Best crowned after Soho Square event

With sanitary pads in his pockets and a tote bag full of feminist literature, Aiman Kaiden knew he was ready to compete.

Last weekend in London’s Soho Square he strutted against two dozen other men – and some women with drawn-on moustaches – in a catwalk contest to find the city’s best “performative male”.

The online trope absorbs various fashion trends and aesthetic choices, but above all, the performative male is trying to send you a clear message – that he understands your struggles and is ready to listen to you, girl.

The sanitary pads demonstrate his empathy and readiness to help should a nearby woman forget she’s on her period; the literature that he knows all about the structural and institutional barriers of the patriarchy.

The tote bag will have a Labubu doll attached (he’s playful, you see); the jeans will be baggy (comfort is king); the latte will be matcha (trendy drinks are for men too); the camera will use film (it’s just more authentic).

Aiman, a 22-year-old musician, admits he has some interests that coincide with stereotypes about performative males, but doesn’t consider himself one. His friends insisted he participate in the contest.

In the square, cheering onlookers voted for their favourite male after they were put through a series of trials, which ranged from explaining their choice of book to performing romantic songs.

Aiman chose one that became popular on TikTok, where videos about performative males have been widely liked and shared in recent weeks.

“I learnt a few ukulele chords for a Clairo song called Sofia,” explains Aiman, who insists he really is a fan of the soft rock singer.

The book he chose was by novelist Cecelia Ahern. “PS, I Love You is actually a really good read.”

At one point Aiman began throwing roses to adoring fans in the crowd. “I do tend to buy flowers quite a lot,” he says, “be it for my friends – or for my girl.”

One of the women in the crowd – and it was nearly all women – was Zara McIntosh.

She says Aiman’s self-confidence, which included humorous non-answers to tricky questions about women, stood out above the other performative men.

“He was one of the people that I genuinely didn’t know if he was putting on an act, to be like more of a performative male, or if he was being himself – but either way he did it perfectly.”

Zara, 22, thinks Aiman should really have won first place, along with its £25 prize. He finished third.

While the performative males at the contest were a humorous exaggeration of the fashions and affectations you see among some young men, Zara believes there is a deeper reason why they distinguish themselves as they do.

“I think they are trying to physically display their rejection of certain politics,” she says, “that they’re not part of the growing number of misogynistic, right-wing, ideologised men you see at the minute.”

Last year a senior police officer raised the alarm about influencers like Andrew Tate radicalising boys and young men into extreme misogyny in a way that is “quite terrifying”.

Zara feels that, generally speaking, a political gap has emerged between young men and women and that, for some of the latter, it’s very important their partners are clear about where they stand on certain moral and social issues – like abortion, feminism and gay rights.

A 2025 survey of more than 2,000 16-to-29-year-olds in the UK found 20% of women said they were left-wing, compared with 13% of young men.

“I’m not going to deny that there’s a lot of people who dress this way just for the female gaze,” says Aiman, “and I feel like a lot of people are just pretending to do these things even though they’re not really interested in [feminism]… more for female attraction.”

Another woman in the crowd was 28-year-old screenwriter Tianna Johnson, who found the event somewhat cathartic.

“The contest was honestly great, particularly as someone who has found themselves alone with this kind of guy on a date trying to figure out if he seriously thinks listing feminist authors was going to get him laid – or if he was joking.”

A few years ago Tianna, who is black, also began noticing men name-dropping black feminists they had read during conversation.

“They’d tell me all about Toni Morrison and Kimberlé Crenshaw, as if they had read all their books while locked up during Covid. So it was nice to make fun of these ridiculous experiences at the contest.”

Aiman is now riding the wave of his new-found fame and has dozens more followers on TikTok and Instagram, where he posts the music he makes.

A tour of his bookshelf shows his copy of PS, I Love You sitting alongside others on self-improvement, including Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations, and one on how to be a better boyfriend. “I read the introduction after my last break-up,” Aiman says.

Following the contest, he posed with several new fans for pictures – including one who caught a rose he threw into the crowd.

“There were comments saying how cute it would be if we ended up together, but I’ve already got a girlfriend.”

He had borrowed her fitted blue and white checked shirt for the contest. “Her style is amazing,” he says.

But the broken-hearted reading this shouldn’t fear. He tells me: “I’ll be releasing more covers of Clairo on TikTok soon.”