago.
Oscar, the winning contestant in a Harry Styles lookalike competition in London. Credit: Getty Images
Now, the phenomenon is hitting Melbourne and Sydney. On Saturday, a horde of Jacob Elordis will congregate outside the State Library of Victoria and a crew of Heath Ledgers will hit up Camperdown Memorial Rest Park.
The 23-year-old organiser of the Sydney event, who asked to be referred to as Patrick Verona (Ledger’s character in 10 Thing I Hate About You) until his identity is revealed on the day, promises an afternoon of “weird entertainment”. Contestants will be judged on their ability to sing Frankie Valli’s 1967 hit Can’t Take My Eyes Off You (another nod to 10 Things) and “look moody while holding a film camera” (Two Hands).
“There will be several components,” Verona says. “But obviously looking like Heath Ledger will be a plus for the Heath Ledger lookalike competition.”
What is happening?
Like many strange things in 2024, it started with an internet celebrity. The Chalamet competition was organised by Anthony Po, a 23-year-old YouTuber who drew a crowd of thousands to a New York park earlier this year when he promised to eat 700 cheese balls and made news around the world.
And while there’s certainly something cynical about organising a novelty event for online clout, the event itself seemed impossibly fun and wholesome.
Finalists Miles Mitchell, left and Zander Dueve, centre, shake hands at the Timothee Chalamet lookalike contest.Credit: AP
A heavy-set guy with a buzz cut was one of the top five Chalamets because he was such a hit with the crowd. Fans had business cards with their number on to pass to prospective dates.
And, in a recent explanatory video, Po said he’d been “struggling in life [and sometimes feel like] I suck at everything, then something like this happens and I love this city and I love people, and I’m so grateful”.
“I think there’s something that is organic and genuine about it,” Verona says, using his comedy pseudonym.
“I think it’s fun. I think it’s silly. It’s a little bit lame and trite. But like, everything is a bit weird and gross [in the world]. These sorts of silly, fun things definitely have a place.”
There’s also something charming about it being so rooted in the real world, he notes, pointing out that word is spread through crudely made street posters advertising a $50 prize (a tradition the local events have continued, with a QR code to sign up).
“I literally have no idea how it’s gonna go or how many people will turn up,” says Alicia Liang-Morgan, the 21-year-old music student behind the Melbourne event. “All I really want is just have a good event that makes people happy and escape a little bit,” she says.
“It’s a stupid contest trying to find a lookalike for a celebrity who doesn’t even know that it’s happening. It’d be nice just to have an hour or two where we are just stupid, as a community.”
How to pick the perfect heartthrob
The original string of lookalikes comprised a very similar type: Gen Z heartthrobs, relatively reserved and soft-spoken, and – of course – they’re all men.
“I think the lookalike contests allow men to be objectified and ogled in a kind of non-toxic way, which is fun,” Verona says, noting the majority of people who have RSVP’d are women. “I think if they were female lookalike contests it’s like a pageant, and it starts to feel like very misogynistic and gross.”
Liang-Morgan agrees: “Women would actually get hate, and that’s not fun … Society hates women who know they’re attractive and have self-love.”
There is, however, a Zendaya competition organised in her hometown of Oakland today.
Elordi and Ledger will be the first Australian lookalike subjects so far, and this local connection was important for both event organisers.
“I think he taps into a unique sort of Australian pride,” Verona says, speaking about Ledger. “He seemed like a really cool, admirable dude – and my God, is he good-looking … He has the kind of soft, twinky energy of Timothée Chalamet, but he could also protect you in a fight.”
Though Elordi was born in Brisbane, Liang-Morgan felt he was a good pick for Melbourne because it’s where he spent his teenage years.
“So many people have asked me if I was doing this to find a boyfriend,” she says. “But the ego on a man who thinks he looks like Jacob Elordi would be criminal.”
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