Dan Wye: Being Sam Smith’s doppelganger gave me the ultimate identity crisis

Dan Wye Am I Sam Smith? | Dylan Woodley

Every year thousands of artists flock to the Edinburgh Fringe with the desperate hope that performing in a damp bunker might make them a star. A few years ago, I had the opportunity to know exactly what walking those cobbled streets and being a star felt like, but not because of the success of my comedy show.

No. Instead, everyone thought I was an A-list pop singer.

Bizarrely, this wasn’t the first time I’ve been told that I look like a famous person. Aged six, I was called gay because I looked exactly like the gay best friend in Billy Elliot. This kicked off years of homophobic bullying well before I realised that I actually was queer. A couple of decades later I was living out and proud, but plot twist, I was hit with another identity crisis. Enter Sam Smith.

I would be minding my own business buying my 10,000th Tesco meal deal of the month and would have complete strangers asking me for photos and autographs. People everywhere were convinced I had won four BRIT Awards. Now, for me BRIT Awards are like texts back from the men I’ve hooked up with - I don’t have them! 

I was being treated like a celebrity but with none of the benefits, just all the harassment. Have you ever been at Edinburgh’s Waverley Station hungover to the point that you could slip into a twenty-year coma, whilst hordes of deranged fans are coming up to you for selfies? Just me? Live, laugh, love my life. 

Sam Smith | Getty

It soon affected every facet of my life. On dating apps people would think I was Sam Smith, or in person people would flirt with me thinking that I could help their floundering music career. 

One year I was performing comedy at Glastonbury Festival. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the worst place for a person who looks like a famous singer could be is at one of the world’s most renowned music festivals. I would be walking around, and random festival-goers would be singing at me as if I was going to turn around and say “Me and you in the studio, babe, let’s go.” Grow up.

I met a guy there just outside a music tent, he was very attractive, an aging twink, or what I like to call a ‘twas’, but it was a great vibe. We were flirting, we kissed, and I gave him my number so that we could hang out in London. I then watched him save my name in his phone as… Sam Smith.

I guess I gave him the perfect festival anecdote of making out with a world-renowned singer. That was my good Samaritan deed of the month ticked off.

A lot of the time when I would say no to a photo people would get angry. Even when I tried to tell them that I wasn’t Sam they would demand to see my ID to prove it. They just assumed I was being a rude celeb. 

In my work life there was also no respite. I was once invited to an industry event along with lots of press and big comedy names, many of whom I admired. It was very fancy, and one of those occasions where you look around and think “This is showbiz.” It’s the same thought you get when you’re at a great house party and think “This is Skins”.

The next day, I got a message to say the PR for the event had to stop the press from running articles that Sam Smith had been there. So great to have this momentous moment in my career that I wasn’t even supposedly at. 

Crazily, I know that Sam Smith has also been hit with this case of mistaken identity. I am known for performing as the comedy drag Ghost Whisperer Séayoncé, and was told that a fan walked up to Sam in Soho one night and said “Séayoncé, I love your work.” So, they’ve likely been mistaken for Séayoncé just as much as I’ve been mistaken for them (I’m obviously joking). I do wonder how many of my poor life choices have affected Sam’s reputation though.

The situation reached a point where I felt harassed almost every time I was out, so much so that it became hard to leave my house. As a queer person I’ve worked so hard over the years to become proud of my true identity. So, it cut that much deeper when I found my identity being eclipsed for looking like someone else. I took up no space. 

Thankfully one day the incessant comparisons suddenly stopped. It wasn’t because of anything drastic - Sam just dyed their hair blonde, that’s it! They just changed their hair! That was enough to set us apart. 

Looking back, although it was a traumatic time I got to experience first-hand what it’s like to be famous. I do not miss the lack of respect people have for your personal space, but it has given me great material from my debut stand-up hour and that’s all we can ask from trauma. Thank you Universe.

Who knows, maybe I will become famous enough one day that a young big-faced queer constantly gets mistaken for Dan Wye. Fingers crossed.   

Dan Wye Am I Sam Smith? at Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker One), 9:55pm, until 25 Aug, and Séayoncé: She Must Be Hung! at Assembly George Square Gardens (Piccolo), 5:55pm, on 12, 13, 19, 20 and 25 August