I’d never been truly happy with my teeth, but was never unhappy enough to do something radical about it. Then, two things seemed to happen side by side. Perhaps it was the rise of selfie culture, or the advent of video calls and virtual meetings, but all of sudden there they were. My teeth, staring back at me, in high definition, in all their overlapping glory. In the years following Covid-19, visual culture and social media having only ramped up, I grew increasingly conscious about my teeth, and what I revealed when I smiled, to the extent that it was knocking my confidence and affecting how I interacted with others. During the same period, something else was happening.

There was a time, not long ago, when if you wanted something cosmetic done, you took yourself to Harley Street. The process, from start to finish, would take weeks, if you were lucky, and could cost the same as a deposit for a flat in a neighbouring street. It meant surgical self-improvement was the preserve of a privileged few. Then, another option emerged. A quicker, cheaper solution. Suddenly, someone like me, without the means and spare time of Harley Street habitués, could board a plane and return a few days later looking, and feeling, like a completely different person.  

Last year, according to the Turkish Dental Association, around 250,000 people visited Turkey for cosmetic dental work, almost two-thirds of them travelling from the United Kingdom. The attraction? Cost, of course. But also speed and expertise. In the past decade, Turkey has emerged as a leading hub for cosmetic dentistry, with state-of-the-art facilities and a network of interdependent clinics that benefit from agglomerated economies. The result is that Turkey can offer world-leading procedures at prices typically between 50 and 70 per cent cheaper than in the UK. There’s also the fact you can get a luxury holiday out of it. Many packages include chauffeur-driven transfers and accommodation at five-star hotels.

Although I’d done a significant amount of research (read ‘days and days and days’), I still went into this with a lot of apprehension. About the treatment itself, yes, but also about the end result. The explosion of Turkey’s dental industry has given rise to the term ‘Turkey teeth’ – shorthand for bright-white nashers that look overdone, oversized and unnatural. I was terrified of returning looking like they keyboard of a Steinway piano. 

My research led me to a company called Dentakay, which, Google told me, was established in 2009 by Dr Gülay Akay and named Best Dental Clinic in Europe at the European Awards in both 2022 and 2025 (Dentakay treated more than 6,000 patients from the UK in 2024 alone). Dentakay now has six clinics in Turkey, one in Mexico (popular among Hollywood stars, apparently), one in Saudi Arabia, and, crucially, a consulting office in London. It was here that I had a CT scan, which was then sent to a dentist in Turkey who came up with a treatment plan. The London appointment was reassuring. We went through my teeth in detail, discussed what would suit me, and, crucially, what wouldn’t. The focus was very much on achieving a natural look.

From there, the process was seamless. Flights were arranged; accommodation booked. When I arrived in Istanbul, I was met at the airport by a member of the team and transferred to the five-star Renaissance Istanbul Polat Bosphorus in a squeaky-clean Mercedes-Benz. Small details, but, you know. The following morning, I was collected and taken to the clinic.

What struck me most about Dentakay’s facility was how different it felt to what I had imagined. It wasn’t clinical in the traditional sense, more open, bright and modern – a far cry from the clinics of Harley Street. The atmosphere was serene and friendly, not intimidating, which, as someone who has always been scared stiff of dentists, made all the difference.

After initial scans and X-rays, I met my treating dentist, Dr. Ahmet, who specialises in cosmetic and restorative work. We went through the full treatment plan in detail, including the shape, structure and overall finish of the teeth. Again, the emphasis was very clearly on avoiding anything that felt artificial. One of the most interesting parts was being involved in the design stage, choosing tone, refining shape, and understanding how small adjustments can impact the final result. The process felt far more collaborative than I expected – you really do get to choose the smile you want.

In my case, that involved three tooth extractions, 28 zirconium crowns, and six root canals. The total cost was a little over £5,500, including my flights and accommodation. For the same procedure, without the holiday thrown in, a private dentist in the UK quoted me almost £25,000. Here, a single crown can cost more than £1,000.

Later that week, as I was recovering, I sat down with Dr. Gülay Akay, Dentakay’s founder and chief medical officer, whose background spans more than 16 years across cosmetic dentistry and implantology. Akay spoke about how she built her business model, particularly the decision to keep everything under one roof, from clinical teams to laboratory production.

“We’ve created a system where everything sits in-house,” she explained. “From our doctors to logistics to materials. It allows us to compress time for patients who don’t have it, without compromising on quality. Patients today want to understand every stage. We guide them through the entire process, step by step, always prioritising the best possible treatment. There are no compromises.”

Seeing my new teeth for the first time is one of those moments that’s hard to articulate. It’s a cliché, but it felt transformative. They looked completely natural, for one thing. Not overly white, not uniform, just a more refined version of what I had before. Using an on-site laboratory and an AI-led design system, each tooth is crafted and finished individually. There was also the immediacy of the whole thing. The result, and the impact on how I felt about myself, was instant.

What stood out about the process itself, was just how stress-free it all was. The whole journey, from initial consultation to final result, was straightforward and comfortable. As someone who has always been nervous about dental work, the constant communication and reassurance took away almost all of my anxiety.

Had the advent of the front-facing camera not brought my teeth into sharp relief, I may have continued along, unhappy with my smile, but never motivated to do anything about it. Thankfully, other technological breakthroughs in Turkey mean that I no longer have to stifle smiles on Zoom calls.

Dentakay London, 13 Grosvenor Gardens, SW1W 0BD, dentakay.com

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