TikTok

You may know him from TikTok as the “Luckily, I have purse” guy or his podcast with Brooke Averick (“AI could never do the dumb, dumb conversations that we have”). But more and more people are catching Wood at his sold-out stand-up shows.

A self-described “rich kid” from Manhattan who’s known online for his viral crowd work clips, Zelnick is actually building his career the old-fashioned way: Performing in American cities like Plano, Texas, for lefty young people and “eight 64-year-old Republicans sitting in the back, having a straight-up bad time.”

How TikTok turned an old word connoting reserve and modesty into the "very mindful" neologism of the moment.

“This whole aura generation we’re in, everything’s about looking cool,” explains one viral TikTok star.

Ahead of a sold-out hometown show, the high school pals turned TikTok sensations talk to GQ about cracking the algorithm, riding CitiBikes with Ed Sheeran, and why “the longer people don’t know we make music, the better.”

“I've got DMs on Instagram like, ‘Bro, you need to teach us how to bareback flights,’” says a pioneer of the swashbuckling trend.

Or, how young people learned to stop worrying and love mass-produced subcultural merch—even if they can’t name three Nirvana songs.

The comedian behind viral video tours of men’s shockingly messy living spaces describes the wildest thing she ever saw in a room and the most important thing a guy can do to avoid repelling his visitors.

“Everything boils back down to the point of somehow feeling defective or not enough,” says the TikTok and podcast personality, who launched a live nationwide tour this month.

“People meet me, they don’t think I'm a real person,” says the TikTok star. “They think there’s no way a guy can be this positive.”

William Conrad quit his tech job to cook, clean, and serve as the “seamstress” for his girlfriend. One fan describes his soothing TikToks about their lifestyle as “lobotomy-core.”

The boxy $65 slip-ons have become ubiquitous, despite critics online calling them “egregious” and “the greatest threat to a relationship or marriage.”

Rusty Featherstone was living the dream, rating beers on TikTok by guzzling a dozen in one sitting. But now he wants to be the next Anthony Bourdain: “I know that's a big set of shoes to fill, but that's the general idea.”

The chiseled face of the strong-jawed “chad” is no longer just a meme: It’s an actual pose, also known as “Gen Z lip-sync face,” that young guys have adopted as their new go-to on TikTok—and it is not, one writer argues, a joke anymore.

The younger Scorsese has been on a heater posting delightful videos of Marty.

Jacob Knowles, the platform's favorite lobsterman, might know the answer.