Recent local news reports of a group of women in Kocaeli, western Turkey, who defied a snowstorm to attend a traditional gathering at a friend’s home sparked amusement online. “They’re right not to skip it,” social media users joked, praising the draw of the iconic gün tabağı – a platter filled with borek, dolma, cakes and salads.
In Turkish households, few things signal care and community as much as a tray filled with homemade pastries and fresh tea, and the chatter of women catching up in a friend’s living room. For generations, this scene has meant more than comfort – it has also served as a way for women to support each other financially, emotionally and socially.
These regular gatherings, known as Altın Günü or “gold day”, blend tradition with practicality. One woman hosts the group and prepares a generous platter of sweet and savoury dishes, while the other participants contribute money or gold. The system functions as both a social ritual and a rotating savings fund, with each member taking turns to receive the collective contributions.
The tradition gained popularity during Turkey’s urbanisation in the mid-20th century, when women, particularly housewives, sought new ways to maintain social ties after moving from the countryside to towns and cities. But today, both the platter and the savings have become harder to sustain. Turkey’s economic woes, along with evolving lifestyles, are reshaping the future of this time-honoured custom.
Food inflation in Turkey continues to rise, despite easing globally. In March 2025, the official annual inflation rate was 38.1 per cent, according to the Turkish Statistical Institute (TURKSTAT). An independent group of economists, ENAG, placed it at 75.2 per cent. The rising cost of staples like flour, oil and cheese has turned what was once a proud display of abundance into a financial burden.
Economist Serap Durusoy says this pressure is now affecting not just daily meals but also hospitality traditions. “With more than half the population earning below the hunger threshold,” she says, “even inviting guests for tea and pastries can feel like a luxury.”
Sociologist Gökben Demirbaş traces the history of Gold Days to a once-exclusive practice called Kabul Günü, or reception day, which was popular among upper and middle-class women in early Republican Turkey. “It spread gradually to working-class neighbourhoods, especially as women moved from villages to cities,” she says. “Over time, it evolved into a system where women entertained, had fun, and saved money all at once.”
But this democratisation is now reversing. Demirbaş says that today, women coming from working-class families are withdrawing from these gatherings.
“The reasons are straightforward: financial strain and entering the labour force,” she explains. In her 2015 research, Demirbaş found that some low-income women still ran small-scale savings days using Turkish lira, but the food served at those events had become more modest and less prioritised.
Meanwhile, middle-class women continue to host multiple gatherings, complete with rich platters and careful planning, maintaining the platter as a social status marker.
Many women are adjusting the tradition rather than abandoning it. Döne Kapılar, a 68-year-old housewife, says Gold Days are becoming less frequent in her circle. “Making all those pastries takes so much effort,” she says. “There’s the cooking, the cleaning before and after, the dishes – if we have the money, we meet at a café. If the weather is nice, we go to the park. I actually prefer open-air gatherings—it gets us out of the house and doesn’t cost anything.”
Some hosts have streamlined the menu, replacing elaborate trays with simpler fare. “Now it’s more like a lunch table,” says Kapılar. “Soup, chicken and rice, maybe breakfast foods with simit and tea. It’s easier and more affordable.”
While the food has become simpler or even symbolic, the financial element of Gold Day continues. Housewife Hatice Er, 67, has participated in the gatherings since she was young. Today, she takes part in a “dollar day”, where each of the 12 participants contributes $50 per month. But unlike the past, there’s no platter and no physical gathering. “It’s just about saving now,” she says. “Even my grandchildren are part of it – I joined on their behalf and passed along the savings.”
The form of savings is changing, too. Many groups have switched to Turkish lira or small-dollar contributions while gold prices climb beyond reach. These systems still encourage saving even though the amounts are smaller, according to Durusoy, yet the social function has largely faded.
Even as women organise and participate in savings-based gatherings, access to that money often remains limited. Demirbaş cautions that women are still expected to spend their earnings “responsibly” and prioritise household or children’s needs.
“Spending on themselves – on hobbies or personal time – is frequently viewed as selfish,” she says, adding that some women may not even control the funds they contribute or receive, depending on family dynamics. “This reflects a form of economic violence in the home,” Demirbas adds. “It’s a way of undermining women’s labour and autonomy.”
Academic Elif Özlem Özçatal sees potential even within these limitations. “Gold Days give women micro-level opportunities to learn budgeting and manage finances,” she says. “They challenge the idea that women are just consumers and create small-scale financial agency.”
While Gold Days offer women a form of community, the spaces available to them remain limited. A study by the Istanbul Planning Agency found that 51 per cent of housewives said their primary form of socialising was going to the park – usually with children in tow. This blurs the line between leisure and caregiving.
Sociologist Ezgi Karmaz argues that Gold Days reflects women’s negotiation with patriarchy. “They are creating social spaces through culturally acceptable means like cooking and hosting,” she says. “But these practices also reinforce the same gender roles they navigate.”
Özçatal underscores the gap in access. “Men have cafés, clubs and sports venues,” she says. “Women, conversely, are still restricted to semi-private or domestic spheres. This deepens gender inequality.”
As economic pressures reshape everyday life in Turkey, long-standing traditions like Altın Günü are also being redefined. The food may be less elaborate and the gatherings less frequent, but the desire to connect, support one another and save together remains.