In a new profile with GQ, Paul Anthony Kelly is introduced at a crossroads: a longtime working model suddenly thrust into leading-man territory as the face of Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette. The timing couldn’t be sharper. With the series now streaming and dominating conversation, Kelly is no longer an industry insider’s secret, he’s the internet’s latest fixation.
And yes, the chest hair has its own fan base.
Kelly, 37, was cast by Ryan Murphy to portray John F. Kennedy Jr., the political heir whose charisma blurred the line between public servant and tabloid prince. The role demands more than resemblance. Kennedy remains frozen in collective memory: biking through Tribeca, jogging in compression shorts, turning a fleece and headband into a fashion thesis. For Gen Z’s “old money” aesthetic, he’s less historical figure and more Pinterest board.
Murphy’s team needed someone who could evoke that magnetism without parody. Kelly, a Canadian model with nearly two decades of runway and catalog work behind him, wasn’t an obvious household name. That anonymity was part of the appeal. No baggage. No prewritten narrative.
The result is a star-making turn that leans into Kennedy’s physicality while grounding him as a person. The pilot wastes no time establishing the fantasy: suited and cycling through downtown Manhattan, then shirtless in the gym, then fully aware of the camera’s gaze. The show understands that JFK Jr. was one of the first modern men to be both political scion and pinup.
What it perhaps didn’t anticipate was the degree to which viewers would fixate on Kelly’s body hair.
When asked in the GQ interview about becoming an object of online thirst — specifically discourse about his chest — Kelly didn’t bristle. He embraced it.
“Why not? Listen, there’s an ass for every saddle.”
It’s the kind of line that instantly escapes its original context and becomes meme-ready. But beneath the humor is something more pointed. In an era where male leads are often waxed, filtered and engineered into algorithm-approved physiques, Kelly is presenting something less manufactured. Broad-shouldered, athletic, visibly human.
He has spoken about spending years in modeling conforming to client demands, including shaving or trimming to fit campaign aesthetics. Acting, for him, marks a shift. The expectation isn’t perfection; it’s presence. And if that includes chest hair that sends TikTok into a spiral, so be it.
The Ryan Murphy Launchpad
Murphy has built a reputation for anointing new internet boyfriends. From Glen Powell to David Corenswet and Charles Melton, his projects often function as glossy introductions to leading men with classic appeal.
Kelly fits that lineage, but he arrives with an edge. Before the tailored suits and presidential posture, there was a goth teenager in Toronto experimenting with eyeliner and punk references. He still carries nearly 30 tattoos beneath JFK Jr.’s wardrobe. The contrast works in his favor. He can sell Brooks Brothers polish without feeling museum-like.
That duality may explain why the performance resonates. Rather than mimic Kennedy as a marble statue, Kelly plays him as a man navigating scrutiny, adored, photographed, critiqued and, ultimately, human.
Legacy and Scrutiny
Portraying JFK Jr. means inheriting decades of projection. His 1999 death alongside Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy sealed their image as American royalty suspended in time. The series revisits not only their romance but the machinery around it, press attention, public fights, fashion analysis and political speculation.
The production has faced criticism from Kennedy family members, including Jack Schlossberg. Kelly has largely sidestepped direct confrontation, instead framing the project as an attempt to tell a love story rather than exploit a legacy. It’s a careful line to walk, especially for an actor stepping into his first major role.
Still, early response suggests the gamble paid off. The show has trended at the top of streaming charts, and Kelly’s follower count has surged accordingly. Fan edits, thirst tweets and speculative casting threads are already circulating. The internet has crowned its new boyfriend.
Older, Wiser, Unbothered
What makes Kelly’s ascent feel different is timing. At 37, he isn’t a fresh-out-of-drama-school hopeful. He’s lived through the volatility of modeling, navigated body standards and outgrown phases he now views with perspective. That maturity seems to buffer the whiplash of sudden fame.
In GQ, he comes across less as a man scrambling to capitalize on momentum and more as someone aware of the moment but not consumed by it. There’s ambition, certainly, executive producers have hinted at his potential for screwball comedies in the Cary Grant mold, yet there’s also steadiness.
And perhaps that’s the quiet subversion at play. In a culture obsessed with optimization, Kelly’s appeal hinges on something simpler: he looks comfortable in his own skin.
Chest hair included.
If Hollywood is searching for its next polished superhero, it may have found someone more interesting — a leading man who doesn’t need to shave away the details to fit the frame.
