The temperature is holding steady at chilly 32 F. Floridian farmers are predicting citrus doomsday. Still, any night, apocalyptic or not, is a good night to party in Miami. Inside STK, the long-awaited, newly opened steakhouse at the Gansevoort South, an animated ambiance, fueled by strawberry rhubarb concoctions and all flavors of eye candy, comes to a sudden halt. Heads turn and conversations dissipate, as Katrina Campins, Donald Trump’s would-be apprentice, and workaholic in residence on Bravo TV’s Miami Social, the show about clique of young professionals navigating the local scene and all the drama that surrounds it, sashays down the long glassed mezzanine. All legs and bouncy hair, she’s well aware of the gazes.

('’)Recognized in Realtor Magazine as a "Top 30 under 30,” Katrina is a self-professed careerist, on a mission to use her TV projects to get her real estate deals done. How does shooting the breeze with her TV ‘friends’ on the Gansevoort Hotel’s rooftop help her sell luxury pads? It all comes down to image and Katrina has the Donald to thank for that lesson. “Trump always told me that your name is all you’ve got, so you have to brand it,” she replies texting away on her overused Blackberry.

Of course I would do second season, Ariel confesses.

Ariel Stein, decked out in Marc Jacobs tux and bowtie, amens that with a snap. Ari’s a handsome man, with a semi-flamboyant attitude that seems at odds with how he remembers growing up, ridiculed as a, shall we say, plump young boy in an orthodox Jewish home. “Don’t get me wrong, I love where I came from, but that world doesn’t mix well with where I am today,” he says. Today, in addition to being the mastermind of something called the ‘Wearable Towel,’ a beachy cousin to a ‘Snuggie,’ Ariel is a model for party boys worldwide. “No one really believed in me. I went from a club kid to a model to a producer to an inventor. Soon I will head my own empire, with perfume, lighters, fashion line, you name it.” Well, no one’s ever said modesty was a key to empire building.

Ariel has his share of critics. Not due to his healthy ego or documented distaste for ugly, but because some doubt the integrity of his professional credentials. But he expects nothing more. “You could never become a star in your own village. There are too many haters, who are dying of jealousy,” Ariel says, delighted that his antics may have landed him a spin-off.

Frequent center of attention Katrina Campins never misses a chance to network, as Ariel looks on.

When Katrina and Ariel’s arrive at Louis, a nightclub, also inside the Gansevoort, flashes and iPhone cameras go off. Two girls from Georgia, lurking at the bar, debate whether they should ask for autographs. We bump into Hardy Hill, a cast mate and reality TV veteran with soft porn to his credit, who despite proclamations of entrepreneurial acumen and enviable social skills is really a promoter, moonlighting as manager at the David Barton Gym.

Step aside people. Katrina and Ariel enter Louis

At Living Room, W Hotel’s bar lounge, George French, the high-powered mortgage banker with case of Turret’s syndrome and a crazy Russian girlfriend with a knife fetish, does his best, entirely uncalled for Leonardo DiCaprio impression. Word on the beach is that in an ironic twist of fate, this mortgage expert lost his condo, along with his dignity, to foreclosure. Even the Gansevoort, the epicenter of all Miami Social activities, will soon be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Now that’s drama for real.

A brief walk from Living Room to the club Wall, and Katrina has had enough. She doesn’t do cold, and in her defense, it really is freezing. Even the almighty bouncers are hiding in the lobby. Still the business of natural selection must go on. In the manner of Moses parting the Red Sea, the doorman unhook a velvet rope and Katrina and Ariel are granted their mega entrance as the B crowd patiently waits its turn. Soon Ariel will board a plane to promote Season One overseas, and Katrina will try to get a namesake charity off the ground. But tonight they are big stars in a small pond, and the DJ is playing their favorite song.

All photography by Douglas Voisin.