I entered the viral Timothée Chalamet lookalike contest. Here's what happened

new York
CNN
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We were on the road at 2 a.m., and after a missed flight and a seven-hour drive from upstate New York, I was finally in the city. I was with my girlfriend, one of the few people – besides my parents and a handful of friends – who knew what I was up to. I wasn't scheduled to work at a fishing store this weekend (where I sell bait and tackle and fill moored boats with gas). I'm grateful for that because I don't know how else I would have explained the situation to my boss.

How do I request an exemption to enter a Timothée Chalamet Lookalike Contest?

I saw the competition flyer online a few weeks ago and thought it might be fun. My girlfriend is a huge Chalamet fan and loved the whole idea. So I registered as a participant and posted a selfie to the organizers – all that was needed to participate – just as a joke. I wasn't sure if the Manhattan event was even real or not. But when it turned out to be real, I bought a plane ticket. It didn't cost much, transportation and a few nights' accommodation came to about $400. After all, this may be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I wasn't nervous. If anything, I was thrilled. I've been thinking about moving to New York City for some time – hopefully once I graduate from the State University of New York Canton (SUNY) with a degree in Graphics and Multimedia Marketing – so this seemed like a good opportunity be. I want to do something creative, such as making clothes, making videos or modeling, so I decided the event could be a good networking opportunity. That's how people get jobs, right? Through connections?

The Chalamet comparisons started earlier this year when I was growing out my dark, curly hair. People joked under Instagram posts that they liked me in Dune 2. I get looks from passers-by on the street and a co-worker calls me Willy Wonka.

Friends also joke about the similarity. But the strangest moment happened last winter when I went to Toronto for vacation with my girlfriend. We were at a mall and saw a “Wonka” pop-up with huge posters and a giant pink “chocolate tree” just like the one from the movie.

I hadn't been standing there long when a guy working at the pop-up shop came up to me. “I've seen so many people come through here, and you're the only one who looks like Timothée. You should sign your name next to his!” he said, pointing to Chalamet’s signature on one of the posters. I immediately felt like a fraud. “I can’t sign that,” I told him. Disappointed, he insisted that I take a photo in the photoshoot area. Before I could say no, he and his colleagues rushed up to me with a Wonka-style coat and took a photo. I still have the photo.

It's funny that I felt uncomfortable posing for this photo, and yet I traveled to an event where people accept hundreds or even thousands of photos like this.

When I arrived at Washington Square Park in Manhattan on Sunday, half an hour before the competition began, there were already at least 1,000 people in the audience.

For a while, all I could see were phone screens – people recording me, taking my photo and asking to speak to me. At first it was overwhelming. I felt like I was being followed by TV cameras and journalists, like I was an animal in a zoo or a circus. I was worried that the contestants would be asked to perform or walk in front of all these people. I heard some boos and cheers at the other end of the park (I later saw online that it was the crowd judging other participants), but I stayed under the Washington Square Arch.

I met a few other look-alikes and we stuck together amid the tumult. The NYPD issued an eviction notice and at one point an officer came up to me and yelled that I had to leave the park. I ignored him and walked away, but I saw another participant being handcuffed and dragged out of the area. (The NYPD has since confirmed that it fined organizers $500 for an “unauthorized costume contest” and that at least one participant was led away in handcuffs, although a police spokesman told the Associated Press that charges are pending.)

When the real Timothée Chalamet made a surprise appearance, the energy intensified. However, he was gone in a flash, disappearing into the crowd and walking back to a car at the edge of the park. I think he knew that if he stayed too long things would have escalated.

I had planned my outfit earlier in the week: a gray t-shirt, a black leather jacket, ankle boots and straight-leg jeans to make me look thinner. I tried to recreate Chalamet's look from the Chanel perfume campaign he starred in this summer. Some of the other Timothées, including the winner, dressed up as Willy Wonka. I didn't get a good look at him, but I think they gave him the $50 prize (and a trophy) because he stood up for his task by handing out chocolate. I didn't care about the win, but it was flattering when someone later told me I should have taken first place.

This will be my only doppelganger competition. While I thoroughly enjoyed my three hours of fame (I have to admit, I was thrilled to be “recognized”), it also had its downsides. The looks, the people pulling you and touching you, taking photos of you. Luckily, as soon as it was over, I was able to go out for tacos with my girlfriend—no fans crowding the table, no costumes, no sneaky pictures snapped from across the restaurant. Next week I'm going back to school and my job at the tackle shop like nothing happened.

And as much fun as it was to be Timothée Chalamet for an afternoon, I'm really glad I'm Reed Putman.