My Life In The Reality TV Wringer

Few entertainers have shaped the modern reality-star playbook like Ariana Madix. Across her 11 seasons on Bravo’s Vanderpump Rules, she was a grounding and relatable presence in a sea of capital-C characters, someone who was never above the drama of the show but also clearly destined for more outside it. And when the glare of the spotlight cranked up in 2023 and hastened her exit, she was ready to meet the moment — and finally showcase the talents she’d long been honing. That year, after placing third on Dancing With the Stars, she booked a starring turn as Roxie Hart in the Broadway musical Chicago. Though Madix wasn’t the first reality star to join the long-running production, her debut in early 2024 helped the show set a record for its highest nonholiday-week gross at the time. And while she’s continued on with other scripted work — including a multi-episode stint on NBC’s mockumentary sitcom St. Denis Medical — she didn’t close the door on reality TV, either. In 2024, she took over as host of Love Island USA, where she guides contestants with the sisterly affection of someone who knows all too well what it’s like to have your most intimate (and painful) moments flashed in front of America. A few weeks before reporting to Fiji for the dating show’s eighth season, premiering June 2 on Peacock, Madix, 40, looks back on how she got here.

I wanted to act my whole life. I went to school for theater and moved to New York in 2007 to try to be on Broadway, but after a few years, I had a come-to-Jesus moment. I didn’t have representation. I didn’t have family connections. I was acting — in web series and sketch videos — but not on stage. I could sense the lines between TV, movies, and stage were already blurring: Katie Holmes was making her Broadway debut in All My Sons; celebrities were cycling through Chicago. I realized that if I didn’t start getting TV credits, I wasn’t going to be able to do what I wanted to do. And if I didn’t move to L.A. to get them, then I would probably need to choose a different career path.

Still, I didn’t want to leave New York, so a friend and I wrote out a whole pros-and-cons list of moving to L.A. Some of the items were funny, like “L.A. has amazing Mexican food! But New York has better high-end restaurants!” I don’t even know why that mattered — it’s not like I could afford them anyway. So L.A. won out by a slim margin.

I moved to Hollywood in 2010 and got a job off Craigslist working as a cocktail waitress at The Laugh Factory. I also started taking acting classes under Lesly Kahn, a well-known teacher out there, while I looked for representation. Some really incredible people were in that acting program with me. Isaiah Mustafa, the Old Spice guy, was in my class — he later helped me get a job at a nightclub that allowed me to move out of the depths of brokenness. Lesly would tell us, “Find people who are like you but ahead of where you are now. Don’t go looking for Tom Cruise’s manager. That’s a losing game.” I don’t remember who my exact reference points were back then, but I do remember when I would audition for a job and not get the part, it almost always went to either Aly or AJ Michalka, Ashley Tisdale, or Malin Akerman.

I sent out my resume and headshots, cold-called managers I found on IMDbPro, and ended up getting a meeting with the same manager I have today. This was pre-Vanderpump Rules, pre-everything, but he believed in me. There were times when I would book a job that didn’t really pay well — I wasn’t even in the Screen Actors Guild yet — and he would say, “You don’t have to pay me the commission. You need the money.” If he hadn’t seen the vision all those years ago, I don’t know how I would’ve been able to get to where I am.

I ended up getting a job at Villa Blanca, one of Lisa Vanderpump’s restaurants, because a friend’s talent manager had an office right above it and saw a sign that they were hiring. I thought, “Well, I’m a very skilled bartender coming from New York, and I need another job to pay the bills.” That’s how it all started.

When I was first approached about joining Vanderpump Rules, though, I didn’t want to do it. There were a lot of people in my life, including my boyfriend at the time, who hated reality TV and felt very passionately that everyone who does it is trash. Scheana Shay would invite me to events like her birthday, and I’d always say no to because they were being filmed. It was months and months of declining. But one time, I had the opportunity to be a dancer for Scheana when she performed at the Roxy in Season 1, and I jumped at it: I’m dancing on TV! I have a dancing gig! I didn’t realize the dancing was just a backdrop — they wanted me to be a part of the scene. I remember being so scared of what my then-boyfriend was going to say to me that day. But at the same time, I’d just gotten a $70 parking ticket that was going to overdraft me. The whole situation just felt precarious.

“The belief for so long was that if you did reality TV, that wiped the slate clean of everything else you’re good at or passionate about.”

When I got a solid offer to do the show, I went to Lesly Kahn about it. Lesly told me to look around at all the class photos in the acting studio. Nicole Scherzinger is in one. Jay Ellis is in one. These were people who took opportunities that were in front of them and made them what they wanted them to be. Nicole Scherzinger is this incredible classically trained performer. The Pussycat Dolls came along, and she said yes — and look what she’s turned it into. Plus, I had seen Jamie Chung come out of The Real World San Diego and build an acting career for herself. Jamie, to me, was the blueprint. So when Lesly said, “Just do it — as long as you are yourself, you’ll be fine,” that was all the encouragement I needed.

For the first few seasons, I was terrified. I’m a Cancer, so I’m a bit quiet when I’m around people who I don’t know well, and I think that came across as I’m too cool for this. Meanwhile, I’m sitting at home overthinking and overanalyzing. I was always really bad about saying what I think in a succinct way. I still am — I’m becoming less concise by the day. I’ll talk about something for so long it doesn’t even make sense anymore. I really wish I’d had one of those emotions charts because in reality TV, you really have to be able to name the feeling. I’m also really bad at interrupting people, because in a scripted situation, you wouldn’t want to step on someone’s line.

Making reality television definitely feels like work. You show up to the shooting location, head to whatever room production’s set up in, put your purse down, and get mic’d up. A producer comes over: “How are you feeling about what happened last night?” It’s a bit like clocking into your shift and checking in with your boss. You also have to keep certain logistics in mind, particularly about clothing. You can’t rewear outfits because it’s bad for continuity — it might make two separate scenes look like they were filmed on the same day. So as you’re getting ready to shoot a season, you’re trying to make sure you have enough clothes to tape all the different scenes and activities. When I moved recently, I was struck by how many clothes I held onto because I’d think “Wait, I might need this for a confessional” or “This will look good if I’m sitting down and talking.”

“I always find it funny when I see a comment about a woman on TV, picking apart small things like ‘her outfit is ugly’ or ‘could never be me.’ You sure about that?”

Of course, there are a lot of moments when filming reality TV definitely beats having a regular day job. You go on trips you never would have been able to afford. You stay in hotels you never would have stayed in otherwise. Once we were in Mexico and rode ATVs, which I’ve always wanted to do but never would have planned for myself. Yes, it’s exhausting, and yes, you might have to have a hard conversation with your partner on-camera, but at the end of the day, you’re having a lot of fun.

On Vanderpump, everyone on the cast was trying to “make it” in Hollywood somehow, but it was hard to put that front and center on camera. In terms of what works for the show, a scene needs to involve more than one cast member for producers to care about shooting it at all. They’re also not going to necessarily shoot you pursuing your dreams in a way that takes it seriously for you — they’re going to put the plucking violin strings behind it and make you look like a dummy most of the time. And then in terms of licensing, you can’t sing other people’s music and can’t perform other people’s writing, so filming an acting class doesn’t work unless the acting teacher is writing the scene or it’s in the public domain, like Shakespeare.

I basically gave up on showcasing those skills on camera and just kept plugging away with classes and auditions. I met with what felt like every agency, and a lot of them passed on representing me because, being my late 20s and early 30s, I was too old to be what they call a “developmental client.” But then, even if an audition went well, I’d still often get turned down because I wasn’t an established enough name. And other times, I’d get a no because they thought I was too recognizable from the show. I got stuck in a loop.

“When people are confident they’re having a good season, they’re probably having a bad season.”

I remember thinking, “Well, bartending is a skill that I have — what can I do with that?” And funnily enough, what eventually got me out of that loop was writing my first cocktail book. I wrote it with author Danny Pellegrino, who was represented by the literary and talent agency now known as A3. Through writing the book, I was able to make connections with other people at A3 and get representation. And then when one of the biggest agencies out there, Gersh, acquired a few of A3’s departments, my agents moved over there, and now I’m repped across the board by Gersh. Sometimes, you’re just planting a seed and watering it and hoping it will grow into something. I just had to believe that every time I showed up and did a good job, someone would want to give me another job. That’s always been my MO.

I don’t think any of us in the early days really knew that Vanderpump would go on for as long as it did, just because most shows didn’t. We were lucky. People always say your third or fourth season is when you actually start making money. That’s when I started making enough from the show alone to pay my rent and most bills. It’s also when I realized it had become a job that was affording me other opportunities — even if those opportunities were different from what I thought I would be doing.

There was a time in 2023, after the 10th season of Vanderpump Rules, when I started to get a lot of offers for brand deals and commercials, like the Duracell ad I did. My team and I decided there was only going to be one, maybe two, things that referenced anything having to do with what was happening around the show that year — and that would be it. I’ve still never even spoken it by name. There are a lot of things we say no to because it doesn’t align with that, or asks me to do things I’m not comfortable with. I turned down a Super Bowl commercial this year. For me, it’s a question of: Does this move the needle the way I want to move the needle?

And, look, at the same time, I had spent all my money on a new house, furnishings, and opening a business — I needed money. And some of these deals were incredible because they were actual commercials that allowed me to showcase my acting ability. I’m not a content creator. When a brand offer comes in that’s self-shot, I don’t know how to do that! That’s advice I’d give to Love Islanders coming out of the Villa now: If you get an offer from a brand, make sure it’s showcasing what you love — whether that’s singing, dancing, acting, skateboarding, whatever.

I did a spot for Sonic with Ciara Miller this year, and we’ve talked a little about navigating that kind of moment. I reminded her that she is the prize, she is the moment, and when she’s navigating brand deals, they need her more than she needs them: You have the power, so don’t ever feel like you don’t.

Meanwhile, I kept dreaming of Broadway. There had been conversations over the years, but nothing that came to the level of a firm offer. Still, I felt it was going to happen at some point, so for me, it was always about not getting ready but staying ready. When I got the chance to do Chicago in 2023, it did cross my mind to wonder how much they wanted me for me, but I also love when people underestimate me. So even if a producer had said, “Oh, let’s get Ariana Madix from TV, people are talking about her right now” — OK! Great! And then I’m going to show up, I’m going to be f*cking awesome, and you’re going to be like, “Oh, wow, she’s actually legit!”

I look back at my runs in the show now and wish that I would’ve maybe paid more attention to everything outside of it. I was so nervous and by-the-book: Keep your head down, don’t have a sip of alcohol. I wish I would’ve lived in the success a little more. But I remember having conversations with people who seemed pleasantly surprised that I was able to perform the way that I did, and I could sense the doors opening a little more.

“There’s also a certain level of interpersonal conflict that I think is good to show on TV because it’s also what happens in real life.”

My time in Chicago unlocked a lot for me. I got calls from big agencies and companies that I probably wouldn’t have gotten before, but I love my team and wouldn’t want to change anything. I also had so many amazing meetings with people about what I wanted to make, what kind of ideas I had, and whether I wanted to be on screen or on stage or produce a show — and if anyone reading this is wondering, the answer to all of it is yes. But what the show really made me realize was how much of a student I still am and want to be. My ideal day-to-day is going from dance rehearsal to vocal lessons to acting rehearsal to being on stage. If my whole day looks like how it did in school, that’s the best life.

I do feel a little pride when I see other reality stars make the jump to Broadway. If people saw me do it and then viewed it as a possibility for themselves? That’s super cool. I’m so excited for Whitney Leavitt — she’s somebody who studied dance and then went on to do reality TV, but doing reality TV does not negate her skill. The belief for so long was that if you did reality TV, that wiped the slate clean of everything else you’re good at or passionate about. But now, people are realizing you can do both, and, honestly, a lot of the skills are transferable. When they talk about the 10,000-hours concept — however many hours that we filmed reality TV, that’s all on-camera experience that a lot of actors don’t get to have.

It’s hard to know how you come across on TV. You find that out mostly in real time. Sometimes when people are confident they’re having a good season, they’re probably having a bad season — at least from what I’ve witnessed. And when people think they’re having a bad season because everyone’s ganging up on them or excluding them, there’s something about an audience that will immediately want to root for that person.

On shows like Vanderpump or Real Housewives, where episodes air months after they were filmed, these up-and-down cycles can feel never-ending. There were times on the show when a friend and I would have a disagreement and make up on camera, but then, months later, I see their confessional and think, “That was mean.” Or Andy Cohen asks me about it on Watch What Happens Live, and we end up getting in a fight all over again — even though we already got over it a year ago.

“I was struck by how many clothes I held onto because I’d think ‘Wait, I might need this for a confessional’ or ‘This will look good if I’m sitting down and talking.’”

And it’s no fault to them. We’re all trying to make good TV and say funny things in our interviews and keep people watching. In real life, you just don’t necessarily have access to those thoughts. I might be walking around my house thinking about how somebody pissed me off — but no one else is hearing me say it, and that person doesn’t have to feel bad about hearing it because I worked it out on my own. It’s partly why I had such a hard time saying how I felt during filming. I was always ruminating: Is this going to be turned into something else?

You do start to feel the toll of that after a while, but you don’t necessarily realize the extent of that toll until you’re out of it for maybe a year, year and a half. I knew going into it that Season 11 was going to be my last season on Vanderpump, but it still took a long time for me to realize how it was affecting the way I thought, the way I interacted with friends. I’d find myself not trusting people: Are they making fun of me? Are they going to twist this?

Now on Love Island, I watch these cycles play out much faster. When there are new episodes almost every single day, it’s like the Islanders go through what an entire season or two of Housewives goes through in just a few weeks. So many episodes will end on a cliffhanger, and I’m always wishing the audience would have more patience before jumping down someone’s throat. They’ve got the pitchforks out and have decided this person is wrong, and I’m like: Just wait for the next episode! You’ll see that everything works out fine!

It’s great to be passionate about the shows you love. But people forget the viewers and cast members are all equally human. Sometimes viewers forget that they also annoy people and also are probably considered jerks by the people they argue with. And obviously there’s a certain level of behavior that should not be on television and should not be platformed, but there’s also a certain level of interpersonal conflict that I think is good to show on TV because it’s also what happens in real life. I always find it funny when I see a comment about a woman on TV, picking apart small things like “her outfit is ugly” or “could never be me,” and I just think, “You sure about that?”

If you’re trying to calculate the cost-benefit of reality TV — weighing all the fun and the opportunity against having me at my absolute worst immortalized for the rest of the time — I think the answer is yes, it was worth it. But it’s hard to imagine going all the way back to 2012 and thinking, “Well, what would have happened otherwise?” Do I think I’d be acting? Yes. Do I think I would’ve made it to Broadway? Maybe not yet. But I still would’ve been pursuing all the same things. And it opened up so many doors, not just for me personally, but also within the industry. I feel like I can show up to almost any set in Los Angeles and know somebody on the crew, which is my favorite thing.

It all goes to show that nobody gets to where they are alone, and the seemingly smallest interactions can have huge ripple effects. I look back on something like my friend making that list of pros and cons with me, and I’m just so grateful it happened. Because I can’t imagine: What if it didn’t?

If I could tell young Ariana or a future Love Islander one thing, it’s this: Honestly, start therapy now. And I don’t mean that reality TV is going to f*ck up your brain. I just think the sooner you start therapy, the more prepared you’re going to be for anything that comes at you. You’ll come out on the other side less scathed — plus, you’ll be able to talk about your feelings in a more concise way.

As told to Nolan Feeney.