About

Hi, I’m Vivian — and I’ve been making my home feel like me since I was nine years old.

“I want the color to make my room feel cooler and airier.” That was me, sitting in on my parents’ meeting with our interior designer in Taipei, holding paint chips and absolutely certain about the baby blue. I was nine. I didn’t know what interior design was — I just knew that a space could make you feel something.

My parents remodeled our home three times growing up. Each time, they pulled me in a little deeper — let me pick the colors, weigh in on the furniture, choose the light fixtures. By the time I was a teenager I understood something most people don’t figure out until much later: the way a space looks and feels is not just decoration— it’s why home DIY became my obsession. It’s an extension of who you are. (Some of my friends call me Vivs, by the way — and you’re welcome to!)

Fast forward to my mid-twenties. I’d just moved in with my then-boyfriend, and he had two desks pushed side by side — one brown, one black. Different designs, different colors, just sitting there offending me daily. They were his things, so replacing them wasn’t really the move. But I couldn’t just live with it either. I started researching and found peel-and-stick wallpaper — transformed both desks in an afternoon into a matching light oak finish. The moment I stepped back and looked at what I’d done, something clicked. Not just “that looks better” — but “I did that. I fixed that. I have control over this.” I’ve been a DIY girlie ever since. (He’s my husband now. The desks are long gone but I like to think that makeover was the start of something.)

That feeling became addictive in the best way. When we moved into our first home — a small old rental with a long wishlist — I decided it was finally time to try a circular saw. I had three things I wanted to build, so I figured I might as well invest in the tools and learn. A barn door. Shoe cubby doors. Floating makeup vanity drawers. It was intimidating at first. Turns out I was more capable than I thought. My husband was there for the safety briefings and the instruction manual read-throughs — bless him — but once I had the tools in hand, woodworking became very much my thing. He still gets recruited when I need an extra pair of hands, some height, or a little extra muscle. Mostly he lets me do my thing and cheers from a safe distance, which honestly is the perfect arrangement.

Three years ago we bought our first home together — a three-story townhouse in LA. For the first time, I wasn’t building for a space I’d eventually leave. I was building for keeps. Custom wood trims for the kitchen island. A balcony sofa and coffee table. Custom garage shelving. And my personal favorite — a stone-look, cloud-shaped coffee table in our living room that stops every new visitor in their tracks. Friends of friends have asked to buy it. The answer is always no. It cost a fraction of what it looks like it’s worth, took about 11 hours in the garage, and it’s the first thing I built that made me feel like a real maker. It stays.

Oh — and about a year ago, we welcomed Miumiu into the family. He’s a cat. He has opinions about furnitures. Some of my design decisions now factor in a small creature who will absolutely scratch, knock over, or sit directly on whatever I just finished. A design challenge I’m more than willing to take.

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I’m also a working actor — which means my schedule is wonderfully, chaotically unpredictable. Booked the day before. Call times at 8pm the night before. I’ve had weeks of back-to-back jobs where my clothes were scattered everywhere and my husband wouldn’t dare touch anything in case it was needed for continuity on set. After one of those weeks — sleep-deprived, plans cancelled on all my friends, space a complete mess — I hit a wall. I didn’t know where to start putting my life back together.

So I stopped thinking and started moving. Laundry. Declutter. Shower. Stretch. And then I lit a candle and looked at my clean, quiet space — and I felt okay again. That was the moment I understood it both ways: your home reflects your inner state, but you can also work it in reverse. Change your space. Change your mood. When my brain is tangled, I tidy. When I want more energy, I rearrange. When I need a reset, I make something. I’ve used that tool deliberately ever since — and it genuinely works.

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Vivs Made exists because I’ve always documented my projects — sometimes just for myself, sometimes because I was proud and wanted to show someone. And people kept asking: “Where did you get that paint?” “How did you pick that color?” “Wait, you built that?” I wanted one clean place to answer all of it. And with our townhouse ready for a proper refresh — my style has evolved, I’m in an “I’m here to stay” headspace now — the timing finally felt right.

This is a space for real DIY at a real scale. Not the kind that needs a contractor, a free weekend, or a budget that makes your eyes water. The kind you can pull off on a Saturday afternoon with the right tools, a good playlist, and the confidence that your home should feel exactly like you — lived in, intentional, and completely yours. No perfection required. Actually, perfection is kind of the enemy here.

Welcome to Vivs Made. Pull up a chair — the coffee table’s homemade.

— Vivian