Regina Corcoran's - "Pursuing the American Dream"
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Real estate as a second language

By Regina Corcoran Special to The Citizen

Well, the holidays soon will be upon us. Those who have raised party-going to an art form know it is time to learn some new expressions to throw around.

There's no better way to be the life of the cocktail or dinner party than to toss out meaningless, strange real estate terms, right? Shall we start with a couple easy ones?

Most of us are familiar with the phrase "cul de sac." It is mildly profane in French translating to "tail of the bag." Several of them are culs de sac.

I think of those keyhole street arrangements with houses lining them. Developers use other appealing names, like cove or court. Municipalities are beginning to favor "no outlet" over "dead end."

Those who think PTW has just been done to death may want to try the next one: Wolmanized. It's a trade name for pressure-treated wood, of course. Most frame structures in our area use Wolmanized wood for the stud walls. Otherwise, the termites would begin feasting on it before the perimeter frame walls are complete.

Suppose the local code enforcement official calls owners to ask about their possible illegal property use as a short-term or transient rental. The shocked owner of the residence might respond, "That's not an illegal rental; that's my pied-à-terre!"

It sounds so much better when you say it that way, doesn't it? Surely the code enforcement official will dismiss the subject entirely.

A pied-à-terre, in French meaning literally "foot on the ground" (not to be confused with pedal to the metal), is usually a small living unit like a condo or apartment in an urban area.

More often than not, their most common use is as a secondary residence, vacation home or vacation rental. Still, it sounds so much better to call them pieds-à-terre.

Colors are such easy targets. I really should leave them to you amateur vocabularists. Vermilion, cadmium, cinnabar -- all that glorious shade of red with a little orange in it. I wonder why colors are often so toxic? Artists and painters originally used sulfur and mercury to concoct vermilion. Can't eat it? Let's paint the walls with it!

One of my favorite terms is "clerestory windows," pronounced "clear story."

My cousin's kid, Mike, calls eggs with hollandaise sauce "eggs on eggs." Naturally, this is due to the fact that hollandaise sauce is comprised mainly of, well, eggs.

Well, clerestory windows must be "windows on windows." We know where windows belong -- in rows piercing the walls so we can look out and let light in.

Clerestory windows are on top of those. Imagine a ski lodge and the large panes of glass out of which we view the snowy mountains. Above those are more windows that are stationary. The tops of them follow the roof line up to the peak.

That type of fenestration (ahem!) appeals to us in the Keys, too. For an example in residential use, check out our multiple listing service at http://keywestmls.rapmls.com and search for the home listed at 833 Second Lane in Key Largo.

Do you suppose the Historic Architecture Review Committee will accept a wicket gate in a picket fence? Then you could have a wicket in a picket.

Truly, though, per R.S. Means, a wicket is "a small door or gate, especially one that is mounted as part of a larger one."

Transport yourself back to the Middle Ages. Imagine a gate large enough to accommodate a horse drawn carriage. Now envision a smaller gate for humans inset into it.

On the other hand, you could also drive by Casa Caselles at 1616 Atlantic Blvd. here in Key West. They have a sort of a wicket gate --a pedestrian gate that is part of a vehicle gate.

What do you think?

Regina E. Corcoran, SRA, is a Florida real estate broker, state-certified residential appraiser and residential contractor. She is president of AmeriRealty Corp. and vice president of AmeriMortgage Corp. She can be reached at ReginaECorcoran@cs.com. Corcoran writes her column exclusively for The Citizen. It appears every other Sunday.