After joining Sazze, I’ve been able to live out my dreams of doing this for a living, at least part-time. I’ve hosted events in Seoul, SF, NYC, and Boston, and have a lineup of events coming up through the end of the year (read to the end to find out more).

I knew that internally, the team has always joked about our fund being an “event company”. and since I’ve joined, our event activity has steeply increased.

But honestly? I think this is one of the most important things that I’m driving for the fund.

the market is already moving

There’s been a lot of discourse lately about the explosion of community and events roles across the tech ecosystem. Not entry-level coordinator stuff. More like senior, well-compensated, strategically important roles. Anthropic is hiring multiple marketing events leads at $400K/year. OpenAI is hiring an enterprise field events lead at $250K. a16z New Media is hiring an events partner at $250K. Nvidia is hiring a developer community manager at $430K.

Across the VC landscape, platform teams (the people who run events, manage community, and support founders beyond the check) are increasingly being seen as strategic differentiators rather than nice-to-haves. The logic is simple: in a market where capital is increasingly commoditized, the fund that can offer the best network, the best rooms, and the best introductions wins the deal.

But I think there’s something bigger happening here than just competitive differentiation. I think we’re in the middle of a genuine cultural shift, and events are where you feel it most clearly.

we’re desperately trying to be chronically offline again

Whatever happened in 2020 turned an entire generation of already-introverted tech people into full hermits. We optimized for WFH. We got very good at Slack and very bad at small talk. And then slowly, painfully, we remembered that the best things that happen in this industry happen in rooms, not online.

The energy at events right now is different from anything I experienced before moving to SF. People are hungry for it. They show up wanting to actually connect, not just collect connections on LinkedIn. The quality of conversation I’ve had at events in the last six months has been better than almost anything I’ve had on a Zoom call.

This is the moment to be chronically, intentionally offline. And the people and organizations who are creating those moments right now are building something that compounds.

what does the world cup have to do with all this?

In June, I co-hosted a Korea vs. Mexico World Cup watch party with Mike at Founders Inc., sponsored by the Korean Consulate in SF. It got featured as one of Luma SF’s events of the week. More than 800 people signed up. 400+ showed up.

Korea lost (my frustrations with the KFA is a topic I won’t get into here). We had KFC (Korean Fried Chicken) and Taco Bell. It was a dry event, so I had a beer or two before the game and had a blast regardless of the result. But something else happened that night that I didn’t expect: I met some of the coolest founders in the city, and we didn’t talk about BMs or exit strategies. We were all just watching a game together. The context collapsed the usual power dynamic. We weren’t investor and founder. We were just people who cared about the same thing for 90 minutes. Winning!

In between one of the hydration breaks, I introduced our portco’s founder to Mark, a seasonsed CPA professional I had met at a different event. Since that intro, Mark has been onboarded as an advisor to our portco. I also took content during the event which blew up, and was able to connect founders to other founders in the most organic way possible. (you can watch the reel here).

nyc calls for different vibes

The NYC event I hosted shortly after was a completely different format - for the right reasons.

I knew this event had to be more intentional, up-scale, and curated. Whereas the SF event was really for anyone who wanted to meet more people, I wanted this event to lead to immediate deal flow. When my friend Steven, who runs Mesh, reached out regarding an event opportunity at Maxwelll Social, I knew this woud be the perfect opportunity for such event.

Co-hosted with Ryan from 21st and Owen from Listen Ventures, The Build was intentionally curated: 100 builders, operators, and investors in one room. No keynotes, no panels, no soccer. Just people who build things, in a room together (with alchol this time lol).

The result: more than 10 meaningful post-event meetings with founders, several of whom are now moving toward due diligence. More importantly, Sazze now has a footprint in NYC that didn’t exist before that night.

switching it up

Here’s where I’ll say something that might be slightly controversial for a fund with a Korean-founder-only thesis: I’ve been pushing for us to widen our event audience beyond just Korean founders and operators.

Not because our thesis is wrong - it isn’t. But because the best thing we can do for Korean founders entering the US market is to make sure they’re in rooms with people who don’t look like them, don’t think like them, and can open doors they didn’t know existed. The Korea vs. Mexico watch party wasn’t just a Korean event. It was a room full of people from completely different backgrounds who found common ground in the most human way possible (rooting for the same team) and walked away with new connections neither side had anticipated.

I’m also pushing for younger rooms. Gen Z founders are building differently, pitching differently, and thinking about company-building differently than the playbook our industry was written around. If we want to find the best ones before everyone else does, we have to be in their spaces, speaking their language, running events that feel like something they’d actually want to attend.

what’s coming

September:

• a hackathon in SF.

• a panel on building AI startups with Hanwha.

• 3 days of events in Boston.

October: SF tech week stuff.

November: a Korean culture event.

And then March 2027, Fort Mason, 5,000+ people, two days. (this is our annual flagship event)

I keep myself busy running events like these because I genuinely believe that community is the highest-leverage thing a fund our size can invest in, and because every room I’ve been in this year has reminded me that the best deals, the best advisors, the best relationships don’t come from cold outreach.

They come from showing up!!!!!!!

xx
Grace

PS - if you’d like to stay up to date regarding the events we host, make sure to follow me on IG. :)

🍦froyo

The comment section was deeply invested in this one. To the guy who asked if froyo was even a thing anymore…you can take a seat.

There were 3 that were consistently mentioned:

1. Easy Breezy

2. Yuja

3. Souvla

Others mentioned include Foodhall and Loving Cup (available on doordash). I’ve personally had the froyo from Souvla more than 3 times and it’s pretty solid (I do their cherry sauce + baklava crumble). I ran to try Yuja the other day and absolutely hated it (I had two bites and tossed it). The bar is high since I’m used to madison fare/mimi’s/butterfield and the trusty old pinkberry so we’ll see if easy breezy’s going to be the one.

🍸 (dirty gin) martinis

After having what turned out to be one of the most disappointing dirty gin martinis at Monte’s Bar, the question had to be asked.

Top recs:

• Bar Maritime also has the best Caesar salad, apparently

• Mr. Tipple’s if you like jazz with your gin

• Zam Zam cash only, but worth it

Also - there’s a “sf martini trail” that I’ll def need to hit with my bf at some point. On it is Balboa Cafe, where he got me my first espresso martini in a long time and I’ve since gone back twice ;)

🍷 natural wine bar funky dancy cool girl vibes

I absolutely loved Verjus and Celeste - two spots that serve natural wine and are incredibly sexy and very much my vibe.

The girlies showed up for this one:

Persona, Key Klub, and Bar Darling came up most. Also DGM, Blondies, Holbrook House, Buddy Wine Bar, Gigi’s, rampant wine bar, 20 spot, el chato, camino alto, Bar Crenn…the list goes on. Went to Key Klub this past weekend and loved it.

🍺 where to split the g

Whenever I’m not doing a martini/negroni or a gno at a cute wine bar I’m splitting the g with my bf - so I had to ask where the best spots were to do this (especially since that’s exactly what we’ll be doing after our 5k in July).

Casements was mentioned twice - others mentioned include Page Bar, Danny Coyles, Irish Bank, Irish Times, Ireland’s 32, Chief Sullivan’s, Plough and Stars, Little Shamrock.

I looked each one up and my top picks are Chief Sullivan’s and Plough and Stars !!

🥘 korean food

The general take: Korean food in SF proper is lacking. For decent options in the city, people pointed to Bansang and Han Il Kwan. For the real stuff, you have to venture south: Kunjip in Mountain View and various spots in the South Bay were the consistent recs. Jin Mi got a mention for Korean tofu soup. Others mentioned - Zazang Korean Noodles, San Ho Won (which I’ve been to and didn’t think was worth), My Tofu House, Shin Toe Bul Yi, and Brothers Restaurant.

I honestly asked so I know where to order from if I’m ever hungover but seems like I’ll stick to making ramyun at home lol. On another note - parkskitchen hosts Korean cooking classes and events (3rd picture). Thoroughly enjoyed her little garden party spread a few weeks back.

🛍️ shopping

Nobody shops in SF, apparently. The consensus:

• Palo Alto or Marin for nice stuff

• Valley Fair (San Jose) for a real mall experience

• Within the city: Haight Street for thrifting and curated vintage shops, Fillmore or Valencia Street if you have the budget

I personally love walking down Filmore, then Union, then Chestnut :)

🚗 weekend trips

This was the richest category. SF’s greatest feature is its proximity to everything.

Coastal/Nature:

• Carmel by the Sea / Monterey — the most-mentioned by far

• Big Sur — longer drive but worth it

• Pacifica & Half Moon Bay — easy day trips

• Mendocino — 3 hours but “well worth it”

Wine Country:

• Healdsburg — “an hour and change, totally underrated”

• Guerneville / Monte Rio — river weekend vibes

• Paso Robles — for a longer wine weekend

• Russian River — classic

Classic Bay Area:

• Yosemite & Lake Tahoe — SF staples, mentioned by everyone

I definitely need to do all of these at some point, but one place I need to go before ever moving out of this city is the Charles M. Schulz Museum and Research Center in Santa Rosa <3

☁️ when tf is summer

As evident in the pics…I always need to wear a jacket outside. The most unhinged comment: “You will comfortably be able to wear a tank top and shorts when summer hits in October. For 3 days.” SF summer is foggy and cold. “Indian summer” hits mid-August through mid-October. I guess I need to learn how to accept the layers, embrace the fog, and continue to keep a jacket on me at all times.

I need to book my flights to Europe ASAP.

🗺️ rincon or rincon

Even before moving to SF I had questions around how to pronounce Rincon Hill - I’ve heard both Rin-cohn and Rin-cuhn. Seems like Rincon Hill is so irrelevant it doesn’t matter lol.

I’ve also heard people refer to where I live as FiDi and SoMa but the two are different neighborhoods - FiDi is north of Market, SoMa is south, but spiritually, Rincon gives FiDi.

That’s it for now - excited to share my learnings in the next few months as I continue to settle in. Am I missing any recs? LMK !!!!!

xx,

Grace

I just made my first investment - let’s talk about it :)

the first date

Three months into this job, I’ve sat across from a lot of founders. Some have better products than pitches. Some have better pitches than products. And then very occasionally, no matter how the pitch goes or what the deck looks like, I feel a weird attraction to the founder.

That’s how I felt when I met HJ, founder of Easea.

In all honesty, our first call wasn’t great. It was bad enough that it was at 8 AM on a Saturday and I was violently hungover, but a slight miscommunication led to a rushed IR session, and I left the call not really knowing what the business model was. But I knew HJ was cooking something I didn’t want to miss. So I asked her for coffee. We sat at a cafe for two hours and tore her deck apart. After multiple rounds of comments, edits, and ideating together, I introduced her to the IC and everyone was immediately enticed. By then, I knew this was definitely a team I wanted to be with and grow with long-term.

the k beauty red ocean

First, some context on why K-Beauty right now is both an opportunity and a trap.

The global K-beauty market was valued at $14.6B in 2024 and is projected to nearly triple to $38.3B by 2033. And yet, out of tens of thousands of active brands competing for the same consumers, only five K-beauty brands globally surpassed $100M in annual sales in 2024, while just 24 generated between $20-100M. Most brands never break through at all because nearly all of them are sourcing from the same handful of manufacturers (Cosmax, Kolmar, Cosmecca to name a few). When your serum and your competitor’s serum come out of the same factory, the formula isn’t the moat.

The result is a market flooded with brands chasing the next viral ingredient (PDRN, Centella, exosomes…), racing for the same influencer partnerships, and running increasingly sensationalized ad campaigns. Everyone is fighting for the same shelf space, the same Sephora placement, the same Olive Young feature. The brands that break through usually do it once, on the back of their “hero SKU”, and then spend the next two years trying to figure out if they have anything else.

Easea is not that.

bunnies and tokkis!

To understand what Easea is actually building, you need to understand how NewJeans happened.

On July 22, 2022, ADOR surprise-released the music video for a debut single called “Attention”. No prior promotion, no information on the group’s lineup, nothing. Billboard described the move as “risky-but-ultimately invigorating.” Standard K-pop debut playbook at the time: 4-6 weeks of pre-teasers, member reveals one by one, concept photos, a countdown. Every major label ran it. NewJeans skipped all of it.

The numbers that followed were hard to argue with. Pre-orders for their debut EP surpassed 444,000 copies in three days. The physical version sold over one million copies, becoming the best-selling debut album by a K-pop female act in South Korea. By March 2023 (less than a year since their debut), NewJeans became the fastest K-pop act ever to reach 1 billion streams on Spotify, shattering the previous record of 411 days. Their 2023 EP Get Up made NewJeans only the second K-pop girl group to top the Billboard 200, after Blackpink. Today, they’ve accumulated over 7 billion total streams on Spotify, with “OMG,” “Ditto,” and “Super Shy” each exceeding 800 million streams.

But here’s what most people missed: the “surprise” was meticulously prepared. Three days before the debut MV dropped, ADOR quietly launched Phoning, a dedicated fan communication app. When “Attention” exploded and new fans went looking for more content, Phoning was already waiting to catch them. MV creates curiosity → curiosity drives downloads → Phoning converts curiosity into fandom. The chaos was engineered. NewJeans was designed to attract people who weren’t already K-pop fans, targeting a broad audience rather than the core fandom base that most groups depended on.

The corporate drama that followed is a whole other story. But the strategy? It worked, spectacularly.

And HJ, Easea’s founder was in that room, on the inside of this, while it happened.

introducing easea

HJ left ADOR and took everything she learned - the anti-formula launch, the sequenced content reveal, the world-building before product - and applied it to skincare, under her own roof, on her own terms.

Instead of a standard brand launch (product photos, press release, influencer gifting, hope for a viral moment), she filmed a music video. She recorded a song with an actual artist. She’s been teasing content across IG and X in a way that feels less like a skincare brand launching and more like something dropping. Her last-day-at-work post went viral in the K-pop fandom community, which means she walked into this launch with an audience already emotionally invested in her story before a single product hit the market. Within just five days, easea has nearly 10K followers across IG and X, with a growing presence on Reddit and Koreaboo.

That’s the NewJeans playbook applied to consumer: make the launch itself the content, make curiosity do the distribution work. Except this time, we’re debuting a skincare line.

why i invested

The honest reason isn’t the skincare. It’s the IP architecture.

What the NewJeans saga ultimately proved is that in a saturated market, a distinctive creative universe is more defensible than any formula or ingredient. While Easea starts with skincare, I have no doubt it can quickly expand both its SKUs and its IP footprint. The partnerships with up-and-coming artists and models aren’t just a marketing strategy. They’re the infrastructure of a brand world that can expand into wellness, lifestyle, fashion, tech, and eventually operate like its own agency.

K-Beauty has produced incredible products. It hasn’t produced many truly iconic brands — the kind people feel something about, that extend beyond the category they started in, that become a reference point for an entire aesthetic. That’s the gap. This is my bet on who closes it.

The check is written. The content is coming. The product launches next week!

xx

Grace

PS - please follow @easea.official on IG and @easea_official on X <3

I don’t have a huge appetite myself - I can barely finish a small combo platter from Halal Guys, my go-to McD’s order is a QPC with medium fries and I always leave a bite or two. But I’ve noticed that a lot of people I grab meals with barely touch their food. When I ask if they’re not hungry, many will say: “I’m on Mounjaro” (or Wegovy).

And no, not in a "I'm managing my diabetes" way. Nine times out of ten it’s for aesthetic or lifestyle purposes: to lose weight before a wedding, to get ready for summer, to cancel out food noise (which is genuinely a real thing, by the way). And they’re able to do it because it’s relatively affordable, shockingly accessible, and effective. With results as drastic as losing 8 lbs in a week, Mounjaro has become Korea’s weight loss drug of the moment.

Via DoctorNow, a telehealth app which also happens to be one of our portfolio companies, you can find a doctor, get a prescription, and source Mounjaro for as low as 310,000 won a month. That’s roughly $200. In the US, the same drug runs $1,000+ out of pocket, or you're sourcing sketchy tirzepatide through some Reddit back channel (although this is about to change real quick). In Korea, Mounjaro is prescribed at family medicine clinics, medispas, and dedicated weight loss centers, which removes the sterile, intimidating feeling entirely. If you ask anyone in Korea with a BMI under 30 how they got a prescription, the answer is usually: "I told the doctor I was stressed about my weight and wanted to lose a few pounds. After a standard InBody assessment, I was in and out in five minutes."

The Korean government is worried about misuse. Meanwhile, the consumer market has already decided this is now the new normal. This shift from understanding GLP-1s as a medical treatment to a lifestyle optimization tool is exactly where the market opportunity lives.

The GLP-1 Wave Is Just Getting Started

The global GLP-1 receptor market was valued at $53.46B in 2024 and is projected to reach $156.71B by 2030. And with oral pills now hitting the market (the Wegovy pill got FDA approval in December 2025, with Eli Lilly’s orforglipron expected to follow in 2026) that curve is only going to steepen. No injection, no fasting window, $149 a month. The barrier to entry just got a lot lower.

In the US, the political winds shifted dramatically late last year. The Trump administration struck deals with Eli Lilly and Novo Nordisk that will, for the first time, bring GLP-1s under Medicare coverage starting mid-2026. Through TrumpRx, injectable prices drop from $1,000–$1,350 to $350 a month. JPMorgan analysts estimated that 80% of obese Medicare patients could now qualify. And while North America currently dominates with nearly 78% of worldwide GLP-1 sales, Asia-Pacific is projected to grow the fastest — at a CAGR of 14.6% through 2035.

Translation: what was a drug for the wealthy or chronically ill is rapidly becoming a mass-market lifestyle product. And that changes what hundreds of millions of people will want and need to buy.

What GLP-1 Users Need

When you’re on Mounjaro or Wegovy, you don’t just lose weight. Your entire relationship with food changes, and your body has very specific needs as a result.

1. You need to eat a lot of protein. GLP-1 users are advised to consume 1.0–1.6 grams of protein per kilogram of body weight daily because reduced appetite makes muscle loss a real and documented risk. Since you’re eating less, getting that protein in compact, high-quality form matters enormously.

2. You need to stay aggressively hydrated. GLP-1s slow gastric emptying, which reduces thirst signals and makes dehydration a surprisingly common issue, especially at higher doses. Most users have to actively remind themselves to drink water in a way they never did before.

3. You need a supplement stack. Research shows that more than 20% of GLP-1 users develop a nutritional deficiency within a year of starting the medication, with vitamin D being the most common, followed by zinc, iron, and B12. And then there’s the hair loss - many users experience significant shedding triggered by rapid weight loss and nutritional deficiency, a condition called telogen effluvium, which sends people scrambling for collagen, biotin, and whatever else promises to keep their hair intact.

4. You need to cut down on the alcohol. I’ve heard too many horror stories of absolutely brutal hangovers from people who didn’t realize the drug essentially makes you a lightweight overnight.

The GLP-1 user isn’t just a person trying to lose weight. They’re a person who has committed to a specific, medically-informed lifestyle, and they need an entire product ecosystem to support it. Right now, that ecosystem barely exists in Korea in any branded, scalable form. Let’s take a look at the protein market, as an example.

Korea’s Protein Problem

Korean diets are not protein-deficient. BBQ culture, tofu, fermented foods, collagen broths - the raw ingredients are there. But Korea has never translated its food culture into a globally recognized, modern protein brand. While it’s made big strides in the zero sugar market, there’s no Korean Quest. No Korean David (the protein bar…plenty of David Kims in this world). No Korean Magic Spoon.

Why? A few reasons I keep seeing come up when I look at decks:

1. The “too functional” trap: the formulation is strong, the ingredients are clean, but the branding feels clinical. Nobody wants to feel like they’re taking medicine with their afternoon snack.

2. Made in Korea for Koreans. Korean protein products are designed for Korean taste preferences and retail environments first, with the assumption that they can be exported later. Protein is one of the most behaviorally specific categories in CPG. You can’t retrofit product-market fit internationally after the fact - you have to build for the global consumer from day one.

3. Protein for beauty over performance. Korean ingestible brands love the collagen-skin-inner beauty angle, which works, but caps the market. The GLP-1 consumer doesn’t want to glow. They want to not lose muscle mass.

Where the Opportunity Actually Is

If Korean founders want to win globally in protein, I don’t think the answer is “better protein.” It’s better formats because this is where Korea is structurally advantaged.

Korea has already proven it can innovate in:

• Delivery systems (jelly sticks, liquid shots, dual packs)

• Texture (chewy, drinkable, layered)

• Convenience (portable, single-serve, aesthetic)

If a Korean founder walked into our office tomorrow, here’s what would immediately get my attention:

• A protein product built in a non-Western format (not shakes/bars)

• Branding that leans into performance + lifestyle, not just beauty

• A product designed for US retail from Day 1

• Clear daily use case (not occasional consumption)

Bonus points if:

• It fits in a gym bag

• It can be consumed in under 10 seconds

• It looks good on TikTok

Continuing my K Wellness is the next K Beauty Thesis

K-Beauty worked because the products were differentiated, the routines were exportable, and the branding translated. K-Protein (if that becomes a thing) is harder, but the upside is massive. Protein is not a trend - it’s infrastructure. And right now, Korea is sitting on a system that works… without having turned it into something the rest of the world can buy.

That’s the gap.

What’s the best (or worst) protein product you’ve tried recently? I’ve tried a considerable number of protein bars and shakes, and I have yet to find one that truly stands out (I like the strawberry yogurt flavor shake from Cocobab the most for now). Let me know ASAP so I can bring a few to the US when I return this Friday :)

xx

Grace

PS: I’ve been so busy these days that I didn’t have nearly enough time to write my weekly substack post. My boyfriend had to help me draft this article (with help from GPT lol). ILY YJ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you’re new here — read this first.

1. Time-Maxxing Is Real.

VC associates typically work somewhere between 60-70 hours a week, which honestly isn’t that bad. Significantly more than what I used to work at AWS, but it could be worse (my friends in PE, the bootstrapping founders I talk to daily, the L’appartment baker I know who’s up at 4 AM every morning would laugh at me complaining). But the number isn’t what gets you. It’s the texture of the hours.

I don’t really have meals anymore. I have meetings that happen to involve food. Every lunch, dinner, cup of tea (not coffee) is with a founder, an investor, an LP, or someone I’m actively trying to learn from. I take TADA cabs to and from work not because the exchange rate makes them affordable (although, it does) but because it’s the only time I can upload deals on Attio, catch up on the latest startup news, or write on Substack without someone needing something from me.

My weekends used to mean working out, shopping, and doom-scrolling TikTok. This past weekend: Friday I took founders out for drinks. Saturday I was at a networking party until 2 AM, after a morning of medical exams that included general anesthesia. Sunday was chimaek (Korean fried chicken and beer) at my boss’s place with portfolio companies and LPs.

And because half my network is US-based, I’ve traded my morning workout for 7 AM calls with founders, VCs, and ACs in the States. And no, I’m not a morning person.

What I’ve figured out is that thriving here isn’t about working the most hours - it’s about knowing, in real time, which room is worth your next 90 minutes.

2. I’ve Learned How to Become Comfortable with the Uncomfortable

Last week, my dad dragged me to his VC ROTC dinner. 30+ seasoned industry veterans, bonded in brotherhood. I was the first woman to attend their quarterly dinner. Also the first Gen-Z attendee. Also the first child of an attendee. I did a toast, ate Korean pork belly alongside men my dad’s age, and then took shots of scotch. On a Tuesday.

Before this job, I would have found every possible reason to not be in that room. Now I know that room is exactly where I need to be. (And I actually had a great time lol)

I could write a whole post about uncomfortable moments from the last two months alone - showing up 20 minutes late to a meeting with the president of one of Korea’s largest insurance companies, picking up calls from LPs about terms I didn’t fully understand and having to awkwardly redirect them to my VP, getting on stage in front of 50+ developers to introduce our firm in Korean (my public speaking is genuinely 50x better in English, I promise). The list goes on.

But the discomfort that felt paralyzing in month one has slowly become just... how I operate. And in the middle of all the chaos, I’m genuinely grateful for a team that gives me stability and a sense of familiarity.

3. The Access Is a Privilege I Think About Every Day.

Since joining Sazze, I’ve had the chance to sit across from people you read about in papers and case studies. One of my favorite meetings in the last two months was with the founder of My Normal Company, the team behind Korea’s #1 household staple, cooking allulose. I cold emailed him through their customer service line. We ended up talking for two hours about the company and his journey as a founder, even though they’re not actively looking for investment (they hit BEP years ago and are running a highly profitable business). He had zero reason to take that meeting. He did anyway.

I’ve also had the privilege of meeting people who aren’t established players (yet), like Ryan and MJ from Genic, who I also cold emailed on LinkedIn. They’re building something I’m genuinely excited to watch grow, especially as a former film girlie now turned digicam girlie.

Most people spend years, sometimes entire careers, trying to get into those rooms. I recognize the privilege and I’m still figuring out what it means to deserve access I haven’t fully earned yet. But I think the awareness is where it starts.

Let’s Connect IRL

I’m wrapping up my three months in Seoul and gearing up for stops in NYC and Boston before the big move to SF. I have events coming up in both cities and would genuinely love to see you there - send me a DM for details (IG: @middlechameleon).

xx

Grace

Then I came to Korea. And I’ve had to make my peace with disappointment.

Korea has mastered cheap, fast, efficient coffee. Walk into any Banapresso or The Venti, and you can get a respectable americano for under two dollars. The chains are everywhere, the quality is consistent, and the speed is impressive. But matcha is an afterthought. Watery. Sweetened past recognition. Closer to a yellowish-brown in color. Never whisked. After a few attempts, I now order overpriced tea bags whenever I meet someone for “coffee.”

Still, I didn’t want to dismiss Korean matcha wholesale. Because something bigger is happening in the global matcha market, and Korea might have a real play in it.

The Boom Nobody Fully Saw Coming

The global matcha market was valued at around $4.2B in 2024 and is projected to nearly double to over $7.7B by 2033. Retail sales of matcha powder increased 86% in just three years. On TikTok, videos tagged #matcha have racked up billions of views, with influencers selling the drink as a healthier alternative to coffee and even launching their own lines (i.e., nami matcha). The search term “matcha” has seen 219% five-year growth on TikTok and in 2024 alone, there were 89 new matcha product launches, more than doubling the year before.

The signals are everywhere on the ground too. Speaking from direct observation - last year, within a 10 mile radius of downtown Seattle, 3+ matcha cafes opened. No coffee on the menu, just matcha in every form. The ones I remember off the top of my head include phê, taz, and yoka And then the shortage hit. Because demand had outpaced supply so severely, several of these shops had to temporarily close or pivot to alternatives for weeks.

This wasn’t just a Seattle problem. One Las Vegas matcha cafe founder shared that wait times for powder increased from the usual one to two months out to six months. Matchaful had to reduce the size of their drinks to keep up. The shortage also got strange fast - scalpers started buying matcha in bulk and reselling at a premium, and centuries-old producers like Marukyu Koyamaen published public lists of unauthorized resellers.

The price data tells the same story. Tencha (the raw leaf used to make matcha) saw trading prices in jump between 160-265% between 2024 and 2025. Some farmers have doubled their prices. Others report order requests increasing by 800%. Ippodo Tea, a premium Kyoto supplier founded in 1717, raised prices on its top-tier matcha by 53%. And on top of all of that, the US imposed a 15% tariff on Japanese imports which only squeezed the math further (though pure tea became exempt from this tarriff Q4 2025).

Why Japan Can’t Keep Up

Japan’s matcha production tripled between 2010 and 2023, and it still isn’t enough. The global boom is simply moving faster than the farms can for several reasons:

1. The average age of a tea farmer in Japan is around 65. The generations that would have inherited those farms are choosing different careers. Between 2000 and 2020, Japan lost 53,000 tea farmers to retirement. You can’t replace that knowledge overnight.

2. The crop itself resists scaling. To create premium matcha, farmers must cut plants off from sunlight for three weeks or more, select only the top sprouts, remove stems and veins, and carefully grind the leaves into an ultrafine powder using a machine or stone mill. Traditional stone grinding produces roughly 30 grams per hour (that’s 5-6 lattes). New tencha plants also take around three years before they’re ready to harvest.

3. Weather! Kyoto was hit by a severe heatwave in 2024, leading to weak yields in 2025. In Uji, output dropped 40-60%. Masahiro Yoshida, a sixth-generation farmer, was only able to harvest 1.5 tons of tencha this year, down a quarter from his typical harvest of two tons (reuters).

Which brings me back to Korea.

The Case for Korean Matcha

Korean green tea has deep roots. The growing regions of Boseong, Hadong, and Jeju have been cultivating tea for centuries, and the terroir is genuinely distinct.

• Boseong is known as Korea’s green tea capital, and lies along Korea’s southern coast. Its tea fields stretch across hills often wrapped in morning mist - a climate that shapes a slower-growing leaf with a naturally softer, less bitter profile. Driven by surging demand, Boseong’s green tea processing center sold out its entire 2025 harvest of 246 tons along with all existing stockpiles, marking a significant turnaround from previous years' surplus.

• Hadong is the home of 야생차 (semi-wild tea trees) that have grown on the slopes of the Jirisan mountains for over 1,200 years. Hadong’s artisanal “wild” matcha is carving out a high-end niche, with regional powdered tea exports jumping sixfold over the last five years and now anchoring a specialized export market targeting over $1.5M in annual US sales.

• Jeju Island offers volcanic soil and a clean, temperate climate that produces a matcha with gentle sweetness and umami undertones. Osulloc’s matcha sales surged 260% year-over-year in late 2025, positioning the Jeju-based brand to surpass $74 million in annual revenue.
  

To get a real sense of where Korean matcha actually stands today, I taste tested three brands.

Osulloc is the most established name in Korean tea. Founded in 1979 by Suh Sung Whan, the brand revived a tea culture once reserved for Korean royalty and monks, growing entirely on Jeju Island’s volcanic soil. Their ceremonial-grade powder is shade-grown to enhance L-theanine and chlorophyll, and delivers a smooth, umami-rich flavor with what they describe as a clean, focused energy. In the cup, I found it mild and clean. Better than anything I’d encountered at Korean coffee chains, but missing the depth and vegetal brightness I associate with premium Japanese ceremonial grade. A 2.5/5 for me.

Magpie & Tiger was a more interesting discovery. Sourced from the Boseong region, the ceremonial grade begins with a nutty sweetness, then a pleasant earthy bitterness. The brand leans into Korean terroir as a differentiator - they specifically note their tea is grown without heavy nitrogen fertilization, relying on sun and fresh air to preserve a full-bodied natural flavor. This was spot on for me - strong umami flavors, creamy and nutty, a 4.3/5.

Super Matcha takes a different angle entirely. Founded in 2017, Super Matcha frames itself around addressing the health challenges of excessive caffeine consumption in modern lifestyles. It’s a brand designed for a wellness-oriented consumer rather than a purist, and it’s found traction internationally through platforms like Olive Young. Less umami flavor but very smooth and stronger than osolluc’s. A 4/5 for me.

Korea’s Window

Here’s the honest case. Japanese matcha will remain the gold standard for ceremonial purists (whatever that means). But the matcha market isn’t being driven by purists - it’s being driven by the same people who made oat milk lattes a $7B category. They want something that tastes clean, looks beautiful, tells a wellness story, and is accessible.

Korean matcha is well-suited for that consumer. The flavor profile is approachable. The origins (Jeju’s volcanic soil, Boseong’s misty valleys…) are compelling stories. And the supply chain isn’t under the same existential pressure that Japan’s is.

What Korea lacks isn’t the product. It’s the narrative infrastructure. Japan spent decades building global matcha’s mythology (think: tea ceremonies, temples etc.). Korea is starting from a different place, and that’s not inherently a disadvantage. But it means brands like Osulloc, Magpie & Tiger, and Super Matcha need to build awareness abroad with more intentionality than they have so far. The window is open. The shortage is real. The question is whether Korean producers can move fast enough to establish credibility before the gap narrows.

Will Matcha Stay, or Is This Just a Moment?

The coffee alternatives market is crowded now. Orzo, mushroom coffee, adaptogenic blends - every wellness brand is chasing the consumer who wants energy without anxiety. Some of these products are genuinely good. Most are fads dressed up in shiny packaging.

What matcha has that most alternatives don’t is history. Centuries of it. The ritual of it, the preparation, the deliberateness - give matcha a staying power that a mushroom powder blend assembled in 2021 simply doesn’t have.

That said, coffee isn’t going anywhere. Humans have a 500-year relationship with coffee and caffeine dependency is real. Matcha will likely continue to grow as a complement to, not a replacement for, coffee culture. The people most likely to drink matcha every day are the ones who, like me, already prefer it. The market expansion comes from the wider group who adds it to their rotation, who orders the matcha latte when they want something different, who buys the coveted tin of rocky’s for the at home cafe aesthetic.

That being said, I haven’t spent time exploring my matcha options in SF yet - if you’re familiar with the game, let me know which spots I need to hit next month

XX

Grace

PS - if you made it this far - here’s the link to my matcha taste test:

PPS - my bf came up with the subtitle lol

What the title says.

And yet I just signed a 12 month lease in Rincon Hill without seeing anything in person.

I could’ve played it safe - stay at an Airbnb, crash at my Partner’s house in Saratoga, ask my ex-coworker to tour a few units on my behalf. But that wasn’t the vibe. By signing a lease now, I was forcing myself to:

1. get to know the city, or at least the area I want to live in and its surrounding areas

2. place bets - which stresses me the hell out but I love doing

3. reduce time spent on settling down so I can immediately start meeting founders and investors, organize events, and build my community in SF

Ok but above all else, I’m impatient AF and this is how I operate lol.

Can I even live here?

After an eight-month, soul-crushing apartment hunt in NYC, I thought SF would be a breeze. I was wrong. The market I found wasn’t the “doom loop” San Francisco of 2023; it was a market on fire.

Based on initial market research on apartments.com, for what I wanted (a 1-bedroom, in-unit W/D, high-rise amenity building) the floor was $5k. The metrics are jarring:

• According to SFGate, San Francisco is on its way to claiming its title as the most expensive rental city in the US

• One-bedroom rents are up 16.1% YoY, and two-bedrooms have spiked 19%. SF is now trailing NYC’s median two-bedroom price by a mere $130.

• The cause? The “AI Boom.” Optimism around AI hiring is pulling high-income talent back into a city with a razor-thin 3.3% vacancy rate.

Do I need a real estate (AI) agent?

To officially launch my apartment hunt process, I started on TikTok. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a lot of content around SF housing. I went to Gemini next: “I am a girl in her mid-20s who works in VC and prioritizes safety, luxury living, and premium gyms. My budget is around $X. Where should I live?” The results? Mixed. It suggested condos that weren’t for rent, neighborhoods I knew I wouldn’t want to live in, or apartments that simply were not the vibe. I ended up resorting to human intelligence. After talking to 10+ people in the industry, they all pointed to the same triangle: SoMa, Rincon Hill, and Mission Bay.

I spent the next four weeks manually refreshing Apartments.com and Google Maps, narrowing my list to six candidates.

I tried using AI agents to bridge the gap, but most just led to a deluge of spam calls. I was so overwhelmed I actually asked my boyfriend if I needed to hire a real-life human real estate agent.

Has AI Reduced Productivity?

There’s a massive irony in moving to SF for the AI revolution when AI couldn’t help me find a home.

• The Apartment Finder Agent Tools: Connected me to auto-generated responses that couldn’t answer basic questions.

• The Humans: Refused to do FaceTime tours because “everything is available online”

• The Noise: Every email to management was met with a different “AI Agent” that usually provided zero value.

Seeing prices rise and units vanishing by the hour, I realized that in a supply-constrained market driven by tech optimism, the speed of AI might actually be making the scramble more frantic.

In the end, I had to make a bet.

However, there was one outlier: EliseAI. When I finally pulled the trigger on my application, the experience was night and day. While other bots felt like glorified auto-replies, EliseAI actually handled the logistics. It was the only AI tool that actually moved the needle from searching to signed.

Come hang at my rooftop

I’ll be on the ground in SF starting April 19th. I purposefully chose a building with a killer rooftop lounge because I’m here to host. I’ve made my bet. I’m hoping the “vibes” I saw through a grainy pre-recorded video from 2023 match the reality. If not, and you have a spare desk at your office, let me know.

XX

Grace

I haven’t exactly been in Seoul. As much as I hate to say this I’ve been in a self-imposed vortex of Venture Capital. My geography is a repetitive loop: my gym in Yeouido, my office in Seollung, and the frantic sprints up and down Teheran-ro for meetings. In this ecosystem of startups and investors, I am surrounded by people, yet I’ve never felt more isolated from the actual city.

To escape this “Vortex,” I’ve started being intentional about how and where I spend my weekends. I’m chasing after what’s familiar - where I used to spend my time whenever I would visit for leisure and R&R. Last week, it was Namdaemun Market (남대문 시장).

To a tourist, Namdaemun is a chaotic sprawl of street food and cheap socks. To me, it’s Saks Fifth Avenue. I don’t need Google Maps or saved videos on TikTok to navigate the area - my mental floor plan is hard-coded. But walking our usual route after a two-year absence felt like an emotional rollercoaster. I was looking for comfort, but I found a battlefield where tradition is fighting the velocity of viral culture.

We started with seafood soybean paste stew at 남대문 숯불갈비. The manager, a man in his 30s, runs a tight ship. He’s not exactly “friendly,” but he offers a guarantee of quality and taste. In a world of fleeting pop-ups, his stubborn consistency is his moat.

But on the third floor of 종합상가 C동, the “M&A” wave had hit the bazaar. My favorite Korean goods shop had been swallowed by another stall. The high-quality, artisanal finds were gone, replaced by generic, Temu-grade plastic. At 도깨비 시장, my favorite Japanese snack vendor (the one I’ve frequented since I was old enough to chew gum) had thinning shelves. “Nothing sells anymore,” she sighed, as she tucked a free treat (서비스) into my bag. That small act of hospitality is likely the only thing outlasting the algorithm.

Right as you exit 도깨비 시장, under a staircase, is a tiny noodle nook. It’s been there forever, but because of a recent Instagram Reel, there was a line for a $5 bowl of noodles. It’s a perfect example of how the internet can breathe life into the “old,” but also how precarious that fame is.

Heartened by the stability yet disappointed by the changes, I decided it was time to try my luck at one more spot - Piknic Seoul.

We took a short drive to Piknic in Hoehyeon. When it opened in 2018, it was the pioneer of the area—a Michelin-starred restaurant, a lifestyle shop, an art gallery. It was the “it” spot for artsy individuals who wanted more than the legacy Leeum or MMCA.

Walking through it now was bittersweet. Still Books had shuttered. The dessert shop had a “moving out” notice. Zero Complex had moved to Yongsan. Most of the surrounding Local Stitch complex sat dark on a Saturday. Spaces I thought would last forever were already ghosts.

In my world, we talk about blitzscaling. In Seoul, that philosophy is applied to entire neighborhoods. A district becomes “cool,” the vibe is extracted for content, rents spike, and everyone migrates to the next shiny thing. It’s an economic exhaustion that leaves the soul of the city feeling hollow.

On the ride home, I felt the weight of it. Some businesses haven’t changed and are thriving; others haven’t changed and are dying. Some were the “shiny new things” of 2022 and are already ruins.

Why did this make me so sad? Why was I obsessing over what was instead of what could be?

Perhaps because I spend my professional life hunting for “disruptors,” I find my human self reaching for what’s familiar. It may also mean that I’m growing old…lol. To me, the vendor who gives 서비스 when sales are down, or the cold can of Demi Soda Apple I always grab in the market, are the true champions. They provide a sense of “home” that isn’t tied to a competitive lease or a 15-second Reel.

What is the one thing in your hometown you hope never changes?

XX,

Grace

But this wasn’t just a fleeting “wellness girlie” phase. By 2025, my commitment had evolved from a hobby into a line item: a conservative audit shows I spent over $25k on my health and longevity last year (not counting the damage I did during the Alo Black Friday sale…which counts as wellness right?).

Health and wellness has officially graduated from a viral trend into a $6.9 trillion global utility that functions as non-discretionary infrastructure for the modern consumer. Despite economic volatility, it remains one of the few categories where spending intent is actually rising, particularly among Gen Z and Millennials who now drive 41% of the US market. For these cohorts, health optimization has flipped from a luxury to a baseline identity, outranking even legacy staples like streaming services or alcohol. As we march toward a projected $11 trillion valuation by 2034, the shift is clear: “health and wellness” is here to stay.

The Four Pillars of the Optimization Era

I’m seeing the market consolidate into four main obsessions:

1. Functional Everything: The way we exercise, dress, breathe, sleep, exist…needs to be functional. We’re replacing boring multivitamins for “specific-outcome” ingestibles (think Lemme Purr for elevated hygiene or glutathione strips for that inner glow). We’re snacking on protein snacks at the function. We’re relying on an artificial sunrise-generating alarm clock to help us wake up feeling refreshsed.

2. Medicalized Wellness: This is the Longevity OS. High-retention subscription models like Hims & Hers and Hone Health are rebranding chronic care and hormonal optimization as a premium lifestyle choice. With over 2.4 million subscribers, “wellness” is officially meeting deep science to manage our biological infrastructure.

3. Biological Intelligence: Our wearables have evolved from basic trackers to active health advisors. Oura is currently sitting on a massive $11B valuation, while AI-driven tech like Eight Sleep optimizes your biology in real-time while you sleep.

4. Social Spaces and Travel: The “Third Space” isn’t the bar anymore - it’s the social sauna. Brands like Othership ($20.6M funding) or Bathhouse ($353M valuation) have proven that cold plunges and bio-rituals are the new scalable social rituals. The wellness tourism pillar is projected to reach $1.46T in 2028 (think Hyrox Cruise, a four-day fitness experience at sea).

The Giants Are Moving Too

Even legacy retail & CPG giants are ditching low-margin staples to chase the wellness loyalty:

• Unilever demerged its $8.4B ice cream business to focus on “Beauty & Wellbeing” (Liquid I.V., Olly).

• PepsiCo grabbed Poppi for $1.95B to further validate the functional bev thesis

• Starbucks saved its sales by launching Protein Cold Foam (look at their Q1 26 earnings report)

• Ulta announced in January that it would expand its physical footprint to include dedicated wellness zones in over 800 stores

• Target Corporation announced a 30% expansion in its wellness product category with thousands of new items on shelves this year

The K-Gap in Health and Wellness

Here’s the thing that keeps me up: K-Beauty is everywhere, but K-Wellness is still a ghost in the West. For example, out of 1,300 wellness items on Ulta’s site, only 1.3% are Korean. Even on TikTok, a search for “Korean Wellness” mostly surfaces glass-skin tutorials and medspa vlogs. There is almost zero discourse on what Koreans are actually wearing to the gym, what they’re eating for longevity, or how they’re optimizing their internal biology. We’ve imported the face, but we’ve completely ignored the body.

But the signal is there. In Seoul, Olive Young launched their Olive Better (aka “all live better”) concept, starting with a flagship store in Gwanghwamun. This isn’t just a store but more so a strategic manifesto for their upcoming US expansion. When their first physical US stores land later this year, they’ll be exporting a lifestyle.

We’re also seeing what happens when Korean wellness products finally break through the noise. Take Foodology: I’ll be the first to admit I was skeptical of a "cutting jelly stick" at first (I actually rejected an offer to create content for them a year ago). But after a viral push from Ms. Kylie), the brand saw a staggering 378% YoY revenue growth in North America in 2025.

The cultural guard is also shifting. Top-tier influencers like glowwithava, ahnestkitchen, thedavisstandard are no longer just showing off their skincare routines. They’re putting their moms front and center to showcase the multi-generational power of K-health and traditional Hanbang rituals.

The 2026 K Wellness Playbook

If you’re a founder looking to win this space, your product can’t just be Korean. It needs to be born global.

• Tone: Stop selling “skinny.” Start selling holistic vitality.

• Trust: Use Korea’s MFDS certification (which is way stricter than the FDA) as a badge of medical-grade credibility. And leverage Korea’s cheap and fast OEM/ODM sytems to deliver what people want…quickly.

• Ritual: People want to add new practices to their wellness ritual. Take advantage of unique Korean formats such as liquid-capsule dual packs, high absorption jelly sticks, and fermented Hanbang (herbal) biotechnology.

The concern that the wellness market has reached saturation is a fundamental misunderstanding of current market dynamics. We are not witnessing a plateau, but a structural reset of consumer expectations.

Korean wellness startups are uniquely positioned to meet this sophisticated demand. The opportunity is no longer to simply sell a supplement but to own the daily biological infrastructure of the modern consumer. Brands that bridge the gap between Korean formulation excellence and the Western “Total Wellness” lifestyle are positioned for the same explosive growth that K-Beauty experienced.

Let’s Chat

What’s the one wellness ritual you actually justify spending way too much money on? Mine is currently a weekly full body 90 minute radiofrequency massage :P

xx

Grace

I don’t like Hailey Bieber, and I honestly couldn’t tell you what’s in the smoothie besides the Vital Proteins collagen and some sort of strawberry puree, but I think about her $21 Strawberry Glaze smoothie way too often. Every time I’m in LA, grabbing an Erewhon smoothie is a non-negotiable. I’ve done the rounds: Olivia Rodrigo’s Good 4 Ur Guts, Sofia Richie Grainge’s Sweet Cherry, the Cactus Plant Flea Market. They’ve all slapped, enough for me to justify spending hundreds of dollars on them over the years.

So, when these Erewhon-esque smoothies started taking over my Korean friends’ IG stories, it became my new fixation. I told myself I had to try it the second I landed in Seoul.

Last week, I finally did.

House of Shinsaegae & Twelve - A New Concept

I headed to House of Shinsegae in Cheongdam. This spot holds core memories for me. Back in my SAT prep days, my parents and I would eat at the Japanese restaurant on the first floor, then head downstairs to burn off calories walking around the original SSG Food Market, loading up on overpriced, cutesy snacks to fuel my late-night study sessions.

Walking in now, the retail concept has completely shifted. My old reliable go-tos (My Boon, Vecchia & Nuovo, and the original SSG Market) have been replaced by a new concept called Twelve. The Erewhon vibes were forced and immediate: plastic containers with cut fruit that cost $25, a gourmet “healthy” hot bar, and the centerpiece: a $20+ smoothie bar called Twelve Wonder Bar. To my surprise, there were only 2 people in line so I ordered the $20 Rainbow Paradise. I was warned that it would take 40-50 minutes, but it ended up taking 16.

The Verdict

The smoothie was actually good. For me, worth the money (my review is available on TikTok here). But as for the rest of the store? I wouldn’t call it an Erewhon dupe. It felt too manufactured. Too cold. It lacked that chill, laid-back, yet cut-throat environment that Erewhon mastered.

!!!PMFPMFPMFPMF!!!

As an investor at Sazze, this experience triggered my PMF alarm. I meet founders every week who want to scale globally. Often, they benchmark a successful Korean business and try to transplant it to the US as is, assuming that if it worked here, it’ll work there.

They completely overlook Product/Market Fit (PMF). I often hear founders say, “Since our business is successful in Korea, once we raise our seed round, we’ll spend a month in LA or NYC to understand consumer trends and bring our product to the US.” The harsh reality? You can’t vacation your way into understanding a market. You have to study the deep-rooted nuances of consumer behavior. Just because a $20 smoothie works in LA doesn’t mean it works in Seoul. The same way that $20 smoothie currently does not work in NYC (we’ve seen influencer collabs at Butterfield and a solid Strawberry Glaze dupe at Ouri’s, but neither attract 44,000 sales a month like big E does). You need to know the ins and outs of local consumer behavior and needs, like Julia Baldet did with Elevate in London (backed by Erewhon!).

Why “Twelve” Missed the Mark

1. Brand vs. Corporate Venture: Erewhon is its own wellness brand and a cultural collective. They lead the conversation, like partnering with the KITH Padel Club. Twelve is owned by Shinsegae, a retail giant. It feels like a forced venture rather than an organic movement.

2. Quiet vs. Loud Luxury: Erewhon is expensive, but in a quiet way. The smoothies are “loud” for social media, but the store experience is casual. They pair this with a $200/year membership that creates real exclusivity. Twelve is loud in its architecture but lacks that insider community feel.

3. The “Dupe” Strategy has a Ceiling: Twelve’s biggest hurdle is that it is currently being marketed solely as an Erewhon dupe. To endure the rapidly changing consumer economy in Korea, Twelve needs to become a proper Wellness House, perhaps like Positive Hotel. Right now, it’s just a very expensive, very pretty grocery store, not so far off from what its predecessor was.

Let me buy you a smoothie

As an investor, I aspire to be an active, know-it-all consumer consultant for the startups we back at Sazze. That’s part of the reason why I do my cardio at department stores (Saks and Bergdorfs in NYC, The Hyundai in Seoul), get my consumer and retail news on TikTok/IG, and create content for K-Beauty brands like Beauty of Joseon and fwee in my free time. I’m curious to know your thoughts on Twelve and the general wellness space. Let’s indulge in an overpriced smoothie and chat about it. :)

xx

Grace

Historically, “Seoul” was a verb for me. It meant ordering mala rose tteokbokki on Coupang Eats, hoarding enough K-Beauty and fashion products to fill a third suitcase (shoutout to Korean Air Morning Calm Premium), and spending quality time with friends and family. This time, I’m here to launch my career in venture capital.

The Pivot: Leaving the “Yellow Badge” Behind

After nearly five years at AWS, I decided to pivot to VC. Why the sudden shift? It came down to three things:

1. The Five-Year Curse: Because I started my career at Amazon, I was terrified of the “coveted” yellow badge. Five years felt like a life sentence; I needed a fresh ecosystem and to try something new before it felt like it was too late.

2. The Proverbial “Room”: I wanted to be where money was to understand how it flows. I wanted dive into how the world actually works beyond the “What do you know about B2B SaaS?” script.

3. The “Easy In”: I had a path that didn’t involve going to B school (mostly joking, but also... not).

How it Happened (A KOOM come true)

A quick aside on how I got here: I first met Kiha, our founding partner at Sazze, last year at a random three-day conference held at a ranch in Katy, TX. We barely spoke, but we reconnected during my short stint as Chief of Staff for KOOM(꿈), a massive Korean culture festival in NYC.

That was my true “trial by fire.” Within hours of joining, I was running TikTok influencer campaigns, booking media appearances with the NYSE and FOX TV, and staying up until 3:00 AM responding to 100+ CS requests.

Proving to myself that I could thrive in the deep end of something I’d never done before gave me the final push I needed. I left a high-paying gig at one of the world’s biggest companies to join a scrappy, Silicon Valley-based VC that invests exclusively in Korean founders.

But why just Koreans?

There is an undeniable sense of pride (aka gukppong) in seeing Korean founders take the global stage. But joining Sazze wasn't just an emotional decision - it was a mission-driven one. While the world has quickly recognized our taste and culture, the global market is now nodding to our agility, technical expertise, and grit. With the KOSPI hitting record highs (surpassing 5,000) and the Seoul ecosystem maturing, Korean founders are no longer "local winners" but are uniquely positioned to dominate internationally.

The biggest hurdle for many brilliant Korean founders isn’t the product - it’s the bridge. There is a specific “gap” between the execution power in Seoul and the scaling mechanics of the US and global markets. I joined Sazze to close that gap.

0 to 100 MPH

The transition was a shock to some, but to those who truly know me, it made perfect sense. I packed up my life in NYC (it took 7 XXL FedEx boxes, 6 suitcases, and a couple of tears here and there) and prepared for a learning curve that I knew would hit me at 100 mph.

It hit faster.

My first day wasn’t in an office; it was at the 2026 UKF 82 Startup Summit (you can read more about this here), surrounded by 3,000+ people. From there, I hopped on a flight to Seoul, landed Sunday at 5 PM, and was at the office by 9 AM Monday. (I literally had to text my VP for the address on my cab ride home from the airport lol.)

The Learning Curve (Can you say “EBITDA”?)

Since January 19th, I’ve jumped into the deep end: fundraising meetings with institutional investors, intro calls with consumer startups, and networking with the “who’s who” of Korean VCs.

On Day 1, I didn’t know what a pre-money SAFE was (smh). Now, in week 4, I’m about to introduce my first deal to the IC. I’m finally speaking the language, even if I currently sound like I learned the fundamentals of venture capital from Ms. Rachel.

To bridge the steep learning curve, I’ve been leveraging a “secret weapon”: my dad. As an ex-finance veteran who seemingly knows every individual in the industry, he’s been my personal onboarding coach, helping me navigate high-stakes meetings with executives at major investment firms. For the dad who was once slightly disappointed I didn’t transfer to Wharton, I’m sure seeing me finally talk shop at the family dinner table feels like everything is coming full circle. It’s high-pressure mentorship, and I’m taking every bit of it I can get to ramp up.

A Glimpse of the Chaos

If you’re wondering what a month into VC looks like, here is the only part of my day that has any actual stability:

• 5:30 AM: Wake up and debate the gym vs. my bed.

• 6:00 AM: Hit the gym with my dad (or succumb to extended slumber).

• 8:00 AM: The commute. If traffic is bad, this is a soul-crushing hour-plus. (I take TADA taxis so I can at least catch up on sleep or get some work done during my commute)

• 9:00 AM – Late: Pure chaos.

My days are a whirlwind. Whether I’m in back-to-back meetings with potential LPs (we’re currently leading the pre-IPO round for Upstage, the top AI startup in Korea), inviting cool consumer startups to the office to pitch their product, or at coffee chats with other investors in the space (while awkwardly explaining why I don’t drink coffee), I’m constantly on the go and rarely sitting at my desk. Instead, I’m racing between Yeouido, Euljiro…Gangnam. Think of it like trying to do Midtown, FiDi, and Jersey City all in one afternoon.

What’s Next?

I’m still learning, and the pace is a LOT, but my own investment philosophy is starting to take shape. I’ve become weirdly obsessed with the lab-grown diamond industry lately - not that I would allow anyone to propose to me with one…but I’ll save that for another post.

Let’s Chat. Whether you’re a founder, an investor, or just a bypasser: if you want to discuss the next breakthrough in K-Beauty, the next “K-Pop Demon Hunters,” or the B2B SaaS solution that will survive the AI doom, my inbox is open.

Follow along to watch this newbie ramp up in Seoul the next 2 months and then do it all over again in SF!!!!

xx