Everyday Essentials

Daisy by Shelby Turned a Dog's Death Into the Loudest, Most Joyful Collars You've Seen

Shelby Eastman built her retro-print dog accessory brand as a working memorial to her late Cairn Terrier, right down to the 5 percent of profits that go to rescue. The story behind it, plus how to actually pick a collar that fits.

By Sara Lim, Product Picks Editor

September 13, 2025 · 7 min read

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Most memorials are quiet. Shelby Eastman built a loud one. Her Los Angeles pet brand, Daisy by Shelby, makes collars and bandanas in psychedelic ‘70s- and ‘90s-inflected prints, the visual opposite of the beige, minimal pet gear that filled the shelves when she went looking, and the whole riot of color is a tribute to a Cairn Terrier named Daisy who died at 13. The joy is the point. So, quietly, is the giving back.

A dog she almost didn’t let herself love

Eastman was always the fashion kid. She collected magazines, made mood boards, and, by her own account, came to school “dressed to the nines” while friends teased her for it. She went on to LIM College in New York, interned at Miu Miu, then worked at an advertising startup on campaigns for Ray-Ban and Christian Louboutin, before going in-house for hotelier and Studio 54 co-founder Ian Schrager, where she launched his personal Instagram and built the social strategy for his splashy PUBLIC Hotel in NYC. In 2018 she struck out on her own as a consultant. Then the pandemic gutted her hospitality-heavy client list “left and right.”

Like a lot of New Yorkers, she fled the city and landed back at her childhood home outside Houston, where, with little work to fill the days, she reconnected with the family’s senior Cairn Terrier, Daisy, adopted as a puppy before Eastman ever left for college. Her mother watched the bond deepen and issued a warning that turned out to be the hinge of the whole story: Daisy was old, and getting this attached only to leave again would be cruel. “If you’re going to form this kind of attachment with her, you really need to commit.”

So Eastman committed. When she moved to LA, Daisy came too. “I gave her the most glamorous year of her life,” she says: day trips to Laguna Beach, cocktails at the Proper Santa Monica, a whole dog-friendly city that Daisy took to instantly.

A brand born the year Daisy died

Daisy died at 13, and Eastman launched Daisy by Shelby in her honor in the summer of 2022. By then she had a new Cairn Terrier, Ruby, and had grown frustrated shopping for her. “Everything felt so minimal and basic. I didn’t see anything that fit with my personal style,” she says. “I just wanted to create something that spoke to the cool, creative people I surround myself with who have dogs.” Tellingly, she pulled her first collection’s inspiration from adult and children’s fashion rather than the pet aisle, which is exactly why the prints read as clothing you’d actually wear rather than novelty pet stuff.

The ethics mattered to her more than the aesthetics let on. Eastman initially refused to manufacture in Asia, convinced it couldn’t be done responsibly, until a product-developer friend changed her mind. She’s glad she listened. The family-run factory they found has, she says, “immaculate” facilities, good working conditions, a living wage, and real work-life balance for its staff, and, crucially for a tiny brand, it was willing to take small orders so nothing went to waste. Most factories she approached in LA and New York demanded high minimums; this one worked with her.

The early numbers backed the instinct. At the time of her interview she’d had zero returns, and 30 percent of holiday orders came from repeat customers, despite her assuming most buyers would be one-and-done. The best seller is the checkered collar in both colorways; the faux-fur styles move well too, especially “Ginger,” which shoppers say looks like a candy swirl. Throughout it all, Ruby lounges in a sunny patch under the dining-room chair, “more high maintenance than Daisy, but obedient and affectionate, and she’s never chewed anything she shouldn’t.”

The part most brand stories leave out

Here is what makes Daisy by Shelby more than a cute label. When Daisy reached the end, Eastman had her put to sleep at home, comfortable, with Eastman and her mother beside her. The veterinarian who performed the procedure was so moved by their bond that she made a donation, in Daisy’s name, to Love Leo Rescue.

That gesture became the company’s spine. Love Leo Rescue is a tiny operation, “just two women,” Eastman says, pulling dogs off the street, crowdfunding their vet care, and fostering them out. Every month, Eastman writes them a check for five percent of Daisy by Shelby’s profits, in Daisy’s honor, and she has talked about shooting campaigns with their adoptable dogs to help them find homes. A brand founded in grief now funds other dogs’ second chances, which is about as fitting a memorial as a dog could get.

Her ambitions are unabashedly big: collaborations with brands she loves (she’s floated Simon Miller and a pet carrier with a luggage maker like Away), a wholesale push, even a shop-in-shop dream at a national retailer like Petco. But the mission underneath stays fixed.

While you’re here: how to actually pick a collar

A gorgeous print is worthless on a collar that doesn’t fit, so before you buy anything, from Daisy by Shelby or anyone else, get the fundamentals right.

Measure, don’t guess. Wrap a soft tape around the widest part of your dog’s neck and add one to two inches. Re-check often, weekly for a growing puppy, monthly for an adult, since weight changes sneak up.
Use the two-finger rule. A properly fitted collar lets you slip exactly two fingers underneath: snug enough not to slip over the head, loose enough to breathe. Any tighter chafes; any looser is an escape risk.
Go wider for bigger or pully dogs. A wider band spreads pressure across more of the neck, which is more comfortable and safer than a thin strap that digs in.
Match the type to the dog. A standard flat buckle collar suits most dogs. A martingale, with its second loop that gently tightens, is the move for narrow-headed breeds (think sighthounds) or any artist who backs out of a regular collar, but never leave a martingale on an unsupervised or tied-out dog, since it can snag and tighten. Escape-prone cats and some dogs do better with a breakaway buckle that releases under pressure if it catches on something.
Remember a collar is for ID and style, not pulling. For walks, especially with a dog who pulls, a well-fitted harness protects the neck far better than any collar. Let the collar carry the tags and the personality; let the harness carry the leash.

Fit first, flair second. Get both right and you end up where Eastman wanted her customers all along: a dog who is safe, comfortable, and, unmistakably, the coolest one at the park.