I'm Liza
And the inside folded into one of the lives I let slip past.
Writing myself into existence
Some people see fashion, marketing, and culture as separate worlds. I see them as one conversation- about desire, identity, and the stories that shape us. I’m drawn to those narratives—the feminist undercurrents in fashion history, the psychology behind desire, the cultural weight of a single image.
Understanding what moves people, what stories endure, what beauty means—that’s how I make sense of the world. Where consumer psychology brushes against feminist theory. Where a brand campaign and a period drama’s wardrobe speak the same language about power, femininity, and cultural moment. I live at these intersections—translating intuition into strategy, turning cultural observation into brand stories that resonate.
● Thailand, 2025
● Thailand, 2025
● Sri Lanka, 2025
December 15th, 2025 — Koh Samet
I’ve attempted this section more times than I care to admit.
Strange, isn’t it? I knew exactly what I wanted to say, why this site needed to exist, and when to launch it. Yet somehow, translating that mountain of emotion and reasoning into actual words felt impossible. Who knew these two simple words—”About Me”—would become the most exhilarating yet difficult part of building this space?
After several failed attempts from my workspace back home, staring out my window for inspiration that never came, I decided to let it rest. I saved it for last. Until now.
I’m writing this from Koh Samet, watching the ocean stretch endlessly before me. There’s something about being here—the waves, the wind, the way the air tastes different—that made everything I’d been circling finally land. My words needed a whim, a bit of salty water, a burning stare from the sun to coax them out of hiding and dance onto the screen.
Funny enough, romanticizing the sea has never been my thing. I’ve always been a mountain person—give me the Himalayas any day. I know you’re not supposed to choose between them, but once you get close enough to both, your heart quietly places one ahead of the other. It’s like choosing a favorite parent—both vast enough to hold everything you are, both leaving something behind in your bones you’ll never quite name. The choice was never yours to make. It makes itself.
But here, with my eyes closed and that long gulp of salty air filling my lungs, something shifted. I’d been swimming all day until the light changed—stayed in through the heat, through the softening, through the burn, through the dimming, until the light turned kind and the ocean stopped being something I swam in and became something that carried me. Now there’s salt drying in my hair, sand I haven’t brushed away, fingers wrinkled like I’ve been holding onto something far too long.
Tardei in Rodrigo Amarante’s voice—all salt and sorrow—playing low in the background, and it’s here, exactly like this, that this thing I’ve been trying to build—this space that’s been forming in my mind for so long—suddenly felt real. I stopped trying to summarize what it all means, stopped searching for the perfect words to capture everything it is and everything it will become. My emotions took charge, sorting through words one by one until everything fell into place. I just felt it: everything has led me here, to this point, and the words are finally pouring out. What you’re reading now is the rawest version of me—the idea of me made tangible, the realest form I can offer.
So, Who Am I?
I’m an eccentric, slightly obsessed individual who sees the world through a prism. Sometimes it’s plain black and white. Other times, through a crooked mirror that reflects beauty in the simplest things. And occasionally, through a gilded glass that reveals the ugliest realities of mankind.
I analyze everything. Every gesture, every word, every drop of ink on paper, every stroke on a porcelain cup, every bead in a satin slip, every shot in a cinematic frame, every jingle in a commercial—it all takes me somewhere new. Discussions, late-night strolls with my partner or friends, endless talks that never quite conclude- sometimes conversations alone aren’t enough. I try so hard to make sense of things that sometimes I need a bigger canvas just to lay it all out.
I learned very early on that we’re all living, breathing stream of memory, story, and imagination. We see meaning in every twist and turn, yet we choose either to live with it or tuck it away in the spice boxes of our minds. Some of us face these memories head-on, taking them out occasionally to mix with new experiences. Others become guards at the guest house, keeping certain things locked away. Maybe we’re not always the best judges of which memories to revisit, which to blend with the present. Sometimes they make us toss and turn at night anyway.
I’m the former kind. I ask questions. I ask and ask and ask. Facing these things makes life feel tangible in a way it doesn’t otherwise. Though lately, I’ve started asking myself something else: Why should we know everything?
Maybe knowing everything isn’t the point. But sorting through the meanings, finding connections in the chaos, piecing together the beautiful and the broken—that’s what makes me feel alive. That’s why I needed this space.
That’s why I write.
Writing is my way of thinking aloud—slowly, carefully, until something clicks into place. It’s how I understand the world: brands that become cultural forces, films that reveal more than their plots, fashion as a mirror to history, the psychology beneath our desires. I write because I can’t help but ask why—why certain brands feel inevitable, why a character matters, why some stories about women endure while others fade, what drives us to desire what we desire.
I work in marketing, which means I’ve learned to see how narratives are built, how desire is shaped, how things catch on. But the analyzing part? That’s just how I’m wired. I’ve always been the person connecting dots- an ad campaign to a cultural shift, a costume detail to a power dynamic, a trend to whatever anxiety is bubbling underneath, linking a throwaway line in a film to a larger political movement, tracing why certain aesthetics resurface when they do, asking what our desires are actually telling us.
I’m a marketer who writes, or maybe a writer who markets. Either way, I’m here to explore what makes things matter—to find the story beneath the story.
Every piece here is me working something out, trying to articulate what I noticed but couldn’t yet name.
That’s also why I needed this space. A place for all these scattered pieces—observations pinned like Polaroids on a wall, thoughts sketched in margins, questions scribbled on napkins. Where nothing needs to be polished to matter. A place where scattered thoughts and unfinished observations can sit beside each other without explanation. Where the mess is honest, not just an accident. Where the mess is part of the meaning.
Why- How Boho?
You’re probably wondering about the name. It doesn’t exactly scream “film analysis”, “marketing,” or “feminist discourse,” does it? But that’s precisely the point. Boho—bohemian—has always been about the unconventional, the eclectic mix of things that shouldn’t work together but somehow do. It’s layered, textured, and a little messy in the most intentional way. It’s vintage photographs next to modern poetry, earthy tones mixed with unexpected bursts of color, patterns that clash and complement in the same breath.
That’s how I see the world, and that’s how I write about it. My thoughts don’t fit neatly into categories. A post about a film might weave into fashion, which spirals into human behavior, and also somehow touches on politics. Everything’s connected through invisible threads, like macramé knotted together by meaning rather than design.
This space is my bigger canvas—relaxed, bold, free-spirited. Here, you’ll find my thoughts on films, feminism, books, fashion, trends, psychology, human behavior, politics, design, nature—the things that catch light differently when you pay attention. These aren’t polished essays or definitive answers. They’re explorations, musings, attempts to make sense of the beautiful, complicated world we inhabit. Think of it as a curated collection of observations, some raw and unfinished, others more refined, but all undeniably mine.
Consider this your invitation to linger in the details that reveal something more—the frames, the fabrics, the footnotes—to see the world through my peculiar prism, even if just for a moment
Welcome. I'm glad you're here.
My mind doesn’t stay in lanes. A brand’s positioning strategy reminds me of a film’s subtext. Consumer psychology connects to feminist theory. Fashion history explains current cultural moments. Marketing taught me to build narratives; curiosity taught me to question them. My writing maps how I actually think—across disciplines, finding patterns, asking why things resonate or fade.