Today we’d like to introduce you to Zeynep Donmez.
Hi Zeynep, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
Since high school, I knew deep down that I was meant to do something meaningful with my life. I had it all planned out: build a career, travel the world, and eventually settle down and have children.
I followed much of that plan—just not in the order I expected.
I finished university six months pregnant and newly married. At 21, an age when many young women are still discovering who they are, I was becoming a wife and a mother before I had fully discovered myself.
The life I had imagined quickly became very different from the reality I was living.
The first years of motherhood were some of the most difficult years of my life. I was overwhelmed by the emotional weight of a marriage that wasn’t right for me while raising two young children without much of a village around me.
Somewhere along the way, I completely lost myself—even the parts of myself I thought I knew.
Most of my longtime friends were still in North Jersey, where I grew up, and it was difficult for them to understand my new life. I felt isolated and alone, living in a home that never truly felt like mine and trying every day to be everything my children needed.
Then came one morning I will never forget.
There was nothing particularly unusual about that day. But I woke up feeling different. For the first time in a long time, I felt refreshed. I felt hopeful.
And I remember thinking, I need to change my life.
I decided to leave my marriage.
Suddenly, I was a single mother of two with no job, no substantial résumé, and thousands of dollars in debt.
But something happens when failure no longer feels like an option.
When you have no other choice but to make it, you make it.
That became my mindset.
I started DoorDashing with my two toddlers in the backseat. To be completely honest, I’m not the greatest driver, so that chapter didn’t last very long.
I also started an online business reselling clothing for profit. I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills.
Eventually, I found work as an aide for children with autism. My plan was to return to school for my teaching certification. Teaching seemed practical: it would provide a career while allowing me to maintain a schedule that worked for my children.
Around that time, a longtime friend of mine who worked in education said something that would eventually change my life.
“Zey, you’re an amazing teacher, but you’re a businesswoman. If you go into this industry, you’re going to end up doing paperwork, and you’re not going to like it.”
She kept telling me about a colleague who had entered the electrolysis industry—permanent hair removal that often serves women struggling with unwanted facial hair, including hair caused by hormonal changes.
At first, her suggestions went in one ear and out the other.
Electrolysis? I barely knew what it was.
Was I really going to leave everything, spend money I didn’t have to go back to school, and enter an industry I knew almost nothing about?
It sounded crazy.
But my friend wouldn’t stop bringing it up.
Then one day, I happened to be near her area and asked her to dinner.
She said, “No. You’re coming to my electrolysis appointment.”
Fine. I went.
That day, I met the owner of Magnolia Electrolysis in New Jersey. I walked into the appointment knowing almost nothing about the industry.
But I remember sitting there and thinking:
This feels right.
Getting through electrolysis school was its own challenge. At the time, I wasn’t speaking with my family, I didn’t have reliable childcare, and coordinating care for my children while attending school seemed almost impossible.
Somehow, miraculously, I found a way.
That’s a story of its own.
I finished electrolysis school without a real business plan. I had no idea how I would afford to open a business, and I certainly didn’t have experience running one.
Then another seemingly ordinary moment changed everything.
Back in Pennsylvania, I went to support a woman from our Turkish community who owned a nail business inside Sola Salons in Langhorne. While she was doing my nails, she casually mentioned that a room would soon become available because another business owner was expanding.
She didn’t know much about what I was trying to do, and I didn’t think much of the comment at first.
Then I walked outside.
I opened Instagram and saw an advertisement for Sola Salons.
Something in me said, Call.
Maybe I didn’t need a huge business. Maybe I could start with one room and simply see what happened.
So I called.
They told me I could put down a deposit and have eight weeks to prepare.
That same day, I walked back inside, looked at the room, and put the deposit on a credit card that still had some available credit.
And just like that, Lavanta began.
Around this time, my family and I reconnected, and they began supporting me and helping with some of the investment. My father was understandably hesitant. From his perspective, his daughter was already in debt and was now investing even more money into an industry in which she had virtually no experience.
I never blamed him for questioning it.
Instead, I quietly thought:
I’m going to prove you wrong.
I already had significant debt, and I was crazy enough to nearly double it.
But I kept coming back to the same belief:
When you have no other choice but to make it, you make it.
I named my business Lavanta, the Turkish word for lavender.
Lavender represents qualities that became deeply connected to my own journey: femininity, strength, healing and renewal.
What I didn’t expect was how the name would begin following me.
I started noticing lavender everywhere.
One day, I noticed a small lavender tattoo on a coworker’s arm. “Is that lavender?” I asked her.
She smiled and said, “Yeah. I love lavender.”
I’d walk into places and notice lavender flowers. Little reminders seemed to appear everywhere.
Maybe they were coincidences. Maybe they weren’t.
But every time I saw lavender, I became a little less afraid of what I was stepping into.
Then came opening day.
I walked into Piazza’s Bakery in Levittown to pick up a cake. The man behind the counter handed it to me and extended his arm.
There, covering part of his arm, was a huge lavender tattoo.
I couldn’t believe it.
“Is that a lavender tattoo?” I asked.
“Yeah, it is.”
I walked back to my car and started crying.
Something inside me felt certain:
This was going to work.
Lavanta opened on November 28.
But opening a business doesn’t mean customers magically walk through the door.
I was still working at the school from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. My business phone wasn’t ringing. I practiced on friends and offered free sessions so I could continue developing my skills.
Most of the calls I received were spam.
Then one afternoon, I was leaving the school after my shift when my phone rang.
Assuming it was another spam call, I answered with a slightly irritated, “Yes?”
A woman’s voice responded:
“Hi, do you guys do electrolysis?”
I immediately realized what I had done.
Embarrassed, I laughed and said, “Hey girl, I thought you were a spam call! Yes, this is Lavanta Electrolysis.”
I scheduled her consultation for that night.
Her name was Kiley, and she became Lavanta’s very first client.
Kiley stayed with Lavanta through the completion of her treatments, and she will always hold a special place in my heart. She wasn’t simply my first appointment. She was the first person outside of my immediate circle who trusted what I was building.
From there, something much bigger than I anticipated began to grow.
Our mission at Lavanta became Healing Through Beauty.
I thought I was creating a place where I could help people regain their confidence and heal insecurities through my work.
What I didn’t realize was that Lavanta was healing me, too.
The clients who walked through my door brought their own stories—their insecurities, hardships, transformations, divorces, careers, motherhood, relationships and new beginnings.
In helping other people feel like themselves again, I began finding myself again.
On November 28, 2026, Lavanta will celebrate its second anniversary.
In less than two years, the little one-room business I nervously put on a credit card has grown into an eight-room practice in Bensalem, Pennsylvania.
I’ve had the privilege of creating employment opportunities for two other women, with a third soon joining us. We’ve expanded beyond electrolysis to include hair-restoration services, continuing our mission of helping people restore confidence through beauty.
But what I am most proud of isn’t the number of rooms or services.
It’s what happens inside them.
Lavanta has become a place where people walk through the doors for a treatment and often leave having shared pieces of their lives with us.
Women sit in our rooms and tell us their stories. We laugh. Sometimes we cry. We talk about motherhood, relationships, heartbreak, confidence, starting over and becoming ourselves again.
Somewhere along the way, Lavanta stopped feeling like simply a business.
It became a community.
It became a sisterhood.
And perhaps that makes sense, because Lavanta was born from my own journey of rebuilding.
Today, I have many plans for its future. But sometimes I think about that girl in high school who had her entire life mapped out.
Her checklist didn’t happen in the order she expected.
I finished school.
I became a mother.
I found my career.
I built something of my own.
And now I want to travel the world—and continue discovering who Zeynep is.
Almost every day, a new client eventually asks me the same question:
“How did you get into this business?”
And every time, I smile.
I usually start with God.
Then I begin telling this story.
I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity to finally share it beyond the walls of Lavanta.
And if there is one thing I hope someone takes from my story, it is this:
When you have no choice but to make it, you will make it.
Don’t be so afraid of change that you stay somewhere you’ve lost yourself.
Don’t underestimate what can happen when you take one seemingly unreasonable step toward a life that feels right.
My path wasn’t straight. It wasn’t part of some perfectly executed business plan. There were moments when I didn’t have the money, the experience, the support or even the certainty that what I was doing would work.
I simply kept taking the next step.
And somehow, those steps led me to Lavanta.
A business I thought I was building to support my children ended up helping me rebuild myself.
Healing Through Beauty wasn’t just a tagline.
It became my story.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
The road was rocky with so many potholes. There were many obstacles in the way I had taken a huge risk of applying for new credit card and maxing them out with no backup.
Childcare was hard. Because I had just started my practice. My craft was not fully perfected, but I was learning them along the way.
Some days I had to bring my children to the office.
The original office that I had kept losing electric electricity, and I would lose out on clients.
Training an employee was hard. Keeping clients and motivating them to finish. Their treatments was even harder.
But each obstacle has its hardships and lessons that were learned to make Lavanta what it is today
Great, so let’s talk business. Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
We provide electrolysis permanent hair removal. We specialize in. Full body hair removal however, most of our clientele comes for pcos hirsuitism hormonal unwanted facial hair.
We also do all alma ted hair restoration services. Where we regrow hair for hair loss due to glp 1, shedding, postpartum, alopecia cases and etc.
We will be adding more services in the upcoming year.
What were you like growing up?
Growing up, I was always a go-getter. I love connecting with people and I love working. I was a very headstrong young girl I wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://Lavantaelectrolysis.glossgenius.com
- Instagram: Lavanta electrolysis
- Facebook: Lavanta electrolysis
