BEEN AROUND THE WORLD & I YA YA
2025-08-23 09:00 - 2025-08-24 15:00 (America/Chicago) | Been Around The World, 1542 W Wellington, Chicago, IL, 60657, United States
Amsterdam, France, To Chicago! The Estate of World Traveler & Garden Design Provocateur Marguerite Gluck!

This is the estate of premiere luxury landscape gardener MARGUERITE GLUCK aka The Fairy Garden Mother!
1542 W. Wellington Ave 8/23/24th 9-3pm
Marguerite Gluck, one of Chicagolands oldest and most loved landscape, gardening artist. Her lovely shop in Andersonville was an institution. Her estate opens to the public August 23/24th from 9-3pm. (1542 W Wellington Ave) Marguerite had an impeccable eye! She traveled the world sourcing antiques, garden décor and interesting oddities from Amsterdam, Paris--the world!
Because Estate Sale Goddess believes EVERYONE has a story, we were lucky enough to venture down the rabbit hole and discover Marguerite's BFF. One of our goals is to always help YOU understand who the client was, from a human perspective. Please grab a tissue and a cup of tea.

"My Fairy Garden Mother"
A LOVE LETTER!

Marguerite made beauty for a living. She sowed joy in abundance. Not a single root or shoot was tucked in the earth or tied to a trellis without the ringing sound of her laughter.
*We feel her wonderful vibe in her home. Her selection of antiques, the carefully ironed and starched linens. Her space where she designed and created her works...
If I tried to describe her, I’d begin with her face. Her face was alive, was radiant, was always revved up in joy. Or deep concentration. Her laugh came easy, so easy. Her limbs flowed. She was a ballerina in the everyday. Clogs buried in garden, wielding a shovel or pruners, she swayed with the wind, with the whims, with purpose.
She planted my secret garden, the one that meanders along the side of my house, from my writing room window, past the kitchen door, and into the garden out back. It’s the place I’d point to if pressed to answer the question: Where did you finally find your long-sought peace? It was there in the garden that Marguerite grew.
I first met Marguerite a garden ago, back in 1991, months after we married, my beloved and I. The very day we wandered into the old Victorian that became our house for a decade, the house to which both our boys first came home, the house that held so many joys and so many sorrows, Marguerite was there. She was packing up boxes with Jim the sculptor who was dying of AIDS, and who would soon leave us his beautifully sculpted three-story house (and a set of Old Willow dishes besides). They wept and wailed and laughed together. We heard the echo of their affections before we saw them, and when we climbed the stairs there she was: radiant, a mop of blond curls, eyes hazel and sparkling.
She knelt beside me summer after summer, teaching me much of what I know about what grows in a garden. We wandered nurseries and tree lots. We planted according to her unorthodox teachings. When anything ailed, she knew the fix. Or we yanked it and started again.
My jewel box of a tiny urban garden, one where the alley rats dared not roam for the fierce farm cat who patrolled it, grew to be a wonder. One whose measure in my mind far exceeded a yardstick.
When at last we decided we’d finished our work, at least for the time being, Marguerite and Ted, her rabbi of a husband who presided over a congregation of his psychotherapy clients, came by one late summer’s evening to bless the little plot. In a story I love so much I included it on pages 37 and 38 of The Book of Nature**, Ted offered up fertility prayers for my garden, that it would blossom and bloom, and multiply. Four months later, on the brink of my 44th birthday, after eight years of broken hearts and infertility, I discovered that I was the one blossoming and multiplying. I was “with child,” as the Bible would put it. I always giggled that Ted had mixed up his fertility prayers, and pulled out the ones for the barren woman instead of the ones for the garden.
And so, of course, and ever since, Marguerite is the one to whom I turned with every garden question, and every delight as it bloomed. When Ted died not quite two years ago, I knew Marguerite’s heart was shattered. And there was no glue in the world to put it back together.
Marguerite died on a Monday, and was buried on Tuesday. And ever since I’ve been strolling through my garden, stopping to marvel here, stooping to deadhead there. I’ve been schlepping my hose, and giving big drinks to each and every bloom bequeathed to me by my Marguerite.
Marguerite will always bloom in my garden. Her longtime sidekick, David the cop, is coming soon to help me dream once again. There is a plot under the ornamental lilac and the row of burning bush, and I have named it Marguerite’s Garden, and I will be planting it before the month of her death turns to August.
And it will be abundant in beauty. Because that’s what Marguerite taught me to grow. And that will never die.

Marguerite’s genius in the garden spread far beyond our little block. When she couldn’t be contained, she launched a for-hire garden crew (a motley crew counting two cops, a U of C theology grad fluent in Mandarin Chinese, a commodities trader, a banker, and a pet photographer) with a seasons-long waiting list. She planted tulips by the thousands up and down Boule Mich, Chicago’s grand Magnificent Mile. She planted the city’s lushest rooftops and balcony gardens. She was a connoisseur of miniatures, and knew how to cram the most in the least. She opened a dream of a flower shop in Andersonville, aptly named Marguerite Gardens, and twice daily received imports from her beloved Netherlands. The shop, with the bell that tinkled as you walked in, held a European-style flower market, and was stuffed to the rafters with eighteenth-century antiques, from bird cages to terraria. Aptly, she was named for the daisy whose name means “pearl” in French, and is the bloom from which petals are plucked in the prognostication game, “he loves me, he loves me not.” Married for 43 years to the inimitable, unorthodox, Adler School & Yale-educated rabbi and psychotherapist, Theodore Gluck.
. . .That garden—where a priest, a rabbi, and a tight circle of people we love gathered for blessings shortly after the births of each of our boys; where baby bunnies and nestlings and goldfish were buried after premature deaths; where our stubbornly resistant house cat mastered the art of escape—that plat of earth became as sacred to me as any cloister garth.
Not only was it where I knelt to teach my firstborn the magic of tucking a spit-out watermelon seed into the loam and, each morning after, tracking its implausible surge. During seven long years of miscarriage after miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy and emergency surgery, and doctors finally telling us to give up hope, I dug and I dug in that garden, all but willing the tiniest bulbs and tenderest sprouts to beat impossible odds, refusing to let anything else die on my watch. And then, at the end of one summer, as the crab apples were starting to turn, a rabbi who lived down the block came by with his wife, whom I’d long called my fairy Garden Mother for her magical ways and her unbroken guidance. Standing under the stars, the rabbi, his wife, and I, we blessed the garden itself, casting prayers and sprinklings of water. By that Christmas, I was pregnant, with nary a drop of medical intervention. Just shy of forty-five when that blessing of a baby arrived the next August, I’ve always wondered if maybe the rabbi mixed up the garden fertility prayers.

Marguerite Gluck & Theodore Gluck Wedding
*Yes my Loves. We are all connected. Come out and feel the beautiful bountiful loving vibe that is Marguerite. This was beautifully written by her Bestie Barbara Mahany.
ALL LOVE, Til Soon!
YOUR Estate Sale Goddess

VINTAGE Shopkeepers, Farmhouse, PRIMITIVES & Lovers of Shabby Chic! Artist, Scrapbookers, Wedding Planners, Country Living Lovers, Landscape Artist, Event Planners, Interior Designers, Hipsters, Grand Millennials, Metal Workers, Crafters & Small Business Owners!
This $1M charming estate is nestled in quaint yet lively Lakeview! If you LOVE French antiques, European designer clothing, Irish lace, Victorian linens, art, posters, birdhouses, wrought iron, diorama's, oddities and yard sculptures-COME! Lets discuss the clothing selection. Yes ESG loves a good vintage closet but it can get boring if we're seeing the same goods. Am I right? Don't get us wrong, we LOVE CHANEL! HERMES! Some Gucci, so its refreshing to see a mix of designers not readily available in the states. So check out these video compilations of the "downstairs" closet and get a feel. *Upstairs clothes closet AND shoe closet if time permits.
Oh, last thing for now--there's a hidden antique shop in the garage! There's photos here and on our Estate Sale Goddess IG. FOLLOW US for more in-depth reporting. Expect: Yard pretties, antiques, furniture, metal, lighting... Its some goodies in there. Like a European shopping getaway! REMEMBER to enter through garage.

Stay close. Updated nightly!

Play Video

Vintage Designer Fashions I

Play Video

Vintage Designer Fashions II

Play Video

Vintage Designer Fashions III

Play Video

ESG Vinyl Picks!

Play Video

Vintage Dutch Liquor Cabinet

If this is your 1st Estate Sale Goddess estate sale REMEMBER!

No advance prices. Please do not ask.
Do not email, text, ring, or slide into our DMs for prices.
No RSVP necessary.
No tickets.
No sign-up sheet.
Complimentary entry.
First come, first served.
Address released HERE 24 hours before the sale.
NO CHILDREN PLEASE.
Line up behind the blue line.
Enter through garage.
Bring help to carry purchases.
ALL cards accepted. NO CASH PLEASE.
Help us stay green? Bring your own bags/packaging.
Respect the neighbors and community.
COME! SHOP! LAUGH! ENJOY EACH OTHER!

What to expect

Hand Knotted Rugs
Victorian Clothing
Giorgio Armani
Ann Everett
Yves St Laurent
Pauw
Vinyl
Flatwear
Cookware
Ann DeMeulemeester
Burberry
Patagonia
Black Coral Seafans
Cockles
Gulf Seashells
Letterpress Drawers
Dental Cabinet
French Chandeliers
Table Lamps
Corner French Pine Cabs
Terraria
Laurastar Steamer
Herman Miller
Aeron Chair
Disco Ball
Suiseki Stone
Sterling
Georg Jensen
Tiffany
Farmhouse
Records
CD's
Sono
Yard Antiques
Barware
Antique Cabinets

Jewelry
European Designer Clothing
European Leather Boots
Bedding
Linens
Art Books
Books
Jil Sanders
Japardine
Amadeus
Cashmere
Cowboy Boots
Vintage Keys
Vintage Hotel Keychains
Cookbooks
Bisque doll heads
Stamps
Vinyl
French Pine Cabinets
Antique Oak Dininig Tables
French Bicycles
Baskets
Linenes
Hand Crochet Lace
French Pillowcases
French Sheets
French Tablecloths
Mexican Pottery
Sterling Jewelry
French Tile Stove
Folk Art
Victorian Chest
Dutch
Tools
Rugs
Tiffany

Dries Van Noten
Pottery
Crystal
Art Glass
Chandeliers
Lighting
Sterling
Cookbooks
Art
Bee Houses
Bird Houses
Oak Furniture
Victorian Furniture
Primitives
Fiori Bianco
Tins
Blue & White
Summer Hats
Winter Hats
Apothecary Chests
Art Deco Medicine Cabinet
Victorian Dresses
Victorian Blouses
Mission Furniture
Jorg & Olif Bicycle
Artist Easel
Church Pulpit
French Walnut Table
Mexican Telavera
Childrens Vintage Clothing
Childrens Vintage Toys
European Shoes
Hats
Sterling
Georg Jensen
