We all like to believe that we have a celebrity lookalike: someone who is recognizably beautiful and simultaneously looks a bit like us. In the past, we’ve seen this phenomenon manifest in different ways online. Ariana Grande impersonator Paige Niemann (now banned from TikTok) and Taylor Swift impersonator Ashley (@noitisashley13) garnered controversy online for portrayals of the pop icons that many observers considered bordering on obsessive or creepy. In another example, filters have popped up that attempt to match your facial features to that of a celebrity who looks like you. This phenomenon exists offline also. Celebrity impersonation has been one way for many performers to make a living for years (think of that time Adele disguised herself amongst a group of her own impersonators). This has been a common genre of performance for drag queens also – Derrick Barry as Britney Spears, for example.
The celebrity lookalike competitions that have emerged around the world are just the latest iteration of this trend. It began with a Timothy Chalamet lookalike competition in New York on the 27th October, at which 21-year-old Miles Mitchel won the $50 prize that was up for grabs. Now, just over a month later, this trend has exploded across the globe. Similar competitions sought look-alikes for Paul Mescal, Harry Styles, Dev Patel, Jeremy Allen White, Zayn Malik, Zendaya, Jacob Elordi, Glen Powell and, only three days ago, Tom Holland.
Why have these competitions exploded in this way? Partly, as I have mentioned, these competitions capitalize on an existing trend. It has not been uncommon for people to make money off a chance resemblance to a celebrity. The contestants competing here, however, aim for a relatively low stakes prize and generally do not aim to capitalize on their win in any significant way. Miles Mitchell has just over 7000 followers on TikTok, and most of his content does not feature mention of his famous doppelganger. These competitions are not presenting any major opportunity for global fame or virality. Erin Meyers, speaking to NPR, says how these present opportunities for public gatherings that are simple, light and fun.
“They’re not a protest. They’re not an election rally. They’re not things that have been kind of contentious lately. They’re around something that’s a little more fun and they’re very grassroots.’
These competitions are clearly very gendered, however. With the exception of the Zendaya look-alike competition, all these competitions have been centred around male celebrities and their male lookalikes. We could attribute this to a male desire to be seen and judged as attractive on an official platform, particularly in a society where low self-esteem in men enables the rise of figures like Andrew Tate. We could also attribute this to the female fans who are more interested in promoting lookalikes of their favourite ‘heart throbs’ than their heterosexual male counterparts. It is clear that the internet attention these contests are garnering have a sexualised aspect. On a video about the Zayn Malik competition, a comment with 86 thousand likes suggested a ‘Zayn Malik lookalike contest in my room’.
Simu Liu posted a TikTok two days ago that asked the question ‘wondering if we’re collectively ready for a lookalike contest of an Asian person’. He brings to light another important consideration. The competitions generally highlight the ‘white boy of the month’, celebrities of colour generally not receiving the same attention and virality. While it appears, as Erin Meyers would argue, that these events are ‘a little more fun’, more light than the political storm we have been surrounded by recently, even these grassroots phenomena suffer when looked at under a critical lens. I love the communal spirit these competitions are able to summon. Equally, I can’t help but feel that the idea that they help us to ‘escape from politics’ is an unhelpful one. Especially when they are helping to enforce ideas and standards that are so clearly political in nature.