Recently Maryellen Stewart, a freelance copywriter for luxury brands, was window-shopping in SoHo when she noticed a large sign in a restaurant window advertising a “curated” menu.

“I hate the word,” she said. “It’s everywhere.”

In Midtown, the designer Christian Siriano has opened the Curated NYC, a boutique selling women’s wear and decorative objects. Michigan residents can buy their wedding dresses at the Curated Bride. Fashion fans keen to slim-line their wardrobe can consult “The Curated Closet: A Simple System for Discovering Your Personal Style and Building Your Dream Wardrobe” by Anuschka Rees. Those looking to move can find an apartment through Elika, a real estate company offering “curated New York properties.”

Fly to London, and at Heathrow Airport you’ll be met with the Curator, a new bar and restaurant. The Evening Standard Magazine recently referred to “your page curators” when explaining the masterminds behind a list of “in-car travel companions,” including a Diptyque diffuser that costs 75 pounds (about $95).

“It’s mainstream jargon now,” Ms. Stewart said. “It’s used because it sounds fashionable. It sounds like it’s for … the aesthetically conscious.” As zeitgeisty as other oddly specific and much hashtagged words like “wanderlust” or “journey” or “empower,” “curate” is spreading. The word’s overuse has left it almost devoid of meaning, and curators themselves — the traditional, museum-dwelling kind — are up in arms.