Suzanne Lipschutz and Secondhand Rose: Vintage Wallpaper Collector Extraordinaire

Good morning!

How are you? Man, am I pumped to get out to the flea market this weekend-- I've been through a relative dry spell lately with estate sales and the like, and come Saturday, am I ready to get down and dirty with a box full of clothes someone pulled out of a barn or basement or attic in search of hidden treasures! Bring onnnn the 1940's dresses. :) As I countdown the hours until tomorrow morning, however, how about you and I both take a leisurely look at the life's work of my new favorite person, Suzanne Lipschutz? Have you heard the good word? If not, I hope you'll be glad you did by the end of this post!!

Lipschutz in her soon to be former apartment . The lamp at left  is actually taking a year off my life.

I was skimming through the (always extraordinary) New York Times Home and Life section when I was struck by the headline "A Vintage Life in the Chelsea Hotel". The Chelsea Hotel has been a subject of fascination for me since being a Factory-obsessed Warholite in high school (one of my personal style icons, Edie Sedgwick, once managed to fall asleep smoking and start a fire in her apartment that evacuated the building and gutted the unit; the Nico theme song and movie of the same title, Chelsea Girls, refers to the same), so between that and the arresting image of the woman above (who is seventy one, somehow, by the way) in her rococo apartment, I had to read on! Suzanne Lipschutz is in the process of moving from this apartment in the Chelsea as the post-Stanley Bard era of the building (see this documentary for a good background on what the hotel's history is like and the situation with the changing of the old guard), and while she's sad to pull up stakes, she's looking forward to improvements in her new apartment and a fresh canvas to decorate in her own impeccable eccentric taste. Take a look at this room and tell me it doesn't leave you just a little breathless:

Note to self: pink ceiling and chartreuse drapes, please, thanks.

How do you get a room like this? You stay at something you're already good at for OVER FIFTY YEARS. At twenty one, Lipschutz and her partner Jeff Joerger opened the first incarnation of her world-famous Secondhand Rose store, which later specialized as a rare source of period wallpaper, with, as the NYT article says, "a busted Tiffany magnolia lamp she found in a junkie’s apartment and 19th-century furniture harvested from the street". My little heart skipped a beat somewhere in between reading about celebrity clients like John Lennon and Yoko Ono, and learning that her wallpaper is in movies like The Untouchables (here's Sean Connery getting massac'red in front of it) and Silence of the Lambs. Oh, and her apartment looks like something out of an Edward Gorey fever dream I had.....?! I now have hearts for eyes and all I can see are these beautiful textures and patterns and pieces and scraps. This is the closest to actually being a Victorian crazy quilt a room can get.

Nick Sweeney did a segment on Suzanne Lipschutz for NOWNESS in 2012....and if it was an au courant moment in that year, I can't say it's any less fascinating to look at in 2015. Can you imagine Woody Allen walking into your kooky antiques store in the 1970's and ordering an apartment's worth of 1930's wallpaper? Understand Lipschutz owns this space with just hundreds upon hundreds UPON HUNDREDS of rolls of antique and vintage wallpaper-- all gleaned simply by being in the right place at the right time with that keen, keen eye for fabulousness-- wouldn't you have loved to be a pretty, smart blonde on the Left Bank in the seventies' who'd just found a cache of Wiener werkstatte style wallpaper rolls in an old vendors's dusty flea market offerings? Again, I wish I were her.

                 
How my heart just sings out for this grape wallpaper:

SL describes the wallpaper below  as being throughout Woody Allen's apartment. I tried like all hell to find a photo of his apartment before he moved in the early 2000's, but need to take a trip down to the library to dig up the Archictectural Digest he did in the seventies' and sate my curiosity. Note: the colors and geometric patterns of these florals are enough to knock you eye out. Gorgeous.

Look at her perfect gel nailpolish while describing this wallpaper embedded with actual predeceased butterflies...wwwwwoooowwww....

But the fun only starts with these little tips and tidbits from the internet. The grand motherlode comes from the Cooper-Hewitt design museum's archive. Cooper-Hewitt is pretty amazing in and of itself, housed in a Victorian mansion built by and lived in by rail magnate and historic philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, the museum just went through a several million dollar renovation to put it on the cutting age of 21st century curation (see this New Yorker article for more information). Lipschutz donated a substantial number of sample swatches from her wallpaper archive in 1991...and OH. MY. GOODNESS. Get ready to flip your honest to God wig.

What kind of wallpaper theme do you favor? How aaaaaboooout...space travel?

"Artie, get some footage of this! Seriously! You're not gonna wanna miss this!"

Planet earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do....

Sports?

Weird, abstract sports collage! I can't say I don't like it!

Yerrrrrrr OUT!

Off to the races...

How art deco! I vote all you pupsters as best in show.

Landscape (underwater and otherwise) ?

"My bones denounce the buckboard bounce/And the cactus hurts my toes..."

This one is actually my favorite out of all of them. While it would look best in a bathroom with tons of mirrors, I'd prefer to put this on every available surface in any current or future home.

GorGEOUS.

Figural?

Isn't it interesting how NARRATIVE this particular panel is? Check out the mesa in the background.

Being a teenager in 1947 was way cooler than being a teenage in 1997, let me tell YOU.

A dance under the stars (les estrellas)!

(classic cowboy instrumental here)

These just look like houses I could live in!

Yes....

Yes....

YESSSSSS.....

This last swatch interested me the most....seeing as....wait a MINUTE, I HAVE something in this pattern!

Bonjour, Paris!!!!

Nick and Nora apparently took a heavy dose of "inspiration" from this wallpaper panel and used them in their pajamas. I'm not home to take a snap of the ones in my bureau, but here's the link on ebay and some photos of the same model:

I guess that's within their legal rights, but honestly I was scandalized!!!! At least I know my "it looks retro" pattern radar was fully calibrated and ready to detect such duplications!

I have to scoot, but what do you think? Are a magpie collector, or a wallpaper enthusiast? What's the best surreally super swatch you've seen out on your travels? Have you heard of Suzanne Lipschutz? Could she BE cooler? What's your latest stylespiration? Let's discuss! Make sure you check out Secondhand Rose on Facebook, Pinterest, and the world wide web, you'll be glad you did!

Got to get back to work, but have a FABULOUS weekend, keep your fingers crossed for me at the flea, and hopefully I'll have a boatful of goodies to share with you next week! Til then. :)

Franchot Tone and Barbara Payton and Tom Neal (Hollywood Scandal, 1951)

Good morning!

How's every little thing? I was telling my friend Eartha the other day that I had two or three blog entries I'd started and not even attempted to finish due to a debilitating bout of inertia, but didn't just saying it outloud shame me into taking action on these poor, neglected posts? So, I thought I'd take a minute or two off from catching up on my Turner Classic Movies watchlist and handwringing over various housework projects that need attention (both of which can wait), and share with you a scintillatingly scandalous bit of salaciousness I was researching the other day. Or at least I found it so! I hope you do, too.

People, Barbara Payton and Franchot Tone-- Franchot Tone and Barbara Payton, my people.

Points gained for the hat, points lost for the inebriated 500 yard stare each are giving the photographer.

I was working on a little side project I've been toying with lately about vintage Hollywood scandals when a brief cotton wisp of a thought about Franchot Tone blew by while I was brainstorming incidents in the lives of ye olde classic Hollywood celebrities. Wasn't there something in his biography about a brawl over a young starlet when he was well into his middle age that put him in the hospital? Sketchy with my recollection on that (so many Hollywood Babylon type stories under the bridge), I turned to Wikipedia as an aide-memoire, which obligingly offered up the following:

In 1951, Tone's relationship with actress Barbara Payton made headlines when he suffered numerous facial injuries and fell into a coma for 18 hours following a fistfight with actor Tom Neal, a rival for Payton's attention.

Yeeeeah, that was about the long and short of it! As I tried to find Google results, I leaned on my new favorite source for contemporary accounts of historical events, which is Google Newspapers. Yea bo, can you dig up some old school dirt with the help of that search engine. But let's start at the beginning. How should you know who Franchot Tone is? Here's a little background on the fellow at the center of this 1951 media storm:

• Stanislaus Pascal Franchot Tone (you can't make this up) was born in 1905 in New York state. His father, Frank Tone, was a wealthy industrialist/inventor who headed up the Carborundum Company in Niagara Falls.
• Tone enjoyed some success on Broadway and in New York theater circles before heading west to work in the movies, first with Paramount and then MGM.
• After signing with MGM, he was slated to appear in the WWI movie Today We Live with Gary Cooper. William Faulkner (yes, that William Faulkner) was working on a screenplay adaptation of his short story, "Turnabout", for the film when Louis B. Mayer requested that they put Joan Crawford on the picture in order to use her in an already-in-progress project. Only problem? There were no female parts in the original short story. "Well, put her in as a nurse or something," LB not-so-subtly suggested, and so the men-at-war movie became a men-at-war-trying-to-get-the-same-girl movie.
• Donald Spoto (celebrity biographer and one of the very best), opens the section of the book discussing this movie in his excellent Possessed: The Life of Joan Crawford, like so:
• "Today We Live must be ranked not only as the low point in the career of Joan Crawford but also as one of those most dreadful movies ever made."
• Um, and that's, we're to assume, not only Trog and Berserk, in Joan's own filmography, but all other movies in the history of movies. Harsh but not exactly inaccurate?
• So,the movie was terrible, Joan Crawford should not be required to do an English accent for any amount of time... but in good news, Tone and Crawford hit it off at once, begin dating, and marry in 1935.

Love that face, love those accessories.

For you vintage cinephiles and fellow Hollywood gossip mongerers out there, Franchot Tone is actually at the center of Joan/Bette feud theory. If you remember your camp canon correctly, you'll know that there may have or may not have been a long going for real/not for real/possibly for publicity/but possibly not for publicity tension between two of the greatest 1930's/1940's film stars, immortalized in the first and best entry in either's mid career foray into horror, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962). Tensions during that filming ran high, but were even worse when the film was successful and a semi-sequel, Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte went into production. Joan dropped out a few weeks in due to "fatigue" and was replaced by Davis bosom buddy Olivia de Havilland, starting a media frenzy as to whether or not the two towering personalities had clashed as much on the set as they did on camera. However, according to The Divine Feud and a host of other separate biographies, the Crawford/Davis rancor actually dates back to 1935, when Bette Davis won an Academy Award, but not her co-star's off screen affections, in Dangerous. 

Better luck next time, Bette.

Joan and Franchot divorced in 1939 but remained lifelong friends...Bette never did get her chance with her co star crush. Tone continued appearing in movies through the thirties' and forties', but as the vogue for Manhattanite roués waned, so did his star power. He's best known for, other than the Crawford and Davis movies, Mutiny On The Bounty, as third billed under the theatrical powerhouse, Charles Laughton, and MGM megastar (and former Joan paramour) Clark Gable. He married a striking blonde actress named Jean Wallace in 1941, but they divorced in 1950, leaving the still-extremely-wealth Tone single and looking-- which is when he fell for the much younger Barbara Payton.

In the movies, Franchot Tone seems to inhabit the same sort of urbane, debonair, wry and slightly patrician man-about-town character from film to film-- someone who would take you to a Park Avenue party and a rally for theater workers unions on the same night in the same tuxedo, before some inelegant mix up involving a runaway heiress or an errant Broadway producer. From the Crawford biographies, you get the sense that he was much the same person in real life...which is why hearing about him being involved in some lurid love triangle that landed him in the hospital is kind of surprising! But don't take my word for it-- I've clipped some news articles from the time and present them here in semi-chronological order so you can see just how wild both the situation and the news reporting that followed got over the course of a few months in 1951.

Exhibit A: 

I love....and I mean I LOVE...how much like a present day news article on DailyMail or People magazine this sounds. Before TMZ or even Entertainment Tonight, you could flip to the celebrity section of your local newspaper (this one, for example, is a syndicated column appearing in the Sarasota Herald-Tribune) and read as much D-I-R-T dirt as you would in our modern age. Hollywood reporters kept on this story for weeks! As you can see in the article, what appears to have happened: Tone takes a swing at Tom Neal, Neal swings back but HARD, and Tone ends up in the hospital.

Barbara Payton was a new name to me-- she was model turned actress discovered in 1950 by William Cagney and chosen to appear in Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye alongside his lookalike brother, movie legend James Cagney. That role lead to other good-to-middling parts at Warner Brothers in the next year, including the love interest in the okay-ish western Only The Valiant (1951), with my boyfriend Gregory Peck:

Hi ya, Handsome!

Payton got involved with Tom Neal, an ex-boxer and B movie tough most famous for Detour (1945), around the same time as she met Franchot Tone. So what do you do, drop Mr. Great Body for Mr. Sophisticated Financial Security? Why would you, when you could just juggle either back and forth? Newspaper clipping-wise, Payton first shows up in Franchot's public life grâce à his divorce proceedings from his second wife. Please read the second column closely. Outloud, if you've got friends or coworkers around, and TELL ME the fifties' weren't about as gossip-hungry a public as we are today:

"Corky". As Gordon Ramsay would say, "Wow, wowowowowow." For Payton's part, the blonde authored an almost incomprehensible memoir in 1963, piquantly titled I Am Not Ashamed, which described the dichotomy between her two lovers like so:

It's... pretty much as badly written as that throughout, so I'll skip ahead a little and explain that it was, according to Payton, Tone's idea to get everyone together to "talk this over in a civilized fashion", which quickly devolved into boozy quarrel, with Neal questioning the age gap between Tone and Payton, and Tone referring to Neal as an "out of work body builder". Fightin' words, son. And yet, it was Tone who threw the first punch...and probably lived to regret it I would say. 

More contemporary newspaper clippings:

The end of the first column should say after a champagne reception something about them going to Duluth.
You get the idea.

I love how Tom Neal throughout is like, "Ok. So?" when asked for comment from the media. Also, as opposed to the bland "off the wire" type sound of a lot of present day celebrity gossip reports, I think it's great how first-person a lot of these accounts sound. Like there's some newspaper man in a slouch hat running down the hallway at the hospital to use the phone. "Here, just take this down as I say it,...'Dateline, Hollywood...' " You can see in the fifties' how the iron-fist control of the studios with regard to publicity begins to break down...Warners had already spent an exorbitant amount of money on building up a celebrity profile for Barbara Payton, so it really is surprising that something like this was splashed across newspapers countrywide. If this happened in the thirties', when Tone's star was on the ascendant at MGM, guaran-TEE he would have gone "out of the country" to "rest" after this while some Swiss plastic surgeon worked his miracles on the man's mangled mug. Also, can you imagine getting in a fight with your girlfriend's boyfriend that is bad enough you end up in the hospital? Maybe I naturally spurn trouble whenever possible, but I think after my nose was broken in four places by my significant other's OTHER significant other, I would be moving on to greener, calmer pastures in the romance department. But I digress.

I think a lot of alcohol was probably also factoring into this equation, because how else can you account for headlines like this?

I'm pretty sure they teach you in Northeastern blue blood charm schools that spitting in a lady's face is ne-e-e-e-ver acceptable. Did you catch that she was a witness in a murder trial as well in that second column? Again, wouldn't this make a crazy movie??

By November, things between the movie actor and the starlet had soured, and the barrage of bad press continues on into the spring of 1952, when the brief marriage began to fizzle but seriously. Read it for yourself! Sooooo much drama.

Throughout the rest of the decade, Franchot nursed his broken heart and face, working onstage and in television as he could, but never recapturing any of his clout in Hollywood. Payton and Neal continued to insist they were getting married, touring in a stage production of The Postman Always Rings Twice to capitalize on their notorious press presence, but broke up for good in 1954. Did either of them go softly into that dark night, though? An emphatic no. Once a troubled star, always a troubled star. Here's an article about Tom Neal from 1965...he was eventually convicted of manslaughter in the case of his wife's death, and served six years in prison before being released and dying of a heart attack in 1971. 

For Barbara's part, she descended into heavy alcoholism, arrested in California for passing bad checks and prostitution. She died in 1968, as, Wikipedia puts it, still holding to:

a childlike belief in her Hollywood stardom, which in her mind had never faded. She was unable to acknowledge that her once-promising career had crashed and burned, never to be resurrected.

I mean, how is this not at least an episode of Mysteries and Scandals? Right click this image for a larger version of this final clipping on Payton:

Well, I have to get going, but tell me what you think if you get a chance. Can you even BELIEVE the drama in these newspaper articles? Are you surprised at seeing early 1950's gossip described so frankly in a newspaper anyone could pick up and read? While I knew people were doing things like this in the fifties', it's pretty wild to be reading about it in contemporary accounts! Have you seen any Franchot Tone movies? Are you not shocked that he would be involved in all this? Let's discuss!!

More vintage stuff around the corner, cross my heart! I hope we get to talk again soon. Take care, til then!

Pinch Me, I'm Dreaming: Curtis Jere Thrift Store Find of the Century

Good morning!!

How's tricks? I am back and whoooo boy, the things I have seen since last we spoke. Diana Ross, for one. Joe Gillis still stuck floating in Norma Desmond's swimming pool, for another (why do I always root for him?! Why am I always disappointed!!). But most shockingly of all, a rare southern snowpacolypse. The whole country's been experiencing weirder-than-usual weather patterns lately, but tell you what, this little non-snowbird has had a DOOZY of a fortnight with regard to the wintry conditions. After week-before-last's Ice-Planet-Hoth-like mix of snow and black ice in the usually temperate corner of the South I live in, I did manage to:

1.  Eat up three consecutive days of vacation drinkin' mer-luht and suffering a semi-constant state of anxiety as to whether the weather would let up and let me go back to work, while binge reading three books cover to cover, 
2. Manage to, on the one day I did get out of the house and into the car, get stuck on a hill/ almost  spin out into another car in the space of ten minutes' time, and
3.  Stay home the following day for sheer fear of facing the ice again.

Lord, these nerves, people! I'm trying not to worry like an octogenarian over the potential icy conditions on Thursday, but until then, let's get my mind off it by talking about oh, maybe one of the best thrift store finds I've ever made.

Let me introduce you. Folks, mindboggling cheap Curtis Jere; mindbogglingly cheap Curtis Jere, my readers. I am so excited over this hunk of metal I could cry salt tears. Take a look:

I kept my ocelot print coat on so we would match. And also because I never want to take it off.

I was at a junk store with Matthew over the weekend after a long, fruitless day of flea marketing and junk store perusing. He was nice enough to come with me, trailing at a distance with his PSP as I dejectedly price guessed Hall vases ("$8. Is it $8?" ((checks bottom of vase for sticker price)) "$7.99. Am I good or am I good?" or "$20." ((checks price)) "$68?! Are they HIGH?", and so on). To have no luck at the flea market is pretty bad (I did pick up a dress and an Asian inspired fifties' charm bracelet, but nothing to write home about), but to have no luck at three subsequent non-chain thrift stores is downright depressing for this spendthrift. I'd lost my husband to a pile of snarled Game Cube controllers midway through this, our last destination, and wandered down another aisle. "Well, this is all right," I thought, picking up a pair of vividly pink elbow length gloves for $3 (Schiaparelli, anyone?) and a little black turban from defunct Nashville department store Cain Sloan for $4. I was almost at the end of the second aisle of the store, headed towards the front to take a maudlin swipe at the glass cases, when I stepped into a booth full of framed photos. Still on the hunt for something to display some thirties' sheet music, I stooped to look, but first I had to move a giant metal rectangle out of the way to see the frames underneath.

The booth minus one very important item, which I practically ran out of the store screaming with.

As I picked it up, I noticed it was H-E-A-V-Y, which, if you know your Jurassic Park quotes, usually means expensive. "Huh," I thought. "Wonder what it is." With some effort, I flipped it over and saw this abstract panel of oxidized brass and three dimensional strips of squares and circles. I still wasn't convinced, thinking maybe it was one of those Rent-a-Center/TJ Maxx style oversized art pieces. All T, no shade, you know what I'm talking about. I thought, idly, as I sometimes do when wistfully willing the next album in the Goodwill bin to be Judy Garland and not another self-produced seventies' religious recording, if it might be a C Jere...but no. Surely not. Surely I wouldn't find something I've been looking for nigh on four or five years here, in a booth next to a booth that sells nothing but diabetic socks....

However! BEHOLD:

My eyes went O_O

At this point I really think I felt my heart leap in my body and do a little somersault. Eeek! It was what I wouldn't have thought in my wildest fancy it would be. Lip bitten, I rotated the rectangle to get a better look at the price tag. Keep in mind I'd picked up a pair of Beatle boots, ankle length, deadstock, IN MY SIZE, in another booth and been outright shocked by the sixty dollar price tag. What would this be, like $300? $100? At least $50...

OR HOW ABOUT $9.99. For less than the price of a Woodlands buffet lunch, I could own an honest-to-Garshen piece of high end sixties'/seventies' kitsch. At this point, Matthew caught up to me. The following conversation ensued:

He: Whatcha got there, cutie?

Me: ((in a furtive whisper)) It'saCurtisJerethesethingsareworthlikehundredsofdollarsletsgobuy thisrightnow.

He: ((in a stage whisper)) How much does that one cost?

Me: ((through teeth)) : TEN DOLLARS. 

He: Wowwww....

I know it could have been Marlene Dietrich's earrings or an old soup can to him, but he was sweet to feign being impressed until I could later explain to him the far reaching implications of this purchase (or the short reaching ones, which are mainly that I now have a vintage wall piece that isn't super easy to find in the wild for under $100, much less under $10). For his trouble, here's a photo of him holding the Jere himself (I love that tiny face) :

On display. Like I said, this ish is heavy, too!!

Here's a picture of the piece precariously balanced on that-one-nail-I-can't-figure-out-what-to-hang-with-but-am-loathe-to-remove-from-the-wall. I have also found out that if I take a photo of a single object against that wall, it looks like the Polyore version of a clipping, haha. Did you know C Jere is not a single person (in direct contradiction of Artisan House's promotional material from the seventies', which described "his" schooling and "his aesthetic"), but the portmanteau pseudonym of artists and brothers-in-law Curtis Freiler and Jerry Fels? I didn't. Good cocktail party conversation in case anyone ever asks you (how I do wait for someone to ask me...). Also, I might leave that price tag on there forever. It's half the fun of the story!!

I was struck by what someone said in a documentary I was watching the other day about context while antiquing or junking-- the dealer in question had bought a slim, pale green lamp at an antique show for $10 "as a joke", thinking it was maybe a fake from the 90's of a better known design. The further he got from the dismal little corner of the field that the lamp had been on, however, the more life the lamp seemed to take in, until he realized it was actually a very good 1930's art deco piece, not derivative of anything, and that he'd bought it at a fraction of its actual value just on a lark. The lamp's proximity to so much "bad" stuff had made his otherwise impeccable eye for the "great" versus the "ok" fail him. Now, if you see a gorgeous rhinestone bedecked flapper masterpiece in a pile of polyester, sure you're going to know it's the best thing going on that sawhorse table. But sometimes, it's true, I buy something on an inkling of interest, get it home, and realize it's really something. This Jere is definitely a great example-- I wasn't even sure it was worth the energy of picking up when it was balanced on top of some cheap Home Accents 8 x 10 frames...but having it leaned up next to the record console every morning (pending my getting my dad to help me hang it on these thin walls with a certain degree of certainty), it's really grown on me how gorgeous it it. 

Once more, with feeling!

I haven't been able to find an exact copy of this on Ebay or Etsy, but if you've seen one there or in your grandmother's basement, you have to promise to let me know! The  more   ubiquitous Brutalist designs by C Jere go for anywhere from $400 to almost $6,000, with the figural windmills and sailboats and birds a little less expensive. My socks were knocked right off when I did my usual Google newspapers search and turned up this ad from Artisan House (which Fels and Freiler cofounded in the  early sixties') from the 70's :

$160 for the farmhouse, and $35 for the shipwreck. Do you know how much that is in 2015 money? That's $695 and $152, respectively. Holy smokes! It will never cease to amaze me how much old stuff cost before it was old.

All right, I have to get going, but what do you think? Do you love it or do you LOVE IT? Have you found anything you were cuckoo go gaga over lately out at the sales? Any amazing finds that defy the odds and spur the vintage imagination? You know I'd love to hear about it!!

I have a veritable backlog of things I need to gab at you about, and don't you know I've missed doing it! I hope I'm back soon, schedule permitting, to tell you all about what's been going on lately. Stay warm and safe in this crazy weather, and I'll see you in the funny papers. :) Take care! Til next time.

UPDATE: I found the one I have online on 1stdibs! And it has A BROTHER:

Also they're hanging it wrong if the orientation of the signature says anything about how you should hang it (I follow the same logic by judging where the front or back of the vintage hat is based on the maker's label...do you fellow vintage ladies do the same?).

This one looks like a relative from the same collection:

My reaction:................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!