Chasing Matilda Djerf: Watchdog or Witch-hunt?
An opinionated piece exploring the allegations of Matilda Djer’s workplace misconduct and the backlash that followed.
Slow mornings wrapped in a berry-print duvet and a perfectly coiffed blowout were the hallmarks of the Matilda Djerf starter pack. Kick-starting her career through fashion blogging in 2016, she quickly became the face of the ‘Scandi-girl aesthetic’. But in December 2024, cancel culture interrupted her upward trajectory—not just as a content creator but as the founder and creative director of Djerf Avenue.
As a Scandinavian expat, I witnessed Matilda Djerf shift the stereotypes of Swedes. Following her launch of Djerf Avenue and her reformation of the claw clip, I was no longer associated with IKEA. Overnight, Scandinavian became an ‘aesthetic’ beyond build-it-yourself bookcases.
Matilda left her job in 2018 to focus on content creation, helping to pave the way for Instagram’s advertising revenue, which reached $71 billion in 2024. In 2019, she transitioned from a content creator to a full-time entrepreneur, launching Djerf Avenue with her partner in life and business, Rasmus, as CEO. In an interview with Forbes magazine, she explained that they wanted to create a transparent, inclusive brand—free from model retouching—after feeling misled by previous collaborations.
When Djerf Avenue ventured, I was among millions of ‘angels’ (Matilda’s name for her fans). Unlike other celebrity brands that explode only to plummet, Djerf Avenue maintained its momentum. With an infinite stock model—keeping items available based on demand—they positioned themselves within semi-ethical consumption. A fresh play, despite telling Vogue Scandinavia it wasn’t about ‘filling a gap in the market’.
Intentional or not, Matilda bridged the gap between fast fashion and capsule wardrobes. Through an echo chamber of user-generated marketing, she formed a community. Buyers gain a parasocial relationship in exchange for recycled polyester, warranting Djerf’s three-figure price tag. A level of allegiance that sets Matilda apart from others in the industry. Marketed as sustainable fashion, an oxymoron—shoppers also buy self-fulfilment.
Djerf Avenue’s first collection (2019), ‘the Core collection,’ was inspired by Matilda’s personal style: a ‘timeless’ cropped blazer, miniskirt, and oversized tee—another oxymoron. Her sales skyrocketed in the U.S. and the U.K., surpassing Djerf’s mother country, Sweden. As the face of the ‘Scandi aesthetic’, did Djerf Avenue serve as a gateway to Swedish culture? Around the time of the brand’s launch, TikToks about wearing linen shorts and chunky sweaters for a ‘Scandinavian style’ dominated the algorithms. So did Djerf’s bedding, pyjamas, and robes making her Swedish lifestyle feel tangible.
Shoppers lacking a distinct sense of style but conscious enough to avoid micro-trends had their needs met by Djerf Avenue. It’s brilliant. And it doesn’t erase her intentions or authenticity, which were doubted as fast as her success. As a woman, Djerf couldn’t be sweet and savvy without question. But I think she’s capable of more than just charm—business.
In December 2024, a year after being featured in Forbes’ 30 Under 30 and only days after collaborating with Hailey Bieber’s brand, Rhode, the Djerf Dynasty plunged. A Swedish newspaper, Aftonbladet, reported hostile experiences shared by former and current Djerf Avenue employees. The public was shocked. Just one week earlier, hundreds of fans lined up outside Matilda’s pop-up shop in London to glimpse the charm seen on social media.
“Mathilda Djerf getting cancelled was not on my 2024 Bingo Card”, @mell.zzie on Instagram threads.
The witness statements claimed Matilda bullied employees by yelling at them and choosing favourites. She was accused of causing panic attacks and promoting fatphobia and performative diversity marketing. Shortly after, Matilda deleted her TikTok account, and a public apology was posted on Instagram.
Photo:Matilda’s public apology on Instagram/@matildadjerf on Instagram
Does it justify a witch hunt?
For these allegations to surface, something at Djerf Avenue is amiss. Matilda’s leadership is inexcusable, and I hope her employees receive the support they need. There is strength in speaking out, only to be torn down repeatedly. They are only human.
Matilda is too. I can’t put myself in her employee’s shoes. I also can’t walk a mile in a pair of influencer-turned-million-dollar entrepreneur kitten heels. Neither can the thousands posting hateful comments on her content. Broken institutions need accountability and reform. Was hate ever the answer?
Matilda is accused of not embodying a persona we created. Is it ethical to blame an influencer for lacking authenticity because they are their own business? Djerf Avenue promises inclusivity and transparency to its customers—and ‘delivers’ by selling clothes in sizes XXS to XXL, worn by models of diverse body types, backgrounds, and abilities. But does that inclusivity extend to Matilda herself (and every other disingenuous entrepreneur)? 84% of respondents in an Oxford survey admit to buying a product despite knowing its manipulative marketing. What is the difference between an influencer and a brand?
Djerf Avenue has become the target of a larger issue. A good leader knows what’s best for their team, and Matilda is not that leader. But that doesn’t equate to a bad person. She is a successful businesswoman who played the hand she was dealt, building a company based on self-promotion, unrealistic expectations, and a disconnect from authenticity in an unregulated industry. She is not the first to do this, and she won’t be the last. Why aren’t we criticising male entrepreneurs to the same extent as Matilda? If it were a man, would he be ‘canceled’ or a ‘shark’ in the workplace?
