February 14, 2020


                                    "Beach Squad" design coming soon for Spring 2020!

                We will be also be introducing our new Chatham Ivy Girl series. Stay tuned!

January 12, 2017


Max, like our old dog Misty, loved to escape from our house and take himself for a hike or visit people.  Most of the time we lived with Max our home was in Old Town, Park City which is filled with condos and homes boxed in by mountains with a lot of trails for running and mountain biking.  One summer afternoon my husband was struggling to fit a bassinet for our baby in the door and sure enough, Max ran through his legs.  I hollered, "you take the baby, I'll get Max" as I ran out the back door.  I searched for quite a while with no luck and then saw wet pawprints leading from a hot tub down the street.  A clue!

I raced after the pawprints only to see a dripping wet Golden Retriever racing down a set of stairs, and onto someone's porch.  Trapped!  Ha!  Or so I thought until I saw him disappear through the front door and into their house.  I ran down the stairs skipping every other one only to see a dripping wet dog leap onto the couch in the living room and just as I'm shouting, "No Max, No, Down! Bad Dog!", he shakes his wet fur everywhere like something out of a Disney movie.  I lunge for him, while apologizing to the homeowner up, down and sideways, and grab his collar.  I tell the homeowner I will be back to help clean up and we leave.  Just as we get to the door I lose my grip on his wet collar and off he bolts, because now it's a game.

I called for him, then chased him but he disappeared.  I even searched the hot tubs in the area to no avail.  I headed home to get the car and drove around looking for him but no sign of Max.  I called our local radio station to see if anyone had seen Max and they made an announcement.  Just as I hung up the phone, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize.  "Oh Max!", I thought.  The caller said, "Um, hey, uh, I think I got yer dog here.  Yeah, um do you like own a big kinda dog, like a yeller color.  Yer number was on his collar and uh, HEY, HEY, STOP DRINKING MY BEER, HEY, YOU GET OUT OF THERE YA STUPID DOG.  HEY!  He just drank my beer.  And yeah, yer dog is drinkin my beer so can you come n get him?"

That would not be the last beer or burger or steak that Max would steal and it wasn't the last time he ran away either.

If you have a mischievous Max you'd like to celebrate in your life, check out our Golden Retriever tees and tote bags at Chatham Ivy.

May 2, 2016


When our daughter was three years old we lived in a typical suburban home with a yard surrounded by neighbors who weren’t terribly neighborly.  They kept to themselves and we didn’t think much of it since having a toddler, a big dog and two careers was enough to keep us occupied.  After a while the surliness started to grate and we disliked the isolation of living in a subdivision so we decided to move. 

After days and days of boxes and bubble wrap and hauling and sorting and lifting and cleaning and dismantling and supervising the movers, we were finished.  It was a warm summer evening and we were dirty, hungry and totally exhausted but finally all packed for the drive to our new home.  I got into in one car with our daughter and my husband got into the other car, both loaded to the gills with odds and ends that hadn’t made it into the moving van.  Loaded, that is, except for a certain golden canine who was nowhere to be found.

We had dismantled Max’s electric fence in preparation for the move and tied him for a short time to a tree in the backyard.  He had been in the garage but kept escaping, then in the bathroom but he kept scratching on the newly repaired door, so this seemed like the most reasonable solution for two frazzled people in the midst of a move.  My husband searched around in the dark and found Max’s collar tied to the tree but no Max.  Had this been a different dog, this would have been a surprising development.  He called and called and still no Max.

Our daughter started crying in the backseat and my husband said he’d wait and find Max.  I was relieved about this and itching to get to our destination but a little worried that he wouldn’t find Max.  Just as I started to back out of the driveway, I heard a crepitant crashing of bushes, and I saw Max flying through the air as he leapt off the six foot retaining wall and landed with a thud of paws in the driveway.  The next thing I heard was a rumbling belly laugh from my husband.  I said, “great, you found Max, see you there!” and I hear, “No don’t go, you have to see this” and I say, getting impatient, “No, really I’m leaving” and I hear, “Wait!  You are not going to believe this.”  So I grudgingly get out of the car thinking to myself, “this better be good because I am really grumpy right about now” and I was not disappointed.  There, sitting in the backseat of my husband’s car, I saw Max with his chest puffed out and in his mouth an enormous steak from the neighbor’s grill that was still sizzling with steam.  When he moved to gulp it down – there was no way he was forfeiting his winnings in the Dog Lottery of a Lifetime - we both noticed that he had three small black grill marks on his snout.

And that, my friends, was our final goodbye to that neighborhood.

If you have a favorite golden dog and a love of Chatham on the Cape, you'll love Chatham Ivy's newest "Entering Chatham" tote bag featuring a cat boat, a seal and a Golden Achiever.  You can fetch it by clicking here.

I smell steak!

Entering Chatham Tote Bag

August 14, 2015


Some dogs are so crazy they provide endless material for incredible stories.  Chances are if you know us, you've heard at least one if not dozens of stories about Max, our beautiful Golden Retriever  (when our daughter was little she used to call him a Golden Achiever) .  He was so unruly he made the Lab from Marley & Me look like a service dog.  Max was a rescue dog from a Golden Retriever rescue league that we adopted when he was a year old.  He'd had a checkered past and had lived on the streets for a while but was so affectionate and adorable that I couldn't resist bringing him home.

His unconventional life was made obvious to me when I tried to leave the rescue center with him and realized he had never been in a car.  I tried coaxing him with a treat, then pulling him with a leash, then pushing him, but I couldn't get him to go into the back of the station wagon.  I finally hoisted all 90 pounds of him into our wagon but I couldn't close the gate because he kept trying to squeeze back out.  I noticed him make a move so I slammed the gate, and went to the front door only to find Max sitting in my seat.

This time I was smarter and I put up the special screen designed to keep dogs in the way back separated from the passengers.  So I hoisted Max in the back again, threw a treat in the far corner and slammed the gate.  As I drove out of the rescue center, Max crashed through the dog screen and bounded right into my lap.  I stopped the car and thought, "aha, I will outsmart him this time!"   I tied him in the back and gave him a bone to keep him busy.  For the next half hour he seemed happy and busy if a bit nervous.  What I didn't realize was that he was busy chewing through his leash.  By the time I got to our street he ended up back in my lap, proudly holding up his big slobbery bone with half of a leash dangling from his collar.  I'm fairly certain local law enforcement frown upon operating a vehicle with this kind of distraction.

What I didn't know at the time was that the trip home with Max was only the beginning.  He sure was lovable our sweet, mad Max, but of all of our dogs, I'd say he was the most trouble.  From swiping food to drinking people's beer, to eating an entire pond full of koi, to altercations with local moose and porcupines, Max did it all.  We'll tell you some more mad Max stories, so stick around.

Who, me?

Searching for porcupines in all the wrong places

Max makes a great couch

If you have a mischievous Golden Achiever you'd like to celebrate, check out our dog tees and totes at Chatham Ivy.  They make great gifts too!

August 5, 2015


No matter how many times we've chased dripping wet, sandy dogs across a field of picnic blankets or wiped miles of muddy paw prints from our hardwood floors, or rescued the last of the steak as it disappears down a certain canine's gullet, we still love our dogs.  At Chatham Ivy, we've always gravitated toward the preppy breeds - from spaniels to retrievers to setters to mountain dogs - the more obstreperous the better.  We've had a lot of love, a lot of disasters, and a lot of dog tales.  We think you'll find our dogs as fun a we do.  In the next few weeks, we'll be telling you tales of all of our dogs.  The first one is, of course, our first dog Misty:

Chatham Ivy Founder's Kim and Katie with our English Setter, Misty at the Cape

The whole family at the Cape with Misty

On Lieutenant's Island in Wellfleet with Misty

Chatham Ivy's Misty

When we were kids our parents loaded us and all of our gear into their hunter green Ford Squire station wagon with the wooden panels and we drove all the way from Main Line, Philadelphia to our summer house on Lieutenant's Island in Wellfleet on the Cape.  We waited all year for those magical summers full of swimming and sailing and catching sea creatures and going to the Wellfleet Drive In.
One special summer, we loaded a new family member into the wagon - our brand new English Setter puppy, Misty.  Misty was as beautiful and sweet as she was exasperating, mostly due to her uncanny ability to escape any situation and run for miles and miles.  She just had to run and she wasn't going to stop for anyone or anything.  We used to get phone calls from our neighbors who would say, "we saw a white streak in our back yard and we think it's your dog".  My Dad would race out the back door and start running in the direction of the phone caller, sometimes picking up helpful neighbors or their children along the way.  Then, just like the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker, the group of neighbors would run in a line through endless back yards chasing the white streak.  Inevitably someone would try to tackle Misty only to miss and have her dash off again.  My Mom would get in the car and try to head Misty off at the pass and eventually after a lot of running and phone calls and driving, someone would catch her.  There was even one time when she got loose at Valley Forge Park for several hours that my Mom finally found her at the ranger station tied up right under the sign that said in bold letters, No Dogs Off Leash.

Misty loved Lieutenant's Island because she was never tied up and could run free for the whole summer.  She knew, even after eight hours in the car, the precise moment when we would pull onto the Island.  She would start panting, whining and getting so restless we had to open the car window to let her out.  She was at her happiest racing through the marshes, endlessly chasing seagulls, chasing waves and rolling in the sand.  One time when she went for a swim and shook her wet, sandy fur all over a family eating lunch on the beach then tried stealing their sandwiches, my Mom declared, "well, I wonder whose dog that is.  I can't imagine anyone allowing such an unruly dog at the beach."  Misty embodied the freedom, spirit and beauty that we all felt every summer when we got out of school and were let loose on the Island for the summer.  Like Misty we all felt happy, independent and free every summer at the Cape.

Celebrate your freedom this summer with one of our preppy pup totes from Chatham Ivy.  When you're packing a picnic for the beach, think of Misty.  We sure will.

April 26, 2015



January 8, 2015


How does one know if his sweater is preppy or schleppy?  There are easy rules for all woolly pullovers:

1.  The sweater should generally be designed for collegiate lifestyle activity such as tennis, golf, crew, skiing, or a college tailgate party;
2.  It must be made of natural fabrics such as wool, cotton or cashmere and not the dreaded polyester or rayon blend;
3.  The shape must be tailored and traditional - crewneck, turtleneck, cardigan, shawl collar or v neck - no hoodies or baggy sweaters;
4.  Pulls should be limited to leather buttons or toggles or other understated fasteners - no shiny chunky zippers, metallic buttons, or oversized buttons;
4.  Logos must be normal sized.  No humungous polo ponies, overfed alligators or giant Le Tigre's (yes, they still make these!);
5.  Patterns should be limited to nordic, argyle, stripes or possibly critters but nothing trendy like ombre or metallics or the notorious Ralph Lauren 2014 USA Olympic Sweater.

                                                               Dale of Norway
                                                                 Polo Ralph Lauren

Polo Ralph Lauren


                                                                   Polo Ralph Lauren


                                                          Yale University Crew Team

And, of course, every urbanite needs a ring spun 100% cotton shirt with a preppy dog and car on it to wear under his sweater and for that, we'd suggest none other than Chatham Ivy.  

December 29, 2014


We at Chatham Ivy wanted to thank Meg, the author of the Sunny State of Mind blog for featuring, reviewing and styling our Wicked Sunfish t-shirt on her blog.  She posted an adorable photo of herself wearing the tee and styled it with a fun Lilly Pulitzer scarf for an added pop.  Then she paired it with the scarf and  hot pink vest and to top it all off added fabulous aqua Hunter style boots.  We want the whole outfit!.  Great job Meg!  Meg's great review of our Wicked Sunfish shirt and her feature is below.  We love collaborating with other bloggers, so thanks for reaching out to us!

 Christmas came early this year! I had 2 packages arrive in the mail from two amazing shops that I got the opportunity to work with. They were from Chatham Ivy, and The Initialed Life, my two newest shop discoveries. Let me just say- it was a preppiness overload. I styled both of the shirts, and the photos are below!
The first shirt I styled is from a relatively new company called Chatham Ivy. Like their slogan says, they are "wicked preppy!" Shop their products here.

The design of the shirt was brilliant, and the shirt itself was fitted and soft. I would definitely give it as a gift.

December 24, 2014


One of my first memories of what Christmas should be was from a Currier & Ives cookie tin at my grandparents' home in Milford, Connecticut.  I was a huge cookie fiend (nicknamed Sugar Bowl) so my parents and grandparents made sure to hide the cookies.  I had been caught on more than one occasion waking up well before dawn and going on a cookie hunt.  One morning close to Christmas I found that beautiful cookie tin - triiumph!  In the light of the waking morning, I hid under my grandmother's gleaming cherry dining room table and ate cookie after cookie while examining the snowy scenes on the tin.  It was likely one of the highlights of my childhood and etched upon my mind the beauty of a classic New England Christmas.  Here are some scenes from New England Christmases through the years just for you:

Have yourself a very merry Christmas . . . from all of us at Chatham Ivy