If there’s a sign with her name on to tell them who she is, it’s often misspelt. Mostly they don’t know who she is and want her to budge for Jennifer Coolidge.
And you’re around the most beautiful, successful people so you can’t help but compare yourself.” It is worse in the photographers’ pen, she says. You’re meant to be the most perfect version of yourself. “The red carpet is the most overwhelming place,” she says, leaning in as we try not to topple Priyanka Chopra Jonas. You’re around the most beautiful people you can’t help but compare yourselfĪs we enter the “awards party room” at Tussauds, Dimoldenberg, in black biker jacket and jumpsuit, compares our entrance to reality. Nora Ephron couldn’t have written it better. It was all anyone remembered about the ceremony. “I’m scared of what it could turn into,” said Garfield. They met again at the Golden Globes in January and only grew more flustered. Their nervy oneupmanship indicated undeniable chemistry, titillating Twitter. He admired the “rubbery ropes” of her complicated dress and said he’d do CSD. At the 2022 GQ man of the year awards, Andrew Garfield declared his fandom. More recently, Dimoldenberg, 29, has been hosting the red carpet at glitzy awards parties (including the Vanity Fair bash at the Oscars) as legacy brands lunge for her ability to mint weird viral gold. (The Theroux episode of CSD has now been viewed 11m times.) “As someone who’s always been so interested in pop culture, to be part of a big pop culture moment like that was really amazing,” says Dimoldenberg. He did, spawning last year’s best meme by reciting the “My money don’t jiggle jiggle / It folds” rap from Weird Weekends. In person.”) To rapper Fuse ODG: “ Did you have dreams of being an electrician?” And, infamously, “ Can you remember any of the rap that you did?” to Louis Theroux. “So, how do you sext?” she asks Ed Sheeran in one episode. As host of the comedy interview series Chicken Shop Date (CSD), Dimoldenberg takes celebrities out for nuggets, purportedly on her quest for true love, although her exaggerated awkwardness doesn’t exactly make for traditional romance. At least the fake photographer gets to experience her trademark sharp-shooting.
“How would you take it then?!” says Dimoldenberg, bemused. He wants a photo – but his camera is fake and he has no phone. Is this still a bit? Or has the presence of an actual celeb melted Madame’s waxy fourth wall? Except … “Oh my goodness, it’s you!” he giggles, overcome. Then a human photographer fawns over us as if we were real stars. “Is that a real person?” she jumps as we pass a plastic paparazzo. “It’s showtime!” It looks more like Amelia Dimoldenberg and I are walking down a dark corridor this isn’t Hollywood, but London’s Madame Tussauds. “You’re about to get on to the red carpet for one of the most exclusive awards ceremonies of the year!” a voice booms.
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