In September 2011 a Turkish interviewer asked Demet Mutlu which customer spent the most money on Trendyol in a given month. Most founders would have heard a softball. She heard something closer to an invitation to confess. The site was eighteen months old. It opened fifteen new "boutiques" every morning, each one a timed sale of discounted designer goods that vanished when the clock ran out, and it had already passed the revenue its founders had projected for year three before closing its first. Mutlu laughed and answered: Galiba benim! I think it's me. "I buy something every day," she said, "and I dress only from Trendyol."
She was thirty. She had been born in New York and schooled in England, Italy, and a French lycée in Turkey. She had worked in Switzerland and Japan, enrolled at Harvard Business School, and left it. The press release that accompanied the interview gave her name as Demet Mutlu Üçok, carrying the surname of the man who was then her husband and was also her co-founder. The conversation is short and mostly cheerful, and it is full of small facts that turn out to matter. The company had once tracked its best customers by name, and one of them spent 10,000 lira a month. Istanbul ordered the most, then Ankara, then İzmir, "and we have many members from the East." The cargo companies Trendyol used had opened new branches in several provinces to handle the volume and had been forced to hire people to staff them.
Then, almost in passing, came the detail this piece keeps returning to. "This summer," she said, "we kept sending orders to a boat."
She did not say whose boat it was, or where it was anchored, or how a courier in the Turkish summer gets a parcel onto a hull. The line sits in the transcript without elaboration, between a remark about customer loyalty and a question about regional demand. It is the sort of anecdote a founder tells because it is charming. It also contains, in compressed form, most of what Demet Mutlu would spend the next thirteen years building: a customer with no fixed address, a supply chain obliged to find that customer anyway, and a founder who considered herself the most demanding customer of all.
Thirteen years later she was suing her former husband and co-founder in the High Court in London, and, according to Bloomberg, setting up an investment firm in the same city to manage a fortune from a company in which she held, by one published cap table, just under seven percent. Between the boat and the courtroom lies the story of how a woman with no single hometown built the most important consumer marketplace in Turkey, sold most of it to China, and then used it to carry Turkish goods to Berlin, Baku, Bucharest, and Riyadh.
By the Numbers
The Trendyol Arc
$300KStarting capital, launched from Mutlu's home with five people
12MMonthly visitors at nineteen months old, per Fortune (2011)
$26MKleiner Perkins' first investment in Turkey, August 2011
$728MAlibaba's initial investment in Trendyol, 2018
$16.5BValuation in August 2021, making Trendyol Turkey's first decacorn
27European countries served by Trendyol's October 2020 launch
₺700MPrice of naming rights to the Süper Lig and TFF First League, July 2023
A Girl Who Was Told She Could
The family has a migration story in it, and Mutlu has told it plainly. Her father, Bilal Mutlu, came from Ankara and went to New York young. He built things for a living, construction projects in New York and in Turkey, and in an interview from around 2012 she noted that he was seventy-six and still active. A man who left the Anatolian capital for Manhattan and was still working past seventy is a particular kind of father. He was also, a few years before that interview, the man who refused to speak to his daughter for two months.
Her mother came from Adana, the cotton city on the Çukurova plain. She studied at Tarsus American College, one of the old American missionary schools on the southern coast, then in Istanbul, then in New York, where she met Bilal and went to work at Citibank. So the mother made the same crossing as the father, by a more institutional route: from a provincial Turkish city through an American school and into an American bank. Both parents, Mutlu said, had intense working lives. "They were good role models for me," she told one interviewer. "From a young age I was always told that I could do it." At a youth panel in 2012 she singled out her mother as the decisive model, and in the same talk said that not working had never been an option she considered.
The child moved before she could object. She spent three years in New York, then the family went to England, where she attended the third, fourth, and fifth grades of primary school. There was high school in Italy, and then the finish at Saint Michel, a French lycée in Turkey. She went back to New York for university, studying economics at NYU. The Turkish accounts say she graduated first in her class, the World Economic Forum's archived profile says the same in English, and Wikipedia records cum laude.
Read as a list, that is an itinerary. Read as a formation, it produces a person who belongs to every system she enters and is native to none, who learns early that the rules of a place can be absorbed quickly and then put to use. Mutlu has never described her childhood in those terms. She describes it as a sequence of schools. The pattern shows up anyway, as it tends to with people who are raised in transit.
The Shopper Who Studied the Receipt
In the five years after NYU, Mutlu worked at Procter & Gamble, Deloitte, and Altria Group, the tobacco company, in Switzerland, Japan, Turkey, and the United States. She later summed up the period in a way that sounds like a résumé and is really a curriculum: "As a business graduate I always worked at global companies. I gained experience in finance, in production, in business development, and in marketing, in all of them." She was not specializing. She was going through every function a consumer-goods company has, which happens to be the set of functions an e-commerce company needs to own.
The useful part of those years happened at home. She shopped online, constantly, because she was too busy to shop any other way. "I love shopping and fashion very much," she said in 2011. "Because I was so busy, I was shopping from the internet. So I entered this sector first as a consumer." An attendee of her 2012 panel wrote that it was during her years in Japan, one of the most advanced online retail markets in the world at the time, that she had practiced buying online herself. A 2012 Turkish press account was more pointed: she had modeled Trendyol on the American e-commerce site where she shopped most. An American profile from 2014 named the comparison directly, calling Trendyol "an online shopping site like Gilt Group in the US."
Gilt was the New York flash-sale club that turned luxury overstock into a daily event: limited-time sales, members-only access, a countdown clock. It was one of the defining consumer internet businesses of the late 2000s, and it was a model that could travel.
At Harvard, which she entered in 2008 by her World Economic Forum biography and in 2009 by Wikipedia, she was not there for the general management degree. "I decided to do an MBA at Harvard," she said, "because I wanted to be an entrepreneur, and for that I needed a good education." She sat in on sessions with visiting founders and, in her classmates' telling and her own, focused on entrepreneurship. Then came a summer back in Turkey after the first year, and with it the founding observation every account repeats: a gap in e-commerce, especially in fashion.
Not everyone agrees there was a gap. Years later, under a LinkedIn post celebrating her, a Turkish commenter named Çağdaş Keskin noted that "there wasn't actually a gap at that time." Markafoni, an earlier Turkish flash-sale site, had people "standing watch in the mornings" to catch its drops. In his view Trendyol survived because it innovated, though he preferred Markafoni's style, "which Trendyol had adopted too back then." He was right that the market was not empty. Markafoni had been acquired, and a 2011 profile listed Trendyol's funding alongside gittigidiyor.com, markafoni.com, and grupanya.com as the big Turkish e-commerce companies to be bought or funded in a few months. Mutlu had not discovered an empty field. She had discovered a field where people were already lining up in the morning, and she bet she could run it better.
That distinction matters. The founding myth is a lightning-strike insight. What the record shows is closer to a professional consumer who had studied the receipt for years and concluded she could build the store.
Two Months of Silence
He didn't talk to me for two months.
— Demet Mutlu, on telling her father she was leaving Harvard Business School (Women 2.0, May 2014)
It is the most human sentence in her public record, and she says it lightly, the way people describe a wound that has since become a credential. Consider it from the father's side. A man from Ankara who had made it in New York, married to a woman who had come up through an American school and an American bank, watched his daughter finish first at NYU, collect four countries' worth of blue-chip experience, get into Harvard Business School, and then leave it to sell discounted dresses on the internet in Istanbul. For his generation of Turkish strivers, America was the destination. She was turning back.
She described the decision to Fast Company Türkiye in January 2021, in what the magazine said was the first exclusive interview she had ever given the press: "I said I would found an e-commerce company in Turkey, and I left America and came to Istanbul. I first started the business in my home. It was a place just like the offices in Silicon Valley, and we had started with only five people."
"A place just like the offices in Silicon Valley" means her living room. The English-language press later called it a kitchen table. A Turkish LinkedIn commenter, defending her against the charge that Trendyol was only money, wrote that she had built it "in the living room of her house, scratching with her fingernails." The starting capital was $300,000. Her first partners, by Turkish accounts, were Emre Kurttepeli, founder of the Turkish portal Mynet, who invested, and Sidar Şahin, an established name in Turkish e-commerce. Both were men who had already done in Turkish internet what she proposed to do in Turkish fashion.
The operating partner was Begüm Tekin. Little about Tekin appears in the public record beyond her co-founder title and a sliver of equity on later cap tables. What survives is one sentence Mutlu offered in 2011, which describes Tekin by describing herself: "My partner Begüm Tekin also loves fashion very much. She also looks at everything as a consumer." Two professional shoppers, then. A 2012 report on the company's growth credited the founding to Mutlu and Tekin together, and a 2011 profile said Mutlu "shares this success" with her. The third co-founder, Evren Üçok, would become chairman, and that story comes later.
Trendyol opened in March 2010. (One Turkish biography dates the founding to March 18, 2009, which probably reflects incorporation or the decision rather than the launch. The record is inconsistent here, and this piece follows the March 2010 opening that her own World Economic Forum profile gives.) At a panel at Yıldız Technical University in April 2012, held during a storm that kept most of the audience home, Mutlu, the youngest speaker and the first, told students something no Harvard case study would put first: "Finding the idea is the easiest part of starting a business. After that it is very hard: marketing, finance, being a manager, getting investors, being a good leader, choosing a team, developing them, training them." She added that a good and complementary partner can be very valuable, "perhaps as in her own business."
Every Day a Broadway Play
The mechanics of early Trendyol are worth describing because they explain its velocity. Each morning the site opened about fifteen boutiques, curated temporary storefronts of branded and designer goods, discounted by up to 85 percent. Each boutique lasted a short time and then disappeared. The next day there were fifteen new ones. Members, who had to sign up, came back daily because the inventory was gone tomorrow.
You know how a Broadway play works: you prepare for days, then you perform, and it's over. For us, every day is a Broadway play.
— Demet Mutlu, interview with SacitAslan.com, September 14, 2011 (translated from Turkish)
The metaphor is more precise than it looks. A Broadway production runs on rehearsal that the audience never sees and a performance that cannot be paused. Opening night is fixed, and the curtain comes down whether or not the run went well. Translated to retail, that means buying, photography, copywriting, and allocation compressed into a cycle whose public deadline arrives every morning. It also means the customer's attention is spent in a single scarce window. Flash sales are retail run as theater. The daily curtain creates urgency, and urgency creates the habit of opening the site at breakfast that kept Markafoni's customers on watch and soon kept Trendyol's.
The numbers came fast. When Fortune named Mutlu to its list of the ten most powerful women entrepreneurs in October 2011, the nineteen-month-old site was drawing twelve million visitors a month, had four million members and 350 employees, and was working with a thousand brands. A Turkish rendering of the citation said she had taken multitasking to an advanced level. By April 2012 the headcount was 768 and revenue had passed $100 million in roughly two years. There were 4.5 million active members, 70 percent of them women, and the company said it sold a product every three seconds. A contemporaneous profile put the site among the hundred most-trafficked in Turkey.
Two operating ideas from this period lasted longer than the flash-sale format.
The first was that the members ran the company. "Our members are our bosses," she said in 2011. "They always want and expect better. You have to make an effort to make them happy." Founders often say things like this. Trendyol built it into the product. By 2014, members could vote on the site and on Facebook on upcoming daily deals, and Trendyol adjusted its offerings to real-time demand. Turkey ranked seventh in the world on Facebook and eighth on Twitter at the time, so social voting was a demand signal drawn from the national habit.
The second idea was Milla, the in-house label Trendyol launched early. Milla closed the loop between the store and the factory. A new Milla design was piloted in a small batch on Trendyol. If it sold, the design went to one of Turkey's many garment factories for full production. If it didn't, it died quietly. That is fast fashion with the risk taken out at the front, and it only works in a country with a large apparel manufacturing base close to the end customer. Turkey had that base. Mutlu later said, in the Fast Company Türkiye interview, that a story about Trendyol had to begin there: "Turkey has a strong ready-to-wear manufacturing..." The magazine's excerpt cuts off mid-sentence, but the industrial logic is clear.
At Davos in January 2017, she described the method in more general terms:
We've made some mistakes with brands that were not successful but we have relaunched the brands in different ways, or we have tested brands along too smaller segments and small cohort of customers. So if it works well, we will scale or if it does not work, we will re-adjust. You can't expect to launch something perfectly. That is what I love about it.
— Demet Mutlu, interview with Lianna Brinded, Business Insider, Davos, January 17, 2017
That is what I love about it. The founder who called herself the top customer also enjoyed the failure rate. The two attitudes fit together. Someone who buys something every day has a high tolerance for buying the wrong thing.
The American Money Comes to Istanbul
Six months after Trendyol opened, Tiger Global invested. Tiger, the New York firm that had made its venture name backing internet companies in emerging markets, was effectively applying the same reasoning Mutlu had: a model proven in America, transplanted into a large, young, under-penetrated consumer market. According to Mutlu, investor offers had been arriving since the sixth month.
In August 2011, Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers led a $26 million round. The Turkish press noted proudly that it was Kleiner's first investment in Turkey and listed the papers that covered it: the Financial Times, the Huffington Post, Dow Jones, the Wall Street Journal. By October, Fortune counted $50 million raised. A 2014 profile put the Tiger-and-Kleiner total at $36 million, called Mutlu the first female founder in Turkey to raise capital at that level, and said Trendyol had become a $150 million company within two years. A Turkish account put the $150 million valuation at sixteen months. The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development followed. At Davos in 2017 she gave her own total: "around $60 million from Tiger Global, Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers, and the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development."
That money carried more than capital. A Kleiner check in 2011 told every Turkish brand, supplier, cargo company, and prospective employee that a famous American firm had looked at this living-room company and decided it was real. Mutlu, raised among Americans and educated by them, knew how to read that signal and how to send it. She also knew how unusual her case was. "Only 10% of venture capital funding goes to women leading companies, this is a problem," she told Business Insider. "I was fortunate enough to raise around $60 million." In the same interview she said: "being a woman is a huge advantage in the consumer business. Women are key consumers and being one of them and understanding what the consumers want can be very impactful as a [leader], especially trying to raise capital." Her advantage, as she framed it, came from the same place as her two months of paternal silence. She was the customer.
The same year Trendyol opened, a Belgian named Barend Van den Brande registered a venture firm in his home country with little fanfare and no interest from Silicon Valley's established firms. He had worked as a financial analyst in Boston for a while and had few connections. As a boy he had found bumblebees his grandfather kept in the freezer, their stiffened bodies piled where the ice cream should have been, and he spent the rest of his life trying to understand how strangely intelligence could show itself. His firm, Hummingbird Ventures, worked out of Antwerp and, with partner Fırat İleri, became one of the more successful small funds in Europe, partly by backing a Turkish mobile-game studio called Peak Games. Hummingbird's partners came to believe that every "legendary" company goes through two or three near-death moments, a lesson they credit to Peak and its sibling Gram Games.
Mutlu was a founding partner and investor in Peak Games, alongside Evren Üçok. It became one of the largest companies in mobile gaming and was acquired by Zynga for $1.8 billion. So in the same few years the same couple helped start two of the most valuable Turkish internet companies ever built, one in fashion and one in games, each financed by foreigners who had looked at Istanbul and seen what local capital mostly hadn't. Mutlu also invested in Doktorsitesi.com, a health portal, and the World Economic Forum later listed her as an angel investor in six technology companies worldwide. The shopper was becoming a buyer of companies.
From Boutique to Bazaar
The flash-sale model has a ceiling, and everyone in the business eventually hits it. Discounted overstock is finite. Brands tire of being associated with markdowns. Customers who come for 85 percent off do not stay for 10 percent off. Gilt, the American model, ended up sold for a fraction of its peak valuation. Trendyol avoided that fate by turning into a different company.
The change does not appear on any single date. You see it in the accumulated product lines. By 2014, Trendyol had more than seven million subscribers and 700 employees and was talking about widening its categories. Mutlu said then that Turkey's growing internet penetration and credit card use were "100% responsible" for scaling the business, and she meant it as a statement about infrastructure, not modesty. By the late 2010s, Trendyol described itself as "an online marketplace that enables local merchants to sell online through the platform." The boutiques had become a bazaar. The curated daily performance had become an open stage for any Turkish merchant who wanted to rent it.
The supporting businesses followed. Dolap, a second-hand fashion marketplace founded in 2016, was acquired in 2018 and later reported 1.4 million active individual sellers. Trendyol Express, its own delivery network, was founded in 2018. The 2011 detail about cargo companies opening branches and hiring staff to serve Trendyol had been a sign that the company's growth was outrunning its logistics partners. By 2018 Trendyol owned the trucks. Trendyol Tech was approved as an official research and development center by the Ministry of Industry and Technology in 2019, working on Turkish-language processing, real-time data analysis, machine learning, and image processing. Then came Trendyol Go and Food for instant grocery and meal delivery, and Trendyol Wallet for payments. In 2024 the company launched its first in-house large language model.
In April 2019, Ekonomist named her Woman Entrepreneur of the Year and ran an interview under the headline "Bölgenin en büyük platformu olacağız": We will become the region's largest platform. The goal was no longer to be Turkey's leading fashion site, as she had told a magazine in 2011. It was the region.
Some changes are visible only in the details. A LinkedIn commenter in Istanbul's Pendik district wrote around 2022 that Trendyol's parcel lockers had appeared on Reyhan Caddesi, his street. Another remarked that Mutlu had "evaluated the consumer society's supply well." A third simply asked: "Is Trendyol one person's success?!" Customers rarely ask that about a store. It's the kind of question people start asking once a company has become part of the country's daily routine.
Selling the Majority to China
In 2018, Alibaba invested $728 million in Trendyol. Turkish accounts describe it as buying 75 percent of the company. Fast Company Türkiye reported that Mutlu had publicly set a goal of making Trendyol a unicorn, and that the Alibaba deal achieved it: "one of the most successful strategic partnerships of recent times."
On paper, the founder who had once called her members her bosses had now given the majority to a company from Hangzhou. Wikipedia's article on Trendyol is careful to say there is no formal integration between Trendyol and Alibaba's other e-commerce sites, and that Trendyol goods on Alibaba's B2B platform come through third-party resellers. Trendyol remained Turkish in face and in operation. Its owner was Chinese. In April 2021, Alibaba added $350 million in a capital increase at a $9.4 billion valuation, bringing its total to $1.078 billion and its stake, by Turkish reports, to 86.5 percent. One published cap table from that period lists the founders' remaining holdings: Demet Mutlu at 6.96 percent, Evren Üçok at 5.55, Begüm Tekin at 0.78, and Zeki Güçlü Kaya at 0.21.
Then the price went up sharply. On August 9, 2021, Trendyol announced a $1.5 billion raise at a $16.5 billion valuation. The investors were General Atlantic; SoftBank's Vision Fund 2, making its first investment in Turkey; Princeville Capital; Abu Dhabi's ADQ; and the Qatar Investment Authority. Trendyol became the first Turkish company valued above $10 billion. Within four months the valuation had risen from $9.4 billion to $16.5 billion. Seven percent of $16.5 billion is a little over a billion dollars, and Bloomberg would later call her a billionaire.
The arithmetic is still striking. In 2010 Mutlu owned a large share of a company worth $300,000. In 2021 she owned a small share of a company worth $16.5 billion. Founders sometimes describe that trade as a defeat and sometimes as the whole point. Mutlu has never called it either in public. What she did say, in January 2021 to Fast Company Türkiye, after more than a decade without giving the press an exclusive interview, was that the unicorn goal was finished and the new goal was for Trendyol to become the Turkish company that creates the greatest positive impact. The magazine titled the piece "Mutlu's Big Dream." The pun works in Turkish too, since mutlu means happy.
A Turkish LinkedIn user summarized the deal flatly in a comment: "I know she sold it to the Alibaba group. Still, it's a success, I congratulate her." Another wrote two words: "Main shareholder is Alibaba. Jack Ma." Turkish public opinion did not need the cap table. It had already absorbed the fact that the country's most visible consumer company, the one whose lockers stood on Reyhan Caddesi and whose parcels went to boats, was majority foreign-owned, and that its founder, born in New York, had arranged it.
Exporting the Bazaar
Alibaba's money did not make Trendyol more Chinese. It made Trendyol more exportable, and what it exported was Turkey.
Trendyol had started a German operation in 2018. Germany has the largest Turkish diaspora in Europe, and its customers already knew the brands. On October 2, 2020, the company launched an English-language site serving 27 European countries. Wikipedia's description of the model is the most precise single line about what Trendyol became: it "enables Trendyol to promote Turkish manufacturers and brands around the world." The girl who had grown up in New York, England, and Italy and come back to Turkey had built a way for Turkish goods to go the other direction.
The first foreign office opened in Berlin in mid-2022, with plans for more than 200 employees there and further offices in Amsterdam, Luxembourg, and London. The company expected around €400 million in revenue from the expansion by the end of that year. By 2024, roughly 1.5 million customers in Germany were buying from about 200 Turkish brands through Trendyol. In January 2022, Forbes Middle East reported that Trendyol was planning a dual listing once revenue from abroad reached 30 to 35 percent, which made foreign sales a condition of going public.
Then came the neighbors. In May 2023, under an agreement with Azerbaijan's PASHA Holding, Trendyol launched in Azerbaijan, its second foreign market after Germany. By October 2024 it had about two million customers there and opened an office in Baku. Its Gulf app debuted in August 2023 and was handling 30,000 orders a day by November. That month it signed a memorandum with Saudi Arabia's Cenomi to build a fashion platform for the region. Trendyol opened warehouses in Saudi Arabia and the UAE, extended service to Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, and Qatar, and in 2024 released its first own-brand Ramadan womenswear collection for Gulf customers, an AI-designed collection sold exclusively in the Gulf, and a pop-up store in a Riyadh mall. It announced offices in Dubai and Riyadh that October. In late 2023 it said it would move into Eastern Europe, beginning with the Czech Republic, Greece, Hungary, and Romania. A warehouse in Romania opened in December 2024, and Romanian press reported 500,000 customers within eight months of the official launch.
Milla's logic was now running at continental scale: test in a small cohort, then send the design to the factory. A Ramadan collection is a pilot batch for a region. A Riyadh pop-up is a boutique that opens and then closes.
At home, Trendyol made itself part of the national calendar. It sponsored the Turkish National Olympic Committee and the five Turkish athletes at the Tokyo Games. It sponsored the national football and volleyball teams. On July 12, 2023, it paid ₺700 million for naming rights to the Süper Lig and the TFF First League, taking them over from Spor Toto, the state lottery. For the Paris Olympics it produced an Olympic-themed apparel line, the first time the International Olympic Committee had partnered with a Turkish brand on merchandise, and the goods were made in a Turkish factory. It became an official partner of UEFA Euro 2024 and, in August 2024, main sponsor of the Turkish National Paralympic Committee. In 2024 it also won the inaugural "e-export" award from the Turkish Exporters Assembly.
The country's top football league now carried the name of a company founded in a living room by a woman born in Manhattan and majority-owned by a company in China. Turkish football fans say "Trendyol Süper Lig" every weekend. Brands rarely become that embedded in national life.
What the Regulator Saw
Any marketplace large enough to define its national category eventually faces a familiar charge: that it favors itself. On October 11, 2021, two months after the decacorn round, the Turkish Competition Authority opened an investigation into Trendyol. It concluded in July 2023, and Trendyol was fined about ₺61.3 million for what the authority described as systemic algorithm manipulation and unfair use of third-party marketplace data. Put simply, the regulator found that the platform had used the merchants' own data and its ranking software against those merchants.
There is an uncomfortable continuity here. The early Trendyol was praised for responding to data: members voted, the company adjusted, Milla piloted and scaled. A founder who saw everything through the customer's eyes built a system that saw everything. Once the merchants on the platform were also its competitors, the same visibility became a weapon. The flash-sale curator decided which fifteen boutiques opened each morning, and the marketplace algorithm decided which millions of products surfaced. The regulator's finding was that this curatorial power had been used for the house.
A second episode is murkier and remains an allegation. In 2022 Turkey published a new E-Commerce Law in the Official Gazette, which took effect in January 2023 and was widely understood to restrain the largest platforms. The Cumhuriyet Newspaper Foundation later filed a criminal complaint against the paper's management of that period, alleging they had "received unregistered money," reportedly delivered in a chocolate box, in exchange for manipulative coverage against the law, and Trendyol was named as the alleged payer. The newspaper rejected the accusation, and its management issued statements that differed in tone. No court finding is recorded in the sources available here, and it should be read as an accusation and nothing more. Its existence shows what kind of company Trendyol had become: large enough that a national newspaper's own foundation thought it plausible Trendyol would try to buy coverage of a law written with Trendyol in mind.
In 2022 Trendyol also became the first Turkish e-commerce business to publish a sustainability plan covering carbon, human rights, packaging, waste, and diversity. It partnered with the UN Development Programme on "Villages of Tomorrow," digital centers in rural Turkey that teach technology and smart agriculture. In 2025 it was one of twelve signatories to the EU's voluntary Consumer Protection Commitment. These facts do not cancel the fine. They sit next to it. A company that big has both, and its founder was responsible for both.
The Partner, the Courtroom, the Family Office
At the 2012 panel at Yıldız Technical University, Mutlu talked about her husband. He had supported her enormously, she said, and she had learned a great deal from him. Success in business alone does not make people happy, she told the students, and success is incomplete without a life around it. She was thirty, signing her name Mutlu Üçok, and running a company she had co-founded with the man she was praising.
Evren Üçok was co-founder of Trendyol and of Peak Games. He served as Trendyol's chairman. In August 2023 the Turkish business daily Dünya reported that the asset manager Rota Portföy had partnered with him. He held, on that published cap table, 5.55 percent of the company to her 6.96. In the founding story he appears mostly through other facts: the name on her press release, the partner at Peak, the man who chaired the board. Public accounts of Mutlu tell her story. His does not get told.
On May 14, 2024, Mutlu filed a claim against Üçok in the High Court in London, case number KB-2024-001430. The Turkish business site Patronlar Dünyası reported in July that she had hired Charles Russell Speechlys, a London firm known for private wealth, family property, and partnership disputes. It described the case as a receivables claim against her "former husband and still partner" at Trendyol. The details of what she claims and why were not public in the sources available to me, and this piece will not guess at them. That report already referred to her as Trendyol's "former CEO." The company's leadership by then was Üçok as chairman, Erdem İnan as chief executive, and Çağlayan Çetin as president.
In January 2025, Bloomberg reported that Mutlu, 43, had set up an investment firm in London that year to manage her fortune from Trendyol and various venture bets, and placed her among a growing number of wealthy women in Europe, North America, and the Middle East running their own family offices in what has historically been a male corner of finance. A Spanish financial magazine put it more theatrically: Demet Mutlu takes the last bastion of men in finance.
So the arc runs New York, England, Italy, Istanbul, New York, Japan, Cambridge, Istanbul, and London. The founder who left America to build in Turkey had, at the peak of her wealth, moved the management of that wealth and the dispute over part of it to an English court and an English address. That doesn't need to be read as a betrayal or as a homecoming. It looks like what you'd expect from someone who has never had one fixed place. Her company spent fifteen years learning to deliver to any address, and she has kept changing hers.
Back in that September 2011 interview, before the bazaar, the Chinese money, the football league, the regulator, and the London filing, she was asked about her best customers. She said she was probably the biggest one herself. She said one woman spent 10,000 lira a month. She said the cargo companies were opening branches in the provinces and hiring to keep up. And that summer, she said, they kept sending orders to a boat. Every day a parcel left Istanbul for a place that would not stay still, and every day it got there.