Brooklynite Rich Awn is smooth, good-looking, and successful.  It’s difficult to believe he would have a hard time finding a date. But he does, so for help he turned to VH1’s reality show “Why Am I Still Single?”

“Quite honestly I figured I’d just get myself out there and make my friends laugh,” says Awn, in Greenpoint, New York, which he calls his natural habitat.

Awn ended up on reality TV as a result of a Time Out magazine feature on singles dating. After the article ran VH1 producers approached him.  “I figured why not and it’d be a way to get my name out there not only in the dating world, but also for my companies,” said Awn, who is a licensed sales Agent at Miron Properties, and master brewer of Mombucha (a home-brewed version of the popular drink kombucha).

Awn was on “Why Am I Still Single?” in October 2011 for the first episode of the new season. He also admits it would be a starting point to create a platform for himself as an actor since he also auditions for acting roles. Awn remains a businessman, but continues to actively pursue his interest in performing arts.

On the series, dating coach and matchmaker Siggy Flicker does a dating make over of sorts for a male and female client. Flicker’s goal for Awn was to help him find an attractive, intelligent girl who isn’t put off by cliché lines. Flicker tells her clients that they are going on a blind date, when in fact they are going on a date with each other, which is then filmed and critiqued to determine where help is needed. The first mistake Awn says on his blind date to Flicker’s female client, Katie was “You had me at hello.”

Awn had a large influence in contributing input to how his character was portrayed. From deciding to wear a royal blue suit and red pants, to the lines that he said, he essentially chose to deliberately act as what most would call a “player” with the ladies. He wanted to be a bit punchier with his lines, but overall was content with the way he came off.

“As much as I was playing a character up for myself and being fed how I should approach saying certain things, my character shown was a good amount of my own personality,” said Awn. He explained that the show’s producers had a difficult time figuring out what exactly the conflict for his character was. They decided that he would have a scene where he screamed on the streets of New York that he was “fake”. It was a mortifying experience he says, but a moment of truth for his character. Flicker was trying to transform him into a dateable sincere guy.

His parents didn’t understand that his character was exemplifying his humor, and not his dating manners. “My family was in tears when they saw the show. They’re Irish Catholic and didn’t understand why in the world I would portray myself as this character, but my cousins thought it was hilarious,” said Awn. “Honestly I had a blast doing the show. It was really fun to play a part in reality television and create this reality show persona of myself.”

He didn’t think he had a dating problem himself, nor did the producers, but they thought his personality would grab the viewers attention. He wasn’t the Catholic gentleman that his parents would have liked him to appear as, but he provided entertainment. Awn was defined on the show as the guy who needed to learn how to be honest and open with a girl in order to fall in love.

Flicker set him up with Camille, a girl who she thought would give him a dating lesson and change his demeanor. Flicker wanted to find someone who would keep him interested and had her own personal ambitions. Awn didn’t find love with Camille, but he said he understood why he was set up with her in the show.

The show didn’t help his dating life; if anything it made matters worse, because whenever he would say anything to a date even close to something that he said on the show, then he would be perceived as the “fake” guy from the dating show. Not everyone he went on dates with saw them show, but he said he said he was definitely “Googled” before some of his dates. Awn admits he is still single, adding, “I have an interest in someone right now and it’s legit, but it’s too soon to tell.”

“Hey, in the end I was on a reality television show,” says Awn and thinks it’s an experience to say he’s had. Awn has continued to find opportunities to cultivate his reality television career and sees it as a side job to running his companies. He now is a part of a reality web series that recently premiered its first episode a few weeks ago on YouTube called “Nights in UltraViolet.” It’s defined as a cheap thriller about a group of friends experiencing unexplainable events after a night out.

“It’s something fun to do and fun to watch,” says Awn, “Reality television has a place in reality and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. It’s a different approach to creativity, but I’m enjoying being a part of it.”

By: Kirby Marzec

It’s just past 7:00 p.m. and Kerry Schwartz sips on yet another cup of coffee in an empty production room. It might be her third cup, maybe even her fourth, she can’t recall. Regardless, she’ll be at the office for at least another four hours so a restful night’s sleep isn’t exactly in the cards for this mid-February night. Schwartz is no stranger to late nights or early mornings for that matter. Just last August, she hit the streets of Herald Square at eight in the morning, revved up on caffeine, to petition New York’s early birds. But Schwartz wasn’t trying to persuade passersby to save the whales or donate to Planned Parenthood. She approached people with one simple request: “Come watch ‘The Bill Cunningham Show’ as part of the live studio audience!”

“The Bill Cunningham Show,” a family and relationship drama themed talk show, had just begun taping episodes for its mid-September debut, and as the show’s audience producer, Schwartz was responsible for corralling an audience. No need to bribe potential viewers with the possibility of being seen on TV, though. Schwartz’s lingering fame was enough to muster a full house every morning. “People recognized me from TV,” she says. “I would have been begging for an audience all day if it weren’t for that.”

A year earlier, Schwartz’s role had been in front of the camera as a contestant on “Frank the Entertainer in a Basement Affair,” a VH1 reality show in which 15 girls lived together in a basement while vying for Frank “the Entertainer” Maresca’s affection. But unlike the bulk of love-themed reality shows, this one didn’t take place in a mansion and there was no elegant swimming pool. This affair took place in a cluttered basement in Dyker Heights, Brooklyn with Maresca’s parents to boot. Out of the 15 other girls, Schwartz prevailed and won Maresca’s heart. Not surprisingly, a mere three days after the finale episode, the couple called it quits after cameras stopped rolling. Although she’d lost the man, Schwartz won a real prize: a career boost in the television industry.

With a bug for the boob tube early on, Schwartz attended Brooklyn College where she studied broadcast journalism. Schwartz grew up in Midwood, Brooklyn where she taught herself to avoid the area’s iconic accent. “The Brooklyn accent is ugly on a woman, it’s not good for TV,” she declares. At the time, Schwartz was interested in television casting and took an internship with MTV/ Classic Entertainment Group. “I followed producers to malls and clubs where we’d do casting for shows like ‘Room Raiders,’” Schwartz reminisces. “We found ‘Jersey Shore’s’ J.Wow at the club Neptunes in the Hamptons.” Little did Schwartz know that she’d be next to hit reality TV.

In 2009, Schwartz left school when she was promoted to casting associate at MTV, an opportunity only two of the company’s 15 interns received. “I was working zillions of hours, seven days a week, but it’s exactly what I wanted to do,” she recalls. Schwartz and her team worked on casting a new love-themed reality show for VH1. Tentatively named “The Entertainer of Love,” the show was slated to star Frank Maresca, a reality show veteran from VH1’s “I Love New York,” “I Love Money,” and “I Love Money 2.” The castings were dry until Schwartz herself agreed to do a video interview. “I didn’t want to at first, but Scott Maldanado, the show’s casting director, convinced me,” she laughs. “Two months later they called me saying they wanted me for the show. I thought it was a friend playing a joke so I hung up.”

But the call was no prank. “I thought to myself, ‘I can roll with this, Frank’s an attractive guy,’” Schwartz says of her decision. An added perk was that her good friend Cathy Nardone, whom she’d met while casting for a Nelly music video, also made the cut. “I finally decided to just go for it when my boss gave me his blessing,” says Schwartz. Jimmy Floyd, her boss at MTV, had one stipulation, “He told me not to make a fool of myself,” Schwartz says. At 23-years-old, Schwartz wasn’t looking for a soul mate: “I did it for the connections,” she admits. “I knew it could open a lot of new doors.”

Schwartz was cast as loveable and good-humored. “They portrayed me as the girl next door and that’s exactly what I am,” says Schwartz. Unlike other contestants, Schwartz kept the intimacy to a bare minimum, vulgarity bottled up and scandal under lock and key. “Good thing I didn’t do anything incriminating, my whole family was watching,” Schwartz laughs. “It was weird enough knowing my mom would see me kiss a guy on national television.” Other contestants weren’t so fortunate. Those who got too cozy with Maresca flashed their bare booties to all of America. After all, the cameras never stopped rolling and all footage was fair game.

Post-production was a vortex of events for Schwartz. Although they had finished filming, Schwartz had to keep a low profile since the episodes hadn’t begun airing. More important, her breakup with Maresca had to remain a complete secret, as per a VH1 confidentiality agreement. When the first episode aired in January 2010, Schwartz couldn’t escape the limelight. “I couldn’t go anywhere without getting recognized,” she says. “Friends refused to go to the mall with me because so many people would approach me asking for photos and autographs.” For the year following the show’s airing, Schwartz booked nation-wide appearances with her fellow reality stars.. From Miami to small towns in Virginia, Schwartz was earning $2,000 to show up at clubs, mingle and drink free alcohol for two hours. “A lot of reality stars get sucked into this post-show lifestyle,” Schwartz says. “I was making good money but knew that my celebrity would eventually wear off. I missed real life.” Tired of the jet setting and lack of career focus, it was time to move on.

Schwartz’s next endeavor commenced when Maldanado, the casting director who urged her to interview for her reality stint, wanted to apply Schwartz’s newfound fame to his latest project. “Scott told me we were going to network,” says Schwartz. “He needed people who knew people.” And after a year’s worth of celebrity appearances, thousands knew Schwartz by sight or social media. The goal was to have Schwartz fill 140 studio audience seats for “The Bill Cunningham Show,” a new, syndicated “Jerry Springer” type talk show with dramatic topics like cheating spouses, family blow-ups and teen pregnancy. At six shows per week, Schwartz was responsible for filling more than 800 seats. As daunting of a task as it may sound, Schwartz was ready for the challenge.

Because the show was so new, nobody called to request tickets like more seasoned talk shows. Schwartz used her fame, coupled with social media, to find her audience. “I blasted my Twitter, Facebook and Myspace pages telling fans to come see the show,” she says. “We didn’t have a budget for a paid audience. This was the only way.”

Through social media and hustling passersby, Schwartz filled the audience for the first several weeks on air. Today, much of the studio audience is comprised of ticket requesters or groups and organizations that Schwartz independently books. “The audience is just as important as the talent,” says Schwartz, who looks for young, vibrant individuals when she pulls audience off the street. Being on reality TV has had a clear impact on Schwartz’s perception of the entertainment industry. “I have a better understanding of what television is like from all the angles,” she says of her days on “Frank the Entertainer in a Basement Affair.” “No regrets here. None at all.”

When she’s not wrangling audience members for “The Bill Cunningham Show,” Schwartz manages her own production company, Total B.S. Productions, which she hopes to have up and running within the next few years. Recently, Schwartz finished the reel on her own show, which she hopes will bring some substance to the reality television world. Titled “Reality Check,” Schwartz’s show is slated to give reality show “villains” a chance at reputation redemption by doing charitable work and giving back to the community. “A lot of reality stars don’t get good press because of how TV portrays them,” she confesses. “My show could help revamp their images.”

The show might be long over, but Schwartz isn’t done with her on-camera career. Tanned, toned and poised, Schwartz says she would love to try her hand at hosting. “I don’t think I’d do the reality thing again, but I’d like to host my own show.”

As for love, Schwartz’s main squeeze is her work. “I’m passionate about production,” she say. “Seeing people watch something I worked on gives me goose bumps. My show is my baby.”

By Sarah Fischel

‘Cocky,’ ‘creepy,’ ‘villain’ – these are just a few examples of the labels given on Top Chef blogs and fansites to two time contestant Aneglo Sosa. Despite losing in the finals on season 7 and again on Top Chef: All Stars, the former reality star is doing well for himself and cooking up a storm at his two New York City restaurants.

For the 37-year-old Connecticut native, losing on two seasons of Bravo’s cooking  reality show seems a happy memory on one recent February afternoon as he sipped blended tequila in his newly opened Hell’s Kitchen hotspot ‘Anejo.’

“As a chef you want to see where you are with your cooking skills,” said Sosa explaining why he wanted to be a Top Chef contestant. . “You want to challenge yourself and it’s an opportunity to learn. I became a better person and a better chef, particularly in All Stars. For me, season 7 was a competition but All Stars that was fun.”

According to fans and foes chiming in on blogs and websites, Sosa was regarded as the resident villain in season 7 and redeemed himself on All Stars.

“ I think I was more accurately portrayed the second time around but people need to remember it is a reality show,” said Sosa. “It’s not fair for people to really judge you based on living in a house for a month. Everything is done together, it’s highly concentrated and inevitably gives a skewed perspective. You also grow different relationships with those who remain on the show longer, but what people perceive isn’t necessarily how it really happens.”

While Sosa may have been the resident villain, it’s roles like that and the chefs’ stories that he says help make Top Chef popular and bring a broader audience into the food world and ultimately into restaurants like his own.

“Top Chef has really set the bar for shows like it,” Sosa said. “It opened the doors to people who might not normally watch a cooking competition. It makes people want to experiment and try new things, in their own kitchen and in restaurant experiences. What’s really beautiful about it is you know the story line, you know people’s backstories. Negatively it can take focus off being a chef but there’s added anticipation for who wins, there’s a dialogue.”

Sosa’s high opinion of Top Chef and Bravo is clear, as the chef continues to be close with former Top Chef competitors and the network, continuously appearing on shows like Andy Cohen’s ‘Watch What Happens Live.’

“After Top Chef we all have our own ventures, and help each other out. I’m still close to Mike Isabello, Tiffany, Dale and we’re there for each other, if I’m promoting something in D.C. or Dallas they’ll come out and support me and vice versa. We’ve created a web of support and Bravo helps too. Bravo is an amazing ambassador for us and our venture and we’re ambassadors for them.”

While Bravo and Top Chef have certainly helped Sosa, the young chef’s career was already blossoming before his time on TV. Mentoring with French food giant Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Sosa was sous chef at multiple restaurants and owned his own sandwich shop ‘Xie Xie’ before appearing on Bravo.  But his Top Chef appearances and continued Bravo relationship seems to boost business.

Dana McKiernan, an Anejo bartender “It really is the best of both worlds with Aneglo; he is so down to earth.  He’s around a lot more than I expected, and he comes out and talks to diners, he says hi to everybody. It’s like a family environment but with this celebrity chef. People see him on Jimmy Fallon or Bravo’s Clubhouse and they’re excited to see him in the restaurant and they can because he’s actually here and around and engaged. He didn’t just slap his name on a restaurant; he’s a part of it and people notice.”

Meant to serve local clientele who live nearby in Hell’s Kitchen, Anejo is not the average local eatery. With a huge array of tequila, Mexican-inspired small plates and a cozy but trendy atmosphere, the restaurant may owe more to the famous name behind it than Sosa realizes.

“I visit New York often and I wouldn’t normally come to Hell’s Kitchen for dinner,” said diner Dana Alfassa on a crowed Wednesday night in February.  When she read he was opening a restaurant she decided she wanted to try it because of his Top Chef celebrity. “He is definitely the reason I came but not the reason I’ll be coming back. It’s new and refreshing for this area and the atmosphere and margaritas make it worth a trek over here. There is already so much hype around new restaurants in New York and with a celebrity chef it can be even worse, but when they do actually stand up to their reputation, I don’t know it makes the meal special having seen this person and ‘get to know them’ on TV.”

The restaurant’s intimate ambiance and intricate menu seems appropriate for the chef whose passion for food and his approach to culinary experiences is clear in person and on TV.

“I have a theory based on flavor profiles and extracting those flavors to create a trinity of flavor and ultimately an epiphany of taste for the customer,” Sosa said. “Food needs to be an experience. You have to give people something they remember but make it new, it’s about feeling and emotion. You can no longer simply open a restaurant you have to have a concept, something bigger. You always have to create an experience and to present something up to date, new and fresh.”

After an evening of small dishes designed to compliment the vast array of tequilas, diners will certainly remember the unique manner in which the meal is ended, as they receive the bill in a small moleskin notebook filled with pages of well wishers. “Angelo- Congratulations on Anejo, it’s fantastic! Wishing you the best” read one entry.

Coming a long way from the villain who made it to the Top Chef finale only to fall short, Sosa seems to have shed his initial reality role as his popularity and clientele expands. Whether the diners’ kind messages come from friends or fans it is hard to tell, but the former reality star is definitely aiming to blur the lines between the two and feed all of the above.

By Jamie Friedlander

When Sudhir Kandula came in second place on the reality show America’s Next Great Restaurant for his Indian food concept “Tiffin Box” he was not fazed. Kandula decided to enter the reality show because his idea for a fast casual Indian restaurant (think Chipotle, Panera Bread and Le Pain Quotidien) had been brewing in his mind for a decade. He had always envisioned bringing food from the coast of India to the American public, and coming in second place was not going to stop him.

“I want to make Indian food as ubiquitous as sushi,” said Kandula, 40, as he sipped on a San Pellegrino at the Standard Grill, a Sunday brunch Mecca in the West Village. “There are far more Indians here than there are Japanese. Sushi is in every town now. I can make it happen. It’s going to be a long, difficult journey but I’m up for the task.”

America’s Next Great Restaurant was called a mix between Top Chef and The Apprentice, as both cooking abilities and business management were critical factors. Concepts on the show ranged from grilled cheese to meatballs to soul food. The winner of the show was guaranteed three restaurants financially backed by the four celebrity judges, including chef Bobby Flay and founder of Chipotle Steve Ells.

Kandula formed a particularly strong bond with Ells throughout the show as he thought Chipotle was a great business model. “My dream was always to build a great company,” said Kandula. “To me, Chipotle is a great company first and then the restaurant comes second.” Chipotle achieved such great success because its food is fresh (cue the slogan, “Food with Integrity”), its advertising is clever, and its menu is simple and flexible. Although Ells gave Kandula great advice, he also led to his downfall. After suggesting he make a version of the Indian taco, the other judges felt his idea was too similar to Chipotle and they eliminated him.

The elimination did not come until the last episode, in fact. Over ten episodes, Kandula was only in the bottom once. He won two challenges by a landslide. But he struggled convincing the judges that Indian food was palatable enough for the American public and that his vegetable-heavy concept would succeed in a carnivorous country.

Many experts think Indian food will rise in popularity soon. In her article “Is Indian Food the Next Big Thing?” Ann Levin says, “Supermarket shelves are lined with chutneys, pickles, sauces and all manner of boxed heat-and-serve Indian meals. The quality and number of Indian restaurants has soared.” Some would disagree. Krishnendu Ray, an American ethnic foods expert and food studies professor at New York University thinks otherwise. When asked whether or not Indian food would be the next “big thing” in an interview with Salon.com he said, “Yes and no. Yes, in the sense that it’s going to become both more popular and more prestigious. No, in the sense that Indian food is not going to be as popular and prestigious as Italian food until 2065.” 1965 is the year Indian people began immigrating to America, and Ray thinks any ethnic food needs 100 years to assimilate into the American diet.

“The judges touched a lot upon the challenge of introducing Sudhir’s food to the American people, but I don’t think that it would have been as difficult a sell as they made it out to be,” said fellow contestant Stephanie Park, who came in fourth place for her healthy Mediterranean concept, “Compleat.” She was eliminated because her scattered idea lacked a central theme.

Park became very good friends with Kandula during the show. “Even if I hadn’t been eliminated before the final episode, I would have been rooting for him to win,” she said. “I couldn’t help but acknowledge his creativity, intelligence and business savvy, as well as the deliciousness of his food.”

But his business savvy and innovative food weren’t enough. The winning concept was for a meat-heavy, vegetable-light concept: soul food. But the judges were wrong. All three restaurants, named “Soul Daddy,” closed within three months of opening. David Rees, who blogged about ANGR religiously, suggests Kandula lost because Jamawn had a “sap” story (he was struggling to financially support his children back home in Detroit) and this was a ratings-obsessed reality show.  “Woods’ personal story was very compelling and easy to exploit for the purposes of reality-show pathos,” said Rees. “The whole thing was gross and tacky, and both Jamawn and Sudhir deserved better.”

Kandula mentioned that he felt no animosity towards Jamawn, the show’s winner. “If people ever wanted animosity, there was none,” said Kandula. “I wasn’t competing against them, I was competing for my concept. I never thought I had to beat them as a person.”

His concept derived from being raised in a very large household in India, where a love of food was a must. “At one time there were 20 or 25 of us living under one house, so basically we had extraordinary mini feasts everyday.” He moved to America at age 20 to get his Master’s at Michigan State and got involved in sales soon after graduating, although a passion for food always lingered at the back of his mind. While working in sales he decided to take a sabbatical in Paris to study at the Cordon Bleu, where he would take the train to London just to indulge in its delicious Indian food. He has never worked as a professional chef, although he frequently cooks for friends. During this sabbatical, ten years ago, Sudhir decided he wanted to make his passion for food a career and he began developing Tiffin Box.

Although very passionate about his concept, his parents had mixed feeling about him being a contestant on the show. “My mom was distraught,” he said. “She still thinks of food as a very blue collar thing and also my mom’s still pretty old-fashioned. She’d rather me be married with kids than trying out food concepts.” His dad was more supportive. “He accepted that I wanted to tackle the larger vision of retelling the story of Indian food for the next 20 years of my life so he is on board. So is mom now.”

This goal of widely introducing Indian food to America has been a struggle for Kandula. He chalks it up to the fact that Indian food in America is not representative of what Indian people actually eat. “There are a lot of Indians here so it is such a pity that people know our food as the heavy, greasy curry or tikka masala, because that’s not what we cook in India at all. That’s a poor interpretation of our food. Our food is bright and light and vibrant.” In an article with the Star Tribune, Kandula said a standard dish at Tiffin Box, “will likely include the likes of sautéed greens with lentils, cooked with toasted coconut and dried red chiles, served on rice or in wraps.”

Another challenge Kandula faces is introducing Indian food to American children. Each week on the show the contestants had a challenge—everywhere from designing a food truck to cooking for 200 at an outdoor fair. One week the challenge was to cook for children, and Kandula’s veggie burger did not go over well—he was in the bottom three for the only time. He blames this on parenting in America. “This not to badger American moms but the food they give their kids is fairly limited, nuggets and hot dogs, while kids in India are eating spicy, delicious stuff.”

As a contestant on the show, Kandula both refined his idea and generated immense visibility.  He took the majority of the advice from the judges, but not all. They overruled his name Tiffin Box (the name given to the box that holds Indian spices) because the terminology was not familiar enough to Americans and decided on the slicker name Spice Coast. That is the one piece of advice he did not appreciate, however, and he will return to the name Tiffin Box.

“I absolutely loved the feedback from the judges,” said Kandula. “Like everything in life you take all the feedback and use what fits your vision. I loved it, the good and the bad.” Currently the Vice President of Sales for technology startup SinglePlatform—one of America’s most promising startups according to Bloomberg Businessweek. SinglePlatform is a company that helps restaurants and local businesses showcase their storefront virtually everywhere online. He wants to focus his attention on making Single Platform a success before opening his first restaurant. He plans on opening a Tiffin Box in the next 18 months.

Kandula has taken many steps to ensure the restaurant he opens will be a hit. A self-professed foodie, he follows the restaurant scene in New York religiously. While talking at the posh Standard Grill—where a no-refill coffee is $4—he stopped for a moment just to point out the famous chef Michael White standing outside.

“I want to stay in the competition and so many places are trying to be the Indian Chipotle,” said Kandula, and he is right. According to Thomas Rogers’ article “Can Indian food conquer America?” a Chicago man is already trying to open an Indian Chipotle. “And I’m okay with that, but I don’t want to call myself that at all, I want to carve my own path. I feel like I can do it better than most people. And that’s not arrogance; I’ve just done my homework. I’ve done the work and put in the hours.”

Jason Christopher Peters

By Emma Varvaloucas

It was February 2008, and then-25-year-old Jason Christopher Peters felt like a prisoner. As a finalist for the competition reality show “Stylista,” he had been sequestered in a Los Angeles hotel with no phone, no computer, and no one to talk to except CW Television Network casting agents and producers for a week.

Shuttled from interview to interview, Peters was grilled endlessly: His aspirations in the fashion industry. His upbringing. His feelings about the recent death of his grandmother. When he wasn’t being interviewed, he was sent to his room; a security guard posted on the floor made sure he stayed there.

By the afternoon of the seventh day of isolation and interrogation, still uncertain if the producers had picked him to be on the show, Peters was exhausted. I want to go back to my family, he thought as he flopped his skinny frame onto his hotel room bed for a nap. I’m over this. I want to go home…

Peters fell asleep. He dreamed of his grandmother, Dolores, who had instilled him with a love of fashion. Since he was a toddler, the two had watched pageants and awards shows together. Peters’ favorite was always Miss America. When the contestants came out in their evening dresses, he sat right in front of the TV, his face glowing from the light.

All that Peters remembers of the dream is that his grandmother was speaking to him. “Your life will change forever at eight,” she said.

When Peters woke up, it was 8 p.m. The phone was ringing.

It’s been more than three years since the wrap of  “Stylista,” a reality-TV show in which fashion wannabes competed for an editorial job at ELLE magazine. Peters, who made it onto the show, was eliminated after just two episodes, gracing TV for a grand total of two hours. But two hours has been enough. As his grandmother predicted, his life has changed forever. As a budding fashion designer currently building his brand by selling “couture accessories” off of his personal website, he credits the continuing attention from “Stylista” as paramount to his success.

“Everywhere I go now this sea of people seems to follow,” Peters, now 29, said on the phone, his tone gleeful as he described his recent birthday party in January as “really, really, really, really insane.” As he entered the venue where his birthday was being held, “This cameraman was like, ‘Mr. Jason Christopher Peters, happy birthday from TMZ.’ And that’s when I knew—TMZ was at my birthday party. Like, what?” By the time Peters finished his story, he was almost breathless.

Walking towards the insanity of his birthday celebrations, Peters remembers thinking, What the hell? “Because I’m just Jason,” he explained. “I’m just a regular person. This life has just happened to me really, really randomly.”

Not all of it is random. So many people showed up to his party partly because Peters posted an open invitation online, advertising that “special celebrity guests” and “tons of media, press, and photographers” would be in attendance (there was free cake, too).

And he became a contestant on “Stylista,” he believes, because the story of his life was sellable: a country boy, raised in rural California by his grandparents, who supported Peters and his two brothers on pittance.

Peters also stood out naturally from his competition. “He was so different,” said “Stylista” casting agent Chrissy Glickman, 26, who not only remembers Peters from hundreds of applicants but is still in contact with him. “His style, attitude, demeanor—he had this spark in him.” When Peters was kicked off the show, she said, she was “heartbroken” that he did not win.

These days, Peters knows even better how to stand out on his own terms. On Twitter, he is “Celebrity Designer/Model/Socialite Jason Christopher Peters!” With almost 4,000 followers, he has Tweeted over 41,000 times: no small feat for someone who does not own a smart phone. He uses Twitter as a vehicle both to promote his business and connect with supporters, whom he calls his “Twitter fam.” At least once a day he Tweets some variation of greeting to them. “Goodmornin’ To My Beautiful and Sexy Twitter Fam! I love ya’ll!” he Tweeted one morning in February.

Peters is adamant that before he was on reality TV, he never wanted fame. (“No! Never! Never, never, never!” he responds when asked.) And yet, maintaining his 15 minutes is important to him, managing to work it in with a day job as a salesclerk at a midtown H&M. At night he becomes a fashion designer and model always on the lookout for career opportunities—promoting his career, he said, was the main reason why he went on “Stylista” in the first place.

On one level, it seems to have been worth it. In the three years since “Stylista” aired, Peters has been bedecking fellow reality TV personas—Angelina from the “Jersey Shore,” Raquel Castro from “The Voice,” Tracey DiMarco from “Jerseylicious”—with his handmade signature bejeweled eye-patches and felt animal-face pins.

And he is a frequent attendee of red carpet events, where he can network and continue the buzz. A week ago, Peters was photographed by Getty Images at the Barami Fashion House show. Two weeks ago, at a Mercedes-Benz fashion week show. Three weeks ago, at an event with Nick Cannon at Bar Basque. A month ago, at the “Bad Girls Club” season 8 premiere party.

At one point, making appearances at events was all Peters did, and he relied upon it as his only source of income. After “Stylista” finished (it only ran for one season), he was attending 10 to 15 events per week, urged on by a team of managers, public relations people, and assistants who were making money off of each appearance.

Surrounded by the golden aura of fame, no one knew that Peters was homeless, crashing at friend’s places and paying for hostels when he could. During the day, when there were no events to attend, he would walk the streets of New York for hours. “That first year, I got sidetracked,” said Peters. “The red carpet events and photographers, they were just consuming me so much. I was drinking, partying nonstop.”

Sometimes, he would sleep in diners or cafés. In case someone recognized him from “Stylista” while he slept, he made sure to take out a sketchpad and pens—that way, it would look like he had simply fallen asleep while sketching.

Eventually, he began working at H&M and turning down appearances. And that’s when everyone—his manager, his public relations person, his assistant—disappeared. “They just left me,” Peters said. “They didn’t care.”

For Peters, betrayal in the pursuit of fame was an all-too-familiar theme. He was cut in the second episode of “Stylista” partly because other contestants teamed up against him, pegging him as the weak link and exploiting his quiet demeanor.

By the finale of the second episode, Peters was stressed to the point of medical emergency; with a rash covering his upper body, he was sent to the hospital. The show said that he was having a panic attack. (“I’ve never had a panic attack in my life,” said Peters.) Panic attack or not, he was ready to leave.

Reality TV, it seems, is both Peters’ burden and his blessing. Although he’s wary of pigeonholing himself into the reality TV box, he would love to be on NBC’s “Fashion Star” or Lifetime’s “Project Runway.” Friends of his are currently filming footage in hopes of producing an all-Peters reality show. After two months of filming, no networks have bitten yet. But Peters is certain that if it is picked up, it will be successful.

It’s true that Peters, at least on Twitter, has a natural aptitude for showcasing the banal details of his everyday life. “Shower Time!!!” he Tweeted two weeks ago, followed quickly by two other Tweets about how awesome his shower was.

Showers notwithstanding, Peters is busy. Looking at his Twitter and listening to his stories, his life seems to be an endless barrage of celebrity meet-and-greets, fashion projects, and red carpet events.

“Can u meet me at 340 w39th st? Im gunna get styled for an event,” Peters texts on the day of our interview.

The address turns out to be an unmarked grey metal door in the garment district. Outside, Peters meets Brian Wood, whose designs he will wear later that night. Accompanied by a female friend whom Peters met for the first time at his birthday party in January, the trio traipse upstairs to the designer’s office on the fourth floor.

Once inside, Peters goes through the boxes and racks of clothes that cram the small room. He holds up a Brian Wood T-shirt  and looks in the mirror. “This is cool,” he says, referencing the shirt’s graphic: a sitting woman with a hot pink ball-gag in her mouth. Two bright yellow chopsticks emerge from the armpit of the shirt, pinching her like a grain of rice. Underneath, there are two Japanese characters. “It means fisherman,” the designer says.

Eventually, Peters puts down the shirt and chooses a black sweatshirt instead, its front covered by a smiley face with Xs for eyes. He stays in the baggy black pants and black sneakers that he came in, and puts on a black leather jacket. His final touch is a Jason Christopher Peters designed backpack: black, of course, with bejeweled straps.

You can check out Jason Christopher Peters’ designs at www.jasonchristopherpeters.com and follow him on Twitter @JasonCPeters.

Image by Quro Studios.

Maya Luz

In the ten seasons of “Project Runway” only three contestants have left the reality TV show voluntarily. Their usual parting is indicated with judge Heid Klum asserting a “you’re out” followed by her warm familiar German send-off “Auf Wiedersehen.” However, instead of waiting for Klum and the rest of the judges to announce her exit, season seven contestant Maya Luz left on her own accord, and without a single regret.

The 21-year-fresh-out of college designer kept a low-key presence on the 2010 show, while gradually advancing in the competition with her avant-garde and sculptural designs. Her look was exemplified like in “Hard Wear” challenge, where she fitted her model into a light gold strapless dress paired with a dramatic high collared black caged jacket made out of hardware. Luz emerged as a strong creative competitor, garnering enough attention to  receive a fan favorite prize on the show’s wrap-up reunion special.

Yet despite her performance, Luz didn’t feel prepared to complete the 11^th of 14 challenges.  She was among the six remaining contestants out of the original 16.   The night before the next challenge was announced, she laid in bed in the Project Runway dorm and contemplated leaving.

Shortly after judge Heidi Klum presented the challenge to the contestants, Luz decided to speak with Tim Gunn, the show’s on-air style expert and advisor. Rather than put her pencil to the pad to sketch out a red-carpet look to be worn by none-other-than Klum herself, Luz left the designer’s workspace at Parson’s The New School for Design and headed for Gunn.

Expressing to Gunn her reservations of that she was too young for the show, having only recently graduated college that year, Gunn agreed with Luz saying, “I think you are really fresh and I think you do need some time to work out what you are doing.” Relieved Luz thanked Gunn and walked back into the design lab to relay her big decision not only to the six other contestants but “Project Runways” vast TV audience.

“I weighed my options and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and I knew people weren’t going to understand me, and I think people still don’t understand me. It was a gutsy thing to do on national TV for sure but you know, stranger things have been done,” said Luz, one recent March afternoon at her Bronx studio/apartment.

Luz's studio/apartment

Her departure came as a shock to both the audience and her fellow contestants, prompting mixed responses.  In an on-the-show interview, contestant and second-runner up Emilio Sosa, “That’s a cop out, if your going to leave say, ‘Okay I’m going to design my ultimate outfit and let them kick me out on that outfit.’ Don’t quit; quitters never win.” The season winner, Seth Aaron Henderson, defended Luz saying,  “You know we work 18/20 hours a day, 7 days a week, you’re pretty much drained all the time, so you know anybody sitting at home saying I can’t believe Maya quit, you know what [“F” word bleeped] off, you have no clue, don’t judge, you come here and try it.”

The design-intensive show is fast-paced and demanding. Participants are expected to partake in zany off-the-wall challenges, using objects like hardware store materials to spew out one- of-a-kind, perfectly crafted high fashion ensembles in the matter of a two-to three-day period. The aim for contestants entering a show like this is simple: to win the $100,000 cash prize and to gain national exposure.

Luz’s call to fashion started at a young age. Her parents were artists and grew up in Naples, Florida, constantly encouraged to express herself creatively. At an early age, she began drawing illustrations and painting but it wasn’t until age 13 that she shifted her love of art to be more fashion-centered. She started with constructing jewelry and handbags and then eventually created apparel out of colorful dishtowels and old bed sheets. Thanks to her hands-on-hobby, Luz made her entire wardrobe all four years of high school, propelling her to neighborhood success.

“I was always that girl that dressed really crazy and I kind of stuck out like a sore thumb and then people started to offer to buy things from me,” said Luz who recollects one of her favorite handmade bags from her high school years that depicted the brassy words “Love Sucks” on the front.   “Also I started making things for other people and having little trunk shows and fashion shows where I would invite people, like my boyfriend’s band would play and I would make a cool kind of event out of it.”

The teenage innovator and entrepreneur decided to capitalize on her talents and set her sights on a professional career in fashion design. Luz was accepted into Massachusetts College of Art & Design, and after four years of intensive design and sewing, earned a Bachelors of Fine Arts in Fashion Design in 2009. Just before graduation “Project Runway” reached out to her school in search of young, talented designers as possible contestants on the show.

Hesitantly, and only after being urged by friends, Luz decided to try out for the show. Reality TV had never appealed to her. “I wasn’t even really interested in it, because I don’t like reality TV; I don’t watch TV,” said Luz.

Luz finished the show with the same disinterest in reality TV as when she entered it. “Without any regrets it was an incredible learning experience for myself and everyone around me and I wouldn’t take it back, I think it was completely necessary in my development as a designer,” she said, adding with a laugh. “But I’m happy not to be on it anymore.”

Luz acknowledges a certain dislike for the show, referring to it as being “produced just like a movie” and though it did provide her with newfound exposure it wasn’t quite the audience she initially hoped it would bring her.

Luz’s ideal crowd consists of the artistic and fashionable, who she felt were not the predominant sets of individuals tuning in weekly for the show.

While the show had its drawbacks, it did allow Luz to figure out what was really important to her development as a designer. After she left the show Luz moved to her longtime European dream destination – London. There, she designed for British designer Hannah Marshall, getting the chance to be exposed through the brand to top modeling agencies, international models, and sought out designers like Mark Fast, John Pierre Bragazna, and Peter Pilotta.

The experience to London ignited a passion for travel in the young designer. After London, she took on a few design jobs in Antwerp and Berlin.

She returned to New York City and took a job as a head designer for a small suit company and then switched her focus her attention to designing and selling hand bags (she’s already in the process of selling some of her bag designs to a few she was unwilling to name). She also freelances and is working on a couple of different projects, including a prototype for her book, which consists of journal entries from high school.

It’s undeniable that “Project Runway” in brought exposure to Luz.  She has more than 1,300 friends on her Facebook page as well as a more modest 456 on her Facebook fan page. But whether the show changed her life is debatable because as a new college grad she was on the cusp of change anyway.

While focused on selling and designing handbags, the 24-year-old designer is also interviewing for jobs with several companies, freelancing, and making pieces on the side to fulfill personal creative cravings. Her studio is her Bronx apartment, which is filled with a rack of her own designed clothes, books containing design ideas, and fabric swatches scattered on her coffee table, and edgy, unfinished bags that include details like spikes, leather, and frills hung up against a backdrop of exposed brick.

A dress and handbags by Luz

The end goal of participating in reality TV show like “Project Runway,” whether it be competitive or not, is arguably to achieve some level of fame and fortune. But while the competition did not quite fair in this way for Luz, she is remarkably not bitter about her experience. When discussing the show she is unwaveringly nonchalant and unaffected. For Luz it didn’t inhibit a roadblock nor clear a great path for her as a designer. Yet, despite the fact that Luz has not gained what so many go on reality TV to gain, she did take away from “Project Runway” important life lessons that taught her to trust and be confident with herself.

“I think in life in general what it taught me to use your intuition bottom line, she said. “And that’s succeeded in everything that I’ve done since then.

Morgan Phillip’s studio, located above an art gallery in a Lower East Side tenement, looks at first typical for an artist with a wall covered in paint. However, instead of paint and markers, his table is filled with toys from “Star Wars,” “The Love Boat,” and other movies and television shows. These toys aren’t for playing with; they’re what Morgan Phillips uses to create what he terms “bootleg style pop culture artifacts.”

One other important note about Morgan Phillips: don’t call him by his given name. The designer prefers to be known as “The Sucklord.”

“The one smart thing I’ve done, amidst all the moronic other things I’ve done, was use that name as it doesn’t exist anywhere else except in application to me,” said The Sucklord one recent February afternoon while working on organizing his archival collection of toys.

By virtue of his adopted moniker alone, The Sucklord stood out as a possible contestant on the second season of “Work of Art: The Next Great Artist,” a reality series on Bravo which is a “Top Chef” style competition for artists. His name also pointed to what would make him the defining personality of the show’s second season: his propensity for bluntly saying what he wanted to say and a biting humor towards everything in life.

Before he became a contestant on a reality show, The Sucklord, now 42, had to find his path in life. He enrolled at art school in the University of Oregon for three years. For The Sucklord, art school was nothing more than an opportunity to smoke pot and coast his way through his assignments, he notes, adding that what he didn’t learn from art school was how to make a living as an artist.

After art school, The Sucklord moved back in with his parents in the West Village and took up a number of odd jobs, including changing clothing store models. In 2004, when his adopted title was chosen, he stumbled upon the way to make his living as an artist. And all it took was just going back to what he had always done as a child.

For the last six to seven years, The Sucklord has been running his own business called Suckadelic Enterprises, which takes childhood toys and alters them in a comical–some would say bizarre– way. One noteworthy example is his “Gay Empire” line of toys, where The Sucklord takes “Star Wars’” Stormtroopers, paints them pink, and heavily enlarges the crotch area.

“Circumstances just worked its way out, where I didn’t fit in anywhere else in the world and I kept doing this under strict poverty conditions until finally I got the formula right, got entrepreneurial, and started selling,” said The Sucklord, as he took time away from counting out his sketches for his Suck Pack 3 series of trading cards.

The Sucklord started selling his bootleg creations online and at fan conventions. Seemingly overnight, The Sucklord’s childhood dreams had turned into a full time profession. His work has become successful enough for several pieces to be auctioned off at rates as high as $1500-$2000 (which The Sucklord thinks is a bit low).

His work has also attracted enough attention from people to be included in the mainstream artistic world. Simeon Lipman, an art appraiser, was so captivated by The Sucklord’s work that he co-curated a Suckadelic Retrospective at the Boo-Hooray Gallery in January 2010.

“I believe it is extremely relevant work,” Simeon said in an e-mail interview. “He takes the language of childhood (particularly my generation’s childhood) and uses it to express his take on life and society.”

In order to expand the Sucklord’s brand, it’s necessary for him to do as much promotion as possible. That’s where “Work of Art: The Next Great Artist” came in. The Sucklord already had reality show experience with a short lived VH1 show, “Can’t Get a Date.” The Sucklord had no intention of finding a date; he wanted the $1000 to be on the show and get exposure. While the prizes on “Work of Art,” which included $100,000 and a solo exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, were even better, the exposure was still the reason to go on the show.

He earned exposure for his name alone. The fact that he was an artist willing to tell respected auctioneer and mentor Simon de Pury to not refer to him as Morgan, only The Sucklord, and his many sarcastic quips cemented his place as the season’s breakout personality, which he swears is the real deal.

“People seem to think my personality is a persona, but it’s not,” he said. “I have a way that I am when I’m interacting with people. I’m an outgoing person and I like attention. But that’s not a fabricated alternate self. It’s the more public version of myself.”

However, the show demonstrated that there was more to the Sucklord than eccentricity and boisterousness. On an episode where the challenge was to create a work of art inspired by a kid’s drawing, he immediately took to the girl he was paired up with and wanted to make a work that would please her, if not the judges.

It was also during that episode that he used his forthrightness to argue on behalf of the street artist Tewz, who was up for elimination along with The Sucklord. The Sucklord admitted that he didn’t react this way because he thought the judges were unfair against his artwork; instead, he argued because Tewz was his best friend and he didn’t want him to leave. Unfortunately, even The Sucklord has his limitations. Tewz was gone.

The Sucklord attributes his lackluster showing on the challenge parts of the show, up for elimination four out of six episodes and not winning once, on a number of factors. He did feel his sentimentality for his kid made him too soft overall and not the true super villain that he portrays in his name. The Sucklord also found it hard to decipher what the judges wanted from him. This was not aided by the show runners depriving him of vital sleep, which made it hard to think clearly through most of the challenges.

The Sucklord was most disappointed by his poor showing in a challenge where he partnered with another artist to create a piece of street art. If any challenge was tailored for The Sucklord’s outsider sensibilities, this was it. Instead, he got eliminated because he didn’t insert enough of his unique personality in the piece. While The Sucklord says he doesn’t care too much about losing, frustration does seep into his voice when he talks about being eliminated.

After the show aired, The Sucklord’s relationship to his girlfriend Sam was strained because his many sexually suggestive comments towards the female contestants and flirting with one on a regular basis. However, he adamantly refused to let a reality show end the relationship and the couple got through the struggle.

On the opportunity side, The Sucklord did see an increase in sales from the show. In part, this was because The Sucklord did not wait; he set out to exploit his reality show fame. After the episode where he was eliminated aired, The Sucklord put toy versions of “Work of Art” judges Simon de Pury, China Chow, and Jerry Saltz for sale on his website. The judge action figures were given such titles as Action Auctioneer Simon de Pury and Important Art Critic Jerry Saltz. In a display of his reality star power, the producers brought him back for the final episode to plug his new creations.

Moving on, The Sucklord now has ambitions of both finding a manager to extend his fame and finding a way to jump onto television yet again. Although The Sucklord’s game performance was not as good as he would have liked, the art super villain has no regrets about his reality show experience.

“When people talk about the second season of “Work of Art,” the topic they usually come to is: What’s up with the Sucklord? And that’s winning.”

Heather Marter of "The Real World: Las Vegas"

A pivotal moment during the 25th season of the popular MTV reality show “The Real World,” takes place in the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. Dustin Zito, outfitted in a gray sweatshirt, basketball shorts, and a backwards baseball cap, waltzes from the kitchen to a bathroom. As he waits for his girlfriend, Heather Marter, a petite and a pretty blonde who’s blow-drying her hair in her bathroom. As she steps out of the bathroom, ominous music plays as Zito reveals that he appeared on a gay porn website called “Frat Pad.”

“Are you gay? Are you bisexual?” asks Marter, tears in her eyes, her hand over her face.

“No, no,” says Zito.

“Then I don’t understand,” says Marter, tears in her eyes, her hand over her face.

“I was in a place where I needed to get out and that was my out,” says Zito. “My parents don’t even know. Nobody knows. It’s really a big secret to me. I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t really want to know anything else,” says Marter.

Zito waltzes past Marter as she sits stationary in the bathroom, tears in her eyes, her hand over her face. They break up, and in the next episode, Zito kisses another roommate, Heather Cooke.

At that moment, Zito seemed like the worst gamble that Marter took while living in Sin City. Instead, years later, he ended up being the best one. She didn’t win fame and fortune, but she did win a boyfriend.

“It was an intense situation, but obviously I’m still with him, so it worked out,” says Marter while sitting on the steps of Woodrow Wilson Hall at Monmouth University one recent afternoon.

Marter, born and raised in a small New Jersey town called Delran, quickly adapted to having cameras filming her every move in Sin City while on the show. Adaptability was a trait that she had acquired during her childhood, says her mother, Nancy. “When she was five, her brother had a brain tumor and we were in and out of the hospital a lot. This caused her to become more flexible and strong.”

Marter also matured and became independent, which she credits with helping her deal with difficult situations on “The Real World.”

“I was with a lot of family members and bounced around to different houses and schools,” says Marter. “My parents gave us everything they could because we almost lost my brother. But I became more reliable on myself.”

Marter was a junior at Monmouth when she saw a flyer for an open-call in Philadelphia for “The Real World.”

“I wanted to be a casting director and I never actually thought about getting on the show,” says Marter. “I went for the career possibility, but it snowballed, and soon I made an audition tape.”

The tape, filmed by one of her Delta Phi Epsilon sorority sisters, featured Marter walking around campus. She was just a “college student with goals” and she didn’t do “anything exceptional” to stand out. After months of waiting and interviews in Los Angeles and New York City, Marter got the call—that she wasn’t expecting.

“I always told my friends that thousands of people are doing this thing and I really didn’t take it seriously,” says Marter.

Taking it seriously was something Marter’s parents didn’t want her to do either and they were worried about her not completing her degree in, appropriately enough, TV production. But in the end, both Marter’s family and friends were supportive of her being cast on “The Real World.”

“I was really happy and excited for her,” says Lauryn Kinsella, Marter’s ‘Big Sister’ during their sorority days at Monmouth. “But I wasn’t shocked because I knew they would love her. This is right up her alley.”

Though, it must’ve suited her. Marter admits that the constant cameras were intrusive at first.

“I had the most trouble getting used to them, ” says Marter. “But then the cameras became a piece of furniture, though I realized how private of a person I really am. Just having a conversation with another roommate, I had to think about what to say.”

And the roommates especially had to think about what to say when it came to them butting heads and not getting along with each other.

“We all really were friends, on different levels of course,” says the all-around nice guy of the house, Michael Ross. “Funny thing is, in the episodes they made it look like Dustin and I were constantly trying to kill each other, but there was also a span of about a month where we got along just fine!”

Of the other roommates, Marter says, “We genuinely cared about each other and liked each other. We shared this odd bond and had weird experiences.”

Those weird experiences included one cast member’s dramatic eviction out of the house, another’s equally dramatic entrance into the house, and a Vegas-style, mock wedding between Ross and roommate Naomi Defensor in the season finale. When they were getting along, the roommates did share an odd bond, whether it be through partying together among the luminous lights of Sin City or through being in bed with each other. When they weren’t, there were the arguments awash with yelling, cursing, pushing, shoving, and near fighting among themselves.

“I was 22 when I did the show, so it depicted how I was when I was 22,” says Marter. “Everything happens for a reason, good things and bad things.”

Those “bad things” included her learning about Zito’s secret gay porn past and viewers’ reactions that weren’t always positive.

“I knew that others were watching and I just prepared myself for anything,” says Mrs. Marter. “Some of the negative responses from people we didn’t know were hard to hear and read. She even received a piece of hate mail which was a little scary. It surprised me at first that Heather didn’t seemed fazed by any of it, but it helped me seeing her handle it so strongly.”

A viewer on an MTV blog wrote about Marter, “She plays with Dustin’s emotions. He deserves better. We all have things in our past we aren’t proud of. Base your judgment on who someone is now.”

Mrs. Marter defends her daughter.

“Some people thought it was harsh of her to step back from Dustin when everything was coming out, but I felt that is something she would normally do and was smart of her,” she says.

When it was time to move out of the Hard Rock Hotel, Marter returned to New Jersey to complete her undergraduate degree and then filmed “The Challenge: Battle of the Exes” with Zito last winter.  Although the couple, who were the fan favorites, were sent home early after Zito injured his knee (while walking up stairs, not during one of the intense, physical challenges that they had to do on the show), Marter was still happy that they were together for three months in the Dominican Republic.

“We broke up after the show, were apart for around six months, and then got back together last June,” says Marter. “It was an ex’s thing, so it would’ve sucked if we were on different teams. But we weren’t and it was good.”

It was good—and has been good for a while now. So good that Dustin has recently moved to New Jersey and into the Marter family home while he and Heather look for jobs and their own place.

Mrs. Marter approves of Zito: “He’s really a nice and kind-hearted person. They really seem to get along well and bring out the best in each other. They never would’ve met if it hadn’t been for the show!”

The twenty-something couple even have their own YouTube channel, “TheReelW0rld.”  From one showing Zito’s day at the mall dressed as a guido to another showing his failed attempt at eating tomatoes, the videos document their “everyday life after getting real on national TV,” as the channel’s description says. Marter and Zito are also raising money through the channel and through their Twitter accounts for the Susan G. Komen breast cancer walk that they’re doing in October.

“The Real World” wasn’t the sudden springboard to fame and fortune for Marter, who says that after appearing on that and “The Challenge” that she won’t do another reality show anytime soon. But she still feels that she came out a winner.

“I went into ‘The Real World’ with an open mind and an open heart,” says Marter. “You don’t want to put everything into one bucket. We happened organically. It didn’t hit us and we didn’t realize what we meant to each other until after the show.”

by Myles Tanzer

On a Saturday night in mid-February, a slightly oily young man in a white tank-shirt stood outside of Splash bar in Chelsea, smoking a cigarette, “I can’t wait for this bitch to show up,” he said to a friend, adding, “She better get here soon because I’m wasted.” He was one of the 100 plus guys, and a small handful of girls at this gay nightclub, who came to dance, drink, and see the night’s main attraction, Angela Raiola.

Better known as “Big Ang,” Angela Raiola is a star of VH1′s “Mob Wives.” The nickname fits perfectly because everything about Raiola is big: her height, her hair, her weight, and her voice. Although not as successful as “Jersey Shore,” “Mob Wives” recently started its second season with higher ratings then ever before. Casual observers chalk that up to the cast addition of “Big Ang,” who fills the role of “the funny best friend” with spectacular ease.

Her humor isn’t just for the cameras. When the impossibly tanned Raiola and her fellow “Mob Wife” Renee Graziano, stroll into Splash at midnight, Raiola immediately jumps on top of a platform and starts dancing with one of black-brief-clad-gogo boys. The crowd goes wild and cheers as the duo tosses back some shots presented by one of the club’s faceless and next-to-naked employees. Renee grabs the mic and repeats over and over, “I love gay men.” The crowd turns into an outright mob scene when she baits the crowd, “If you love Big Ang, let me hear you scream.” The noise is deafening.

After the suicide of Real Housewives reality star Russell Armstrong, New York Times columnist, Virginia Hefferman questioned, “Why play the reality game?” Angela Raiola is the physical embodiment of Hefferman’s witty answer, “Same reason people play game shows or the lottery: You might win.”

Raiola knows that she’s lucky to get this chance to win. Asked if she’s surprised by her fame, she shoots back quickly, “I’m 52 years old. You stay home you cook, you run your bar. It’s over.” She’s extremely observant of the constantly rotating amount of people around her. She compliments a lot of people on their clothes (she tells the bar’s owner “Did you hear me, I like your pants, fucker!”)

After her table dancing, Raiola takes a break in Splash’s VIP lounge, and looks perfectly happy in her black faux-biker jacket. In person, her 36J boobs are even bigger than they appear to be on TV. Her lips, which she admitted to Radar Online are pumped with injections, look like penny candy wax lips. Her unmistakable raspy voice sounds more like a frog’s croak. Strangely, she’s kind of beautiful though. Her eyes are really soft even though there is black makeup permanently chalked around them. Glued to her right hand is a long brown Marlboro cigarillo. She says that she’s been smoking for 37 years and started when she stole cigarettes from her now deceased dad, another longtime smoker.

Raiola grew up in Brooklyn and never went to high school. She explains that she started working at bars when she was young and that school just wasn’t for her. “I still fucking hate school,” she says and adds intimately, “When I had to take my kids to school, it was always a fucking burden. But I did it every day for their whole lives. They both graduated high school and have masters’ degrees.”

Raiola is related to Salvatore “Sally Dogs” Lombardi, a leader of the Genovese crime family. They were one of the “five families” that controlled organized crime in New York. Asher Sarnoff from the Museum of the American Gangster didn’t know “Sally Dogs” off the top of his head but said that the Genovese crime family was the richest, the oldest, and the most connected family with the most streams of revenue.

Her on-screen foul mouth, love of “wise guys” and mob lifestyle comes under fire from Italian American organizations who believe that “Mob Wives” portrays a negative stereotype of Italian Americans to the public. Raiola doesn’t want to hear it though, “That’s bullshit, that’s 1900′s shit, it’s 2012 get over it.”

Before she was cast on Mob Wives, Raiola says that things weren’t going so well for her. Her Staten Island bar, The Drunken Monkey, wasn’t doing very much business. Now they’ve had to remodel the entire place to keep up with the ever-expanding crowd. The Smoking Gun reports that in 2001, Raiola was indicted on six cocaine charges. She was given three years probation after pleading guilty to the charges. A sickness from around the clock smoking kept getting worse and worse. When she debuted on the show, her laugh had changed into a horse hissing noise that was unrecognizable to her. The gross sick-laugh made her a star.

The gay community has quickly embraced “Big Ang” as a camp icon. Her look is over exaggerated and reminiscent of drag culture. She appeared on the cover of Next Magazine, a gay nightlife focused weekly publication, dressed as Marilyn Monroe. She claims that she’s no stranger to the gay community, “I’ve always had a gay following” she says. At every bar she’s ever managed, she’s made a “gay night” for the past 20 years. She’s shifted it to a monthly promotion recently because of low attendance, but the gesture is very important to her.

As she sits in the small private room downstairs at Splash, “Big Ang” takes a moment to calm down and get away from the madness upstairs. In her left hand, she clutches a glass of peach Ciroc vodka mixed with water, which happens to be one of her “four drinks” – a roster of four drinks that she chooses to order at bars.

She’s in the early stages of her fame but the excitement around “Ang,” as everyone calls her, is palpable. The VIP section in Splash is filled with a few young gay men attached to the club, some people who “work with the girls,” but most noticeably are her friends. Angelina Malerba, who Raiola calls her best friend, has known “Big Ang” for 20 years. They met at Malerba’s popular Staten Island eatery, Angelinas Restaurant. She says that Raiola’s fame is long overdue. “She should have been a star many, many years ago,” she says. “I always told her, ‘You’re gonna be a movie star, you’re own character,’ it was only a matter of time.”

Now that she has her fame, “Big Ang” isn’t letting it go of it so fast. She started talking about the plans for her spinoff show excitedly until her publicist cut her off. A “Big Ang” perfume line and handbag line are also being considered. Her lips move apart to reveal a giant smile and she says proudly, “We’re doing it all – everything. You got that? Everything all of it.” With a tap of her cigarillo onto the floor, she says that word one last time, “Big.”

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“Are you from ‘Unique Sweets?’”

Young leans in, grinning. “Yes, that’s me!”

“I recognized your voice!” the fan says, clapping her hands together.

Young returns to his work. “When I did ‘Top Chef’ I had absolutely no idea that I would actually get recognized,” he says, recalling his television debut on the show’s pastry spin-off, “Top Chef: Just Desserts.”  As the fan heads off to catch her train, Young confesses, his smile now gone: “I hate the customer service aspect,” he says. “I don’t have the patience to deal with people.” A pastry chef by training and profession, he’d much rather remain in the kitchen than out front.

Life for Young has been a blur since the debut of Bravo’s reality television show “Top Chef: Just Desserts” in 2010, which brought him unexpected fame. Though already known in the pastry industry for his creative and quirky desserts, Young soon discovered that his new found fame meant getting recognized on the street by strangers, cutting the line at New York City clubs and flying across the country for special appearances for popular food festivals. The fame also means that he’s working harder than ever. While putting in 75 hours weekly as executive pastry chef at Flex Mussels he is also filming new episodes the Cooking Channel’s “Unique Sweets,” a show that explores the creative concoctions of pastry chefs across America. Despite all the publicity, Young says that he works hard to keep his ego in check, making time for his close friends and an occasional night out on the town. His continued popularity hasn’t gone to his head – at least not entirely.

Young is very self-aware, with a winning personality and charming smile. But a contagious laugh can only get you so far. When Young signed up for “Top Chef,” he was trying to prove to himself that he had the pure talent to succeed when positioned against other well-known pastry professionals. “People liked me in the industry,” he said, “But I didn’t know if they liked me because I’m wacky and kind of out there, or because they liked my cooking.” And though he was eliminated from the competition on the second-to-last episode, Young believes he achieved his goal.

Baking wasn’t always his passion. Originally from Portland, Maine, 22-year-old Young, armed with a musical theater degree, headed to New York City and landed a job working in the wig department at Radio City Music Hall. Growing up in a vegan household, Young wasn’t exposed to many of the sweet after-dinner delights that accompany most meals. He did however have one guilty pleasure: “I was really into eating cookies,” he said. So he thought he’d give baking a try. “Instead of following the recipe I started making changes and through that I had some resounding failures,” he said. But after toying with his new creations, Young finally produced classic treats with exciting twists – like peanut butter and chocolate-covered pretzel cookies. “I liked the chemistry of the recipes; you can only push your recipe so far,” he said.

His obsession became so extreme that Young was staying up till the early morning hours baking treats that he shared with his coworkers the next day. When a friend asked to buy a batch of his cookies Young realized he could make a career out of baking. Leaving Radio City behind in 2004, Young went to culinary school and learned the classic elements of the art of pastry.

While he’s garnered a reputation as a skilled and creative pastry chef, Young tries not to take himself too seriously. Cracking eggs in his small workspace in the Flex Mussels kitchen on the Upper West Side, Young laughs with the other cooks asking for plastic wrap in Spanish, offering a “gracias” and shining grin to the Latino chef.

Flex Mussels is known for two things: seafood and dessert. Though Young is not always at the restaurants, his name is on every dessert plate that leaves the kitchen, so quality is important. “There’s a higher expectation when you are high profile,” Young said. “If I walk into the kitchen and something is wrong I get frustrated.”

A self-described control freak, Young must abdicate a lot of responsibility to others as he juggles his various projects. Maintaining a nearly 3,000-follower Twitter page and developing his first cookbook keeps him busy outside the kitchen, but no matter his current preoccupations, Young never loses sight of what made him famous: his talent. “I’m known for doing my job, and I’d prefer it that way,” he said. “But on the flipside, I need to rely on this fan base for my next projects.”

Reality television fame may be the key to Young’s continued success post “Top Chef: Just Desserts.” Deborah Jerymn, professor and author of “Understanding Reality Television” explains that fans of reality TV are drawn to the shows for various reasons. “They may be curious about ‘normal’ people, but they may also be curious about ‘others,’” she said. “ [and] the opportunity to take a peek at people who have different values, cultures, lifestyles from themselves.” For this reason, food-loving fans are drawn to shows like “Top Chef” because they want to know more about the daily lives of professional chefs and to watch them in action under stressful circumstances.

Young is quick to point out that being well known does have its drawbacks. While he is happy that he draws crowds to Flex Mussels because of his talents behind a mixing bowl, Young prefers to stay in the kitchen when working. “It is a bit stressful when people come to the restaurant and ask to see me,” he said. “I’m not on the menu. You can’t order me. I can’t be brought out to the table. I’m working.” And yet he still makes numerous nightly trips to the dining room to take pictures with “Top Chef” fans and greet other high-profile guests like friend and “Top Chef: Just Desserts” judge Gale Gand.

At midday, Young left the donut shop in Grand Central Station and made his way to Flex Mussels. Coincidentally, his first task was to prepare yet another a batch of donuts, totaling over 1,000 for the day. Young leaves the restaurant at 12:30 in the morning. His day started 16 hours earlier and tomorrow will prove to be just as long. For better or worse, Young’s life has changed in many ways since “Top Chef: Just Desserts.” Young has learned that with fame comes added pressure, but the satisfaction of being center stage may in fact be worth the 75 hour work weeks.