I Went To NYC’s Jeremy Allen White Look-Alike Contest To Find A Man

The Timothée Chalamet look-alike contest was my dress rehearsal. My practice run.

On Oct. 27, I strolled into Washington Square Park in New York City, naively expecting my future husband to be lined up amongst other Timmy dupes, served to me on a silver platter. Instead, I was greeted by a mob of 10,000 girls and gays, more than one police appearance, an actual Timmy sighting, and pure and utter chaos. Without a detailed game plan or an ounce of stamina, one thing was clear: I was not going to find my husband in those conditions.

When I learned of a Jeremy Allen White look-alike contest in the same location on Nov. 17 — as advertised by a poster that went viral on X — I knew it was my opportunity for redemption. The rodent men of NYC would again congregate for me, and this time, I would come prepared. I made a deal with myself: I would push my way to the front, not lingering on the sidelines as I did for the Timmys. I would make myself known.

As I strutted into the park on Sunday afternoon with my head held high, I expected to be greeted with tattooed white boys and huge crowds, especially considering the virality of the Chicago contest the day before, where more than 50 Jeremy Allen White look-alikes showed up. Instead, I was met with something else: crickets. Ten minutes before the competition was set to commence, and I was practically alone under the arch — other than a few photographers and 34-year-old Elodie, a Jeremy look-alike who had flown in from Los Angeles for the occasion. I hoped for both of our sakes that more folks would show up, so neither her six-hour flight or my pre-event pep talk would be in vain.

Sure enough, Cupid heard my cries. As the clock struck 1 p.m., nine blue-aproned bombshells entered the villa (which seemed to be an aesthetic the contestants all chose separately, since dressing as Carmy from The Bear wasn’t a stated requirement). Instead of a mob forming, around 70 to 80 folks lingered around chatting with the Jeremys, as they shook hands and shared cigarettes. I should have known that the Jeremy Allen White look-alike contest would be so Jeremy-esque: low-key, nonchalant, and most of all, demure.

There was really no competition aspect to this meetup, and no organizer in sight, which meant the winner wouldn’t be getting the two packs of cigarettes and seven-day Metrocard as advertised. The Jeremy dupes simply stood in a line, hands clasped atop their aprons, on display as if we were at a museum. They posed for photos and mingled with their fans while generously chanting “Yes, chef!” on command.

Although the vibes of this gathering were more relaxed than I anticipated, I couldn’t take my eye off the ball — I was here to find a man. The first Jeremy I approached, 26-year-old Jamie, had it all: a fitted white T-shirt, shaggy blond hair, and… a girlfriend. (Luckily, she was an absolute gem who encouraged me and other admirers to “Get that bag, girl. It’s nice to window shop.”)

Window shop we did, as tens of gals scoped out the market. Abby, 23, came prepared with a “Yes Daddy Chef” sign, as her pal Maude emphasized that when it comes to men, “the dirtier, the grimier, the better.” 20-year-old Pritika arrived as a journalist for The New School Free Press, but her side hustle was all about the eye candy. “I love slightly medium-ugly men,” she told me. There was no denying it: The girls were ready to mingle. But were the Jeremys here for love? I needed answers, so I did the only thing I knew how: embarrassed myself by being loud and socially unaware.

I walked up to the line of look-alikes, took three deep breaths, and yelled, “Raise your hand if you’re single!” Five hands reached for the sky. Out of those five, one was certainly under 18 (no thank you), one had braces (no shade, just not for me), and two were shorter than me (I’m 5-foot-3). But there was one man left, and luck have it, he was just my type.

At face value, 23-year-old Nico had the makings of my perfect match. He was a scruffy boy with a New York accent who looked like a distant cousin of Jeremy Allen White — similar features but not an exact replica. “Are you looking for a love connection?” I asked him. “You know, whatever the Lord has in store,” he replied. “Whatever God has in his plans, let His will be done.” I stared at his blankly, speechless for the first time in my life, so he kept going. “I’m Christian, so I’m looking for a woman of faith and someone that I can grow in my relationship with God together.”

I’m Jewish, and I literally write about my sexscapades for a living. I know there is a gorgeous, God-fearing woman out there who is perfect for Nico — but that woman is not me. I offered some vague remarks along the lines of “Wow, this got deep” before politely skirting out of there.

There was no official beginning or end to the competition, and no winner was ever named. The Jeremys smoked cigarettes and shook hands before sauntering off with their girlfriends (boo) or friends (acceptable). It was hard to not feel defeated. First Timothée, now this? Would I never find a scrawny man to call my own?

I think it’s time I take matters into my own hands and host my own look-alike competition. Take this as my official announcement: Paul Mescal Look-Alike Competition. Dec. 1. 11 p.m. My bedroom. DM for address details. XOXO.