"Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark." That's how Christian Bale, portraying the investment banker-turned-serial killer Patrick Bateman describes with envy overload a colleague's custom business card in the 2000 film "American Psycho." Bateman's own billfold stuffer proved comparatively inadequate—merely "bone" in hue with a "Silian Rail" lettering.)

The scene exemplified how that era's business cards had become ostentatious, status-badge accessories, instead of their original use: to get one's name and contact information into the right hands.

Today, personalized business cards are enjoying something of a revival as reactions to, and against, our own recently concluded Gilded Age. The updated versions, increasingly referred to by stationers as calling cards, differ from conventional business cards in that they provide as little information as possible: a name and a single contact number is common. Examine one closely and you might be able to glean the bearer's profession, but any hint of corporate conformity has been stamped out.

From the stationery ateliers of San Francisco to bespoke boutiques in Manhattan's Greenwich Village, orders are reportedly pouring in. And with modern versions of the card, the only rule is that there aren't any—except that they should be emblems of your persona; therefore, size matters, and font choice can be as revealing as a Rorschach blot.

The fresh demand for calling cards is driven by a number of factors. In the post-recession economy, job-hunters are finding the calling card a handy way to differentiate themselves from the masses. Another factor is the ongoing "heritage" movement—a nostalgia-tinged societal turn toward objects that last, smolder with individuality and are well-made—which has made its zeitgeisty way into the world of stationery.