At Protein Studios in Shoreditch, Amelia Dimoldenberg is in tap shoes when I arrive. Not metaphorical tap shoes. Literal ones. She’s in the middle of filming a routine for another outlet, surrounded by a team who handles me with the precision of veteran Hollywood publicists. I’ve been told to arrive on the dot for my time slot, and as I wait, I realize that my old Central Saint Martins classmate has somehow evolved into both mogul and meme, all at once.
Back when we studied Fashion Communication together—she in journalism, me on the more visual side—Dimoldenberg was already tinkering with what would become her signature universe: uncomfortable pauses, fried chicken booths, and a delivery so dry it could soak up a spill. What started as a youth-club magazine column became a filmed experiment in our first year, when one of the UK’s most respected grime MCs, Ghetts, sat across from her in a chicken shop. 10 years later, the booths are still plastic, the wings still greasy, but the guest list reads like a red carpet roll call: Cher, Keke Palmer, Andrew Garfield, Rosalía, Jennifer Lawrence.
“The vision has always been the same,” she tells me when we sit down. “It’s a date, I’m awkward, I’m looking for true love, and the guest is shown in a different light. That hasn’t changed in 10 years.” It sounds simple, but it’s precisely that clarity—combined with her nonstop work ethic and her knack for turning awkwardness into comedy gold—that’s carried Chicken Shop Date from a side hustle to a cultural phenomenon.
Now she’s celebrating the show’s 10th anniversary with CSD10, a two-day immersive exhibition staged through her production company, Dimz Inc. Part retrospective, part how-to manual, the event charts the evolution of CSD through installations, panels, workshops, and even a giant printed receipt listing every collaborator who’s ever touched the project (no, really). It’s not just a look back—it’s a playbook for the next generation of creators trying to carve out their own space in digital media.
And through it all, Dimoldenberg remains loyal to her first love: fried chicken. “Nuggets only,” she insists with mock severity—though it’s the awkward silences, not the meals, that made her famous.
Alex Kessler: I’ve known you for 10 years, plus—you actually started this back in your first year at CSM, right?
Amelia Dimoldenberg: First year of uni was the first ever episode. Before that, it was a column in a youth-club magazine. I’ve had the idea since I was 17. The first filmed episode was with Ghetts, and people loved it. It just worked. From there, I just kept building and building.
Didn’t you win Student Journalist of the Year at The Guardian?
Scream, I did! I’d forgotten about that. It gave me a lot of confidence. Like, maybe this idea wasn’t completely mad.
How do you go from a side hustle in a fried chicken booth to a global phenomenon?
Being really specific about the details. The vision hasn’t changed. That consistency helps people get it. And then I just worked nonstop. Like, really nonstop.
Nobody wants to work anymore.
[laughs] Sure! But also, the guests helped me evolve it. And YouTube growing with me was huge—suddenly, anyone with internet access could watch.
Was awkwardness always part of the plan?
Yes. At school, I was awkward and deadpan as a defense against annoying boys. It worked! I leaned into that, made it a comedy character.
And now, you’re not just in chicken shops. You’re on the Hollywood red carpet.
Hosting at the Golden Globes and Oscars has been a dream gig. I love interviewing celebrities. On the carpet they come at you like a conveyor belt. You have two minutes to make it magic. It shows people I have range. Chicken Shop Date is one thing, but I can also do red carpets, still with my own twist. And we always keep control of the edit. That’s crucial.
Any crossovers between the booth and the carpet?
Andrew Garfield! I met him first on the carpet, and then he came on [the show]. That episode was huge. People had viewing parties in their offices. Definitely one of my favorites.
Speaking of favorites, any other pinch-me moments?
Cher. When Cher walked into a chicken shop, I was like, this is ridiculous. Then there’s the Louis Theroux “Jiggle Jiggle” phenomenon—suddenly Shakira and Snoop Dogg were dancing to it on TikTok. And now, honestly, this exhibition. Some people think it all started two years ago. Being able to show the full ten-year journey, with the Dimz Inc. Academy on the walls too, feels surreal.
What does this exhibition mean to you?
It’s my way of saying thank you to everyone who’s ever worked on the show. 10 years is a long time. So many people have been part of it. It’s also about finally meeting the audience in real life. Online, you don’t get that physical connection.
Do you think Chicken Shop Date changed how people see interviews?
I hope so. I think we were at the forefront of the content era—celebrity interviews on social media that feel different. Every episode is crafted like a story, not just throwaway content. I’d like to think it inspired people to make things with a point of view.
Who’s your dream next date?
I’d love an artist, because I’ve never interviewed one. Tracey Emin, maybe.
Lastly, after 10 years of eating fried chicken… Do you still love it?
Absolutely. Nuggets only. Always nuggets, chips, and a Mirinda Orange. Never anything else. In 10 years, I haven’t changed my order once.
