Partly because I love verbiage and partly because I have more than a few Rain Man qualities, I tend to wander around New York subconsciously repeating certain words or phrases. Otherwise I'm in an iPod trance, mouthing Whitney Houston lyrics on the subway. Listen, my job involves a lot of shlepping ... one must stay entertained.
EXAMPLE: while stomping up Park Avenue past a particularly austere limestone apartment building (not to the strains of Sara Bareilles' "Love Song," which Mugatu teasingly says is my anthem) I start with, "What's that brick action on the sides called, the kind that gets smoother as you go up? Oh yeah, rustication. Rustication rustication rustication RUSTICATE MY LOVE rustication."
Then later that day whilst sifting through the sample bins: "Oooh, I love these discontinued Oscar de la Renta fabrics with the squiggly design ... what's that called again? Oh yeah, vermicelli. Like the pasta. Hey didn't some salesperson at Cowtan & Tout call it a 'go-with' when I was last there? I just love archaic terminology! Like when my dad told me something 'wasn't worth a tinker's darn' and the then he didn't even know what a tinker did! Vermicelli, vermicelli, go-with me vermicelli ..."
I really should seek professional help.
But then I saw Diogo's post on the Musée Océanographique de Monaco in all its goopy, rusticated glory and got reinspired. And the next day in a cab I passed the Versace flagship on 5th Avenue:
A former Vanderbilt mansion with Keith Haring-esque squiggles incised into limestone blocks ... two obsessions in one! Wikipedia tells me this style has its own name: vermiculate rustication, a chiseling process in which the rough is purposefully made to look rougher. Take heart, Courtney Love! Seriously, I love how modern this looks. Maybe Studio Printworks could vermicul-ize their lovely "Le Temple Des Grecs" wallpaper? Sadly both Haring and Stephen Sprouse are gone, but the world needs more cheery loop-de-loops. And more Renaissance Mannerism. And more 25-cent words!