It seemed wise to arrive early to DC’s John F. Kennedy Jr. lookalike contest on Sunday: The event had logged nearly 900 RSVPs by the morning, probably because organizers promised to trot out doppelgängers of one of the most attractive men to ever live. But just after 3 PM, an hour before the cont est was slated to begin, the tables at Logan Circle’s Barrel House had already been claimed by throngs of starry-eyed spectators—mostly young ladies on this International Women’s Day, some donning slim oval-framed sunglasses and throwback headbands in a nod to Kennedy’s wife, Calvin Klein publicist Carolyn Bessette. There were not yet any John-Johns in sight. It has been more than a year since lookalike contests began to dot our culture, driving knockoff Timothée Chalamets, Jeremy Allen Whites, and Paul Mescals to city parks across the US and Europe. Thanks to a recent deluge of hot guys gracing our TV screens, the trend is enjoying a bit of a resurgence: Heated Rivalry stars Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams have inspired a few competitions, including one at the Anthem this past weekend. In the fall of 2024, hoards of hungry singles descended on Meridian Hill Park for DC’s Jack Schlossberg lookalike contest; once again, our celebrity paragon of choice is a John F. Kennedy descendant who actually lived in New York. If I were Jon Bernthal, I might feel a little skipped-over. Perhaps no masculine ideal wields more power than JFK Jr., the ill-fated First Son and George magazine editor whose tumultuous relationship with Bessette is currently being chronicled semi-fictionally in the limited Ryan Murphy series Love Story, which is three-quarters of the way through a nine-episode run on FX. The show is a reminder that Murphy maybe should have stopped making television after Glee—viewers can’t laugh or get comfortable because we already know the calamitous end, and each character inevitably feels like a sort of heinous caricature of their historical counterpart. But the actors are hot and the outfits are great, so I have been tuning in weekly. Contest organizers Lucy Nuñez and Tess Emiroglu confirm that their event was spurred by the show’s popularity. As has been the case for many of Murphy’s loose biopics, which feature somewhat glamorous depictions of figures including Jeffrey Dahmer and the Menendez brothers, Love Story has drawn ire from people close to the real-life subjects. Actress Daryl Hannah, who dated Kennedy for several years before he married Bessette, slammed her portrayal in the series as “irritating, self-absorbed, whiny and inappropriate” in a New York Times op-ed last week. Schlossberg, Kennedy’s nephew and a candidate to represent New York City’s 12th congressional district, eviscerated Murphy in a recent CBS This Morning interview. “If you want to know someone who’s never met anyone in my family, knows nothing about us, talk to Ryan Murphy,” he said. “The guy knows nothing about what he’s talking about, and he’s making a ton of money on a grotesque display of someone else’s life.” Mingling with the air of controversy at the event is the solemn reality that the man we all came here to adore has been dead since 1999, when he crashed his plane off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard with Bessette and her sister Lauren on board. There’s a sense among the crowd that they just don’t make them like that anymore—and if they ever did, we wouldn’t really know. “The generation that’s here—we were toddlers when he died,” says Grace, age 31, who has just spilled an espresso martini on herself. “Really, it’s a JFK-in-Love Story lookalike contest.” Paul Anthony Kelly, the 37-year-old model who made his professional acting debut with his portrayal of Kennedy in Murphy’s series, is a pretty near ringer: impossibly handsome, broad-shouldered and hulk-jawed. But even he doesn’t quite look like Kennedy—he’s too airbrushed, too tidy, perhaps too Canadian. In fact, the aesthetic task at hand today is a uniquely heavy lift. In the days leading up to the event, Nuñez and Emiroglu had secured only ten contestants. Nuñez, a local matchmaker, made impassioned pleas on her TikTok page for more “men and masc lesbians” to enter the race and carried out tactical recruitment efforts on Capitol Hill and at a recent HYROX fitness competition. (I wondered whether Daniel Bonomo, the victor of the Schlossberg lookalike contest, would show up to make a repeat bid for the Kennedy crown—he didn’t.) Half an hour before the face-off is scheduled, the hosts take the mic to inform viewers that previously unannounced contenders are still welcome to register. “I did this partially in the hopes that it would draw out the men,” Nuñez tells me. “In reality, it has drawn out the most beautiful crowd of women.” Katie, right, convinced her husband Chaz to compete. Photo by Kate Corliss. Lookalikes have started to trickle in. “He’s here against his will,” says Katie of her 31-year-old husband, Chaz. “I saw that they only had less than ten contestants, and I was like, ‘Well, you don’t not look like him.’” The couple is attracting some iPhone cameras, their outfits expertly channeling Kennedy and Bessette—Chaz in a cable-knit sweater with a backwards Yankees cap, Katie in bike shorts and an oversized red Ralph Lauren jacket. Fashion is playing a pivotal role this afternoon. While the genetic lottery is not inclined to dole out Kennedy-esque faces to us common folk, his style is surely replicable: Contestants are identifiable in dark sunglasses and wool berets. One hopeful is an actual dog, whose blond fur could be grounds for disqualification. But he is wearing a suit. “Well, his name is Junior,” says his owner, Eric. Junior, left, who vied for the crown despite being a dog. Photo by Kate Corliss. The fact that Kennedy is no longer with us should alleviate some “fear” among the contestants, suggests 26-year-old Riley, who recalls when Chalamet showed up to the search for his lookalike in New York. “This is what DC people actually want to see,” she says. “Hot old political figures.” She predicts that someday, DC will be home to the inaugural Joe Biden lookalike contest—not to summon “old Joe Biden” but rather hot Joe Biden as he appears in that famous 1960s-era photograph from his days as a law student, clad in a burgundy button-down with a full head of hair. As the hour approaches 4 PM, the competition’s scheduled start time, observers depart from the gorgeous weather on the patio and wend their way into the shadows of the indoor cafe. The crowd quickly grows shoulder-to-shoulder and a little cutthroat. “It’s like we’re trying for barricade at a One Direction concert,” says my friend Ali. I squeeze past a pair of women in an effort to get a photo of the contestants, who are convening at the front of the room. “Where exactly are you trying to go?” one snaps. The tension turns out to be premature—it seems the organizers are still rounding up some more competitors. Ali and I spend the downtime consoling her boyfriend, Nico, who believed until moments ago that he was going to an RFK Jr. lookalike contest. We fantasize about what such an event might have been like—snug jeans, spray tans, a victory lap in Rock Creek. We ask Nuñez if that idea has any merit. “I don’t think so,” she says. “I think JFK Jr. represents a brand of masculinity that women really want and that society really needs—a brand of masculinity that values education, sensitivity, emotional awareness, cultural awareness. People don’t just like him for his face.” It’s another 45 minutes before the show actually gets on the road. “We’re not going to be totally vapid,” says Emiroglu through a glitchy microphone. “JFK Jr. was way ahead of his time. He understood the importance of connecting politics to pop culture, and started George magazine to engage people in new ways. He also was passionate about political and social issues and started a program called Reaching Up that was meant to support people who are workers and caretakers for people with disabilities.” She and Nuñez will make a donation to the Caregiver Action Network, a nonprofit aligned with that mission. With that bummer out of the way, Emiroglu concludes, “Let’s keep it light.” Keep it light, we did. The hosts pull the contestants on stage in rapid succession, to uproarious screams from the audience. We have a handful of women—most wear their long hair loose underneath backwards newsboy caps and baseball hats. There are a number of white guys who look absolutely nothing like Kennedy but threw on a tie and a pair of sunglasses and called it a day. A couple of the contenders seem like viable options, especially 25-year-old Matthew Orgera, a local real-estate agent who swaggered into the spotlight with his beret pulled down and his chest hair exposed. The top five finalists. From left to right: Chaz, Darren, Matthew, Junior, and Margaret. Photo by Kate Corliss. The crowd is instructed to part so the candidates can take a lap over to the overflow space on the patio. When they return, Nuñez and Emiroglu rely on the volume of the audience’s applause to narrow the 15-person competition pool down to a top five. Matthew makes the cut, as does Chaz, who one must assume is now grateful that his wife forced him to be here. Also onstage: Darren, who is dressed underwhelmingly in a white T-shirt but possesses a persuasive mop of jet-black curls, and Margaret, who boldly leans into Kennedy’s “lovable ham” persona with her baggy suit and makeshift sideburns. Rounding out these favored few is Junior the dog, who frankly gets the most energy out of the crowd but inexplicably does not win. Matthew Orgera, age 25, DC’s bonafide JFK Jr. lookalike. Photo by Kate Corliss. It is Matthew who ultimately emerges as the man of the hour, our city’s loudest whisper of a Kennedy. He is pleasantly surprised by his win. “I kind of set the expectations low for myself,” he admits when I corner him after the crowd disperses. To the relief of the many singles who linger after the contest to flirt with the contestants—and unlike Bonomo, DC’s honorary Schlossberg—he is on the market. “I’m looking for someone that is driven and likes to have a good time,” he tells me, criteria that perhaps led the real Kennedy to the real Bessette all those years ago. Less like Kennedy, Matthew plans to use his $50 prize to pay off his credit card.The post We Went to DC’s JFK Jr. Lookalike Contest first appeared on Washingtonian. ...read more read less