Articoli di riviste sul tema "Systematic Paris-Region"

Numerical modeling has become an indispensable part of geothermal resource management, especially when long-term production is involved, offering the ability to forecast the reservoir behavior under various exploitation scenarios. This paper illustrates the simulation results of the “Dogger” reservoir in Val de Marne region (south of Paris), where 16 doublets (production-injection wells) are still in operation today. The “Dogger” low enthalpy geothermal reservoir in Paris Basin is being under intensive and systematic exploitation since the early 1980’s. Almost 40 years after the initiation of the heat mining project, the longevity of the reservoir and applications have become critical issues for achieving the exploitation system’s sustainability. The simulation covers a period of 52 years (1984-2035), attempting to recreate the exploitation history and to provide an early estimation of the time-space variation of pressure and temperature inside the reservoir under future production/injection schemes and schedules. For the majority of the wells, the calculated production temperatures match quite well the field data up to the year 2011. The prediction models indicate that certain modifications in the development scheme could result in the stabilization of the fluids temperature, or at least in slower depletion rates.

Abstract. High uncertainties affect black carbon (BC) emissions and, despite its important impact on air pollution and climate, very few BC emissions evaluations are found in the literature. This paper presents a novel approach, based on airborne measurements across the Paris plume, developed in order to evaluate BC and NOx emissions at the scale of a whole agglomeration. The methodology consists in integrating, for each transect, across the plume observed and simulated concentrations above background. This allows minimizing several error sources in the model (e.g. representativeness, chemistry, plume lateral dispersion). The procedure is applied with the CHIMERE chemistry-transport model to three inventories – the EMEP inventory, and the so-called TNO and TNO-MP inventories – over the month of July 2009. Various systematic uncertainty sources both in the model (e.g. boundary layer height, vertical mixing, deposition) and in observations (e.g. BC nature) are discussed and quantified, notably though sensitivity tests. A statistically significant (but moderate) overestimation is obtained on the TNO BC emissions and on EMEP and TNO-MP NOx emissions, as well as on the BC/NOx emission ratio in TNO-MP. The benefit of the airborne approach is discussed through a comparison with the BC/NOx ratio at a ground site in Paris, which additionally suggests potential error compensations in the BC emissions spatial distribution over the agglomeration.

Abstract. High uncertainties affect black carbon (BC) emissions, and, despite its important impact on air pollution and climate, very few BC emissions evaluations are found in the literature. This paper presents a novel approach, based on airborne measurements across the Paris, France, plume, developed in order to evaluate BC and NOx emissions at the scale of a whole agglomeration. The methodology consists in integrating, for each transect, across the plume observed and simulated concentrations above background. This allows for several error sources (e.g., representativeness, chemistry, plume lateral dispersion) to be minimized in the model used. The procedure is applied with the CHIMERE chemistry-transport model to three inventories – the EMEP inventory and the so-called TNO and TNO-MP inventories – over the month of July 2009. Various systematic uncertainty sources both in the model (e.g., boundary layer height, vertical mixing, deposition) and in observations (e.g., BC nature) are discussed and quantified, notably through sensitivity tests. Large uncertainty values are determined in our results, which limits the usefulness of the method to rather strongly erroneous emission inventories. A statistically significant (but moderate) overestimation is obtained for the TNO BC emissions and the EMEP and TNO-MP NOx emissions, as well as for the BC / NOx emission ratio in TNO-MP. The benefit of the airborne approach is discussed through a comparison with the BC / NOx ratio at a ground site in Paris, which additionally suggests a spatially heterogeneous error in BC emissions over the agglomeration.

Abstract. A severe reduction of greenhouse gas emissions is necessary to reach the objectives of the Paris Agreement. The implementation and continuous evaluation of mitigation measures requires regular independent information on emissions of the two main anthropogenic greenhouse gases, carbon dioxide (CO2) and methane (CH4). Our aim is to employ an observation-based method to determine regional-scale greenhouse gas emission estimates with high accuracy. We use aircraft- and ground-based in situ observations of CH4, CO2, carbon monoxide (CO), and wind speed from two research flights over the Upper Silesian Coal Basin (USCB), Poland, in summer 2018. The flights were performed as a part of the Carbon Dioxide and Methane (CoMet) mission above this European CH4 emission hot-spot region. A kriging algorithm interpolates the observed concentrations between the downwind transects of the trace gas plume, and then the mass flux through this plane is calculated. Finally, statistic and systematic uncertainties are calculated from measurement uncertainties and through several sensitivity tests, respectively. For the two selected flights, the in-situ-derived annual CH4 emission estimates are 13.8±4.3 and 15.1±4.0 kg s−1, which are well within the range of emission inventories. The regional emission estimates of CO2, which were determined to be 1.21±0.75 and 1.12±0.38 t s−1, are in the lower range of emission inventories. CO mass balance emissions of 10.1±3.6 and 10.7±4.4 kg s−1 for the USCB are slightly higher than the emission inventory values. The CH4 emission estimate has a relative error of 26 %–31 %, the CO2 estimate of 37 %–62 %, and the CO estimate of 36 %–41 %. These errors mainly result from the uncertainty of atmospheric background mole fractions and the changing planetary boundary layer height during the morning flight. In the case of CO2, biospheric fluxes also add to the uncertainty and hamper the assessment of emission inventories. These emission estimates characterize the USCB and help to verify emission inventories and develop climate mitigation strategies.

The new species, Hoya phuwuaensis is described and illustrated. It was discovered in Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary, Bueng Kan Province, northeastern Thailand. Hoya phuwuaensis is similar to the widespread and common species H. caudata. Both species have prominent mottling of silver spots on the adaxial leaf surface and positively geotropic inflorescences with slender peduncles. However, the new species can be distinguished from H. caudata by its elliptic leaf with cuneate base, obovate-oblong corona lobe and triangular anther appendages.Brown, R. (1810) Prodromus Florae Novae Hollandiae et Insulae Van-Diemen, etc. Leornard Schrag, Nuremberg.Decaisne, J. (1844) Asclepiadaceae. In: Candolle, A.P. de (Ed.) Prodromus Systematis Naturalis Regni Vegetabilis 8. Fortin, Masson & Sociorum, Paris, pp. 490–665.Hooker, J.D. (1883) The Flora of British India 4. Reeve & Co., London, 780 pp.Kerr, A.F.G. (1940) Hoya flagellata Kerr. Hooker’s Icones Plantarum 35: t. 3407.IUCN Standards and Petitions Subcommittee (2016) Guidelines for using the IUCN Red List categories and criteria. Version 12. Prepared by the Standards and Petitions Subcommittee. Available from: http://www.iucnredlist.org/documents/RedListGuidelines.pdf (accessed 13 September 2016)Kerr, A.F.G. (1951) Hoya R.Br. In: Pendleton, R.L. (Ed.) Florae Siamensis Enumeratio 3 (1). Siam Society, Bangkok, pp. 35–42. Kidyoo, M. (2013) Hoya soidaoensis kidyoo, a new species of Hoya (Asclepiadaceae) from Eastern Thailand. Phytotaxa 105 (2): 45–50. http://dx.doi.org/10.11646/phytotaxa.105.2.3Kidyoo, M. (2015) Hoya rostellata (Apocynaceae: Asclepiadoideae), a new species from Thailand. Taiwania 60 (1): 39–42.Li, P.T, Gilbert, M.G. & Stevens, W.D. (1995) Asclepiadaceae. In: Wu, Z.Y. & Raven, P.H. (Eds.) Flora of China. 16. Science Press, Beijing & Missouri Botanical Garden, St. Louis, pp.189–270.Ridley, H.N. (1923) Hoya Br. In: Ridley, H.N. (Ed.) The Flora of the Malay Peninsula 2. Reeve & Co., London, pp. 393–402.Rintz, R.E. (1978) The Peninsular Malaysian species of Hoya (Asclepiadaceae). Malaysian Nature Journal 30: 467–522.Rodda, M. & Simonsson Juhonewe, N. (2011) Hoya mappigera (Apocynaceae, Asclepiadoideae), a new campanulate flowered species from Peninsular Malaysia and southern Thailand. Feddes Repertorium 122: 1–7. http://dx.doi.org/10.1002/fedr.201100019Rodda, M. & Ang, W.F. (2012) Hoya caudata Hook.f. (Apocynaceae), A new record for Singapore, and keys to the Hoya species of Singapore. Nature in Singapore 5: 123–128.Schlechter R. (1916) Neue Asclepiadaceen von Sumatra und Celebes. Beihefte zum Botanischen Centralblatt 34: 1–18.Thaithong, O. (1995) The genus Hoya in Thailand. In: Kiew, R. (Ed.) The Taxonomy and Phytochemistry of the Asclepiadaceae in Tropical Asia. University Pertanian, Malaysia, pp. 83–94.Wanntorp, L., Kocyan, A., van Donkelaar, R. & Renner, S.S. (2006) Towards a monophyletic Hoya (Marsdenieae, Apocynaceae): Inferences from the chloroplast trnL region and the rbcL-atpB spacer. Systematic Botany 31: 586–596. http://dx.doi.org/10.1600/036364406778388593

A revision of the Australasian (Australian and New Zealand) species of Dicranoloma (Renauld) Renauld is presented. Fifteen species are accepted: Dicranoloma austroscoparium (Müll.Hal. ex Broth.) Watts & Whitel., D. billarderi (Brid. ex anon.) Paris, D. braunii (Müll.Hal. ex Bosch & Sande Lac.) Paris, D. daymannianum E.B. Bartram, D. diaphanoneuron (Hampe & Müll.Hal.) Paris, D. dicarpum (Nees) Paris, D. eucamptodontoides (Broth. & Geh.) Paris, D. fasciatum (Hedw.) Paris, D. leichhardtii (Hampe) Watts & Whitel., D. menziesii (Taylor) Renauld, D. obesifolium (R.Br.bis) Broth., D. platycaulon Dixon, D. plurisetum Dixon, D. robustum (Hook.f. & Wilson) Paris and D. trichopodum (Mitt.) Broth. Fifteen new synonymies were made. New lectotypifications have been made where necessary. Thirteen species occur in Australia and 10 in New Zealand. D. austroscoparium, D.�diaphanoneuron and D. leichhardtii are endemic to Australia, while D. plurisetum and D. obesifolium are endemic to New Zealand. Moreover, D. platycaulon, D. fasciatum and D. trichopodum are endemic to the region. D. daymannianum and D. fasciatum are newly reported from Australia. All recognised species are described and illustrated and distribution maps and a key to the species have been provided.

AbstractThe recent emergence and spread of X-linked segregation distorters—called “Paris” system—in the worldwide species Drosophila simulans has elicited the selection of drive-resistant Y chromosomes. Here, we investigate the evolutionary history of 386 Y chromosomes originating from 29 population samples collected over a period of 20 years, showing a wide continuum of phenotypes when tested against the Paris distorters, from high sensitivity to complete resistance (males sire ∼95% to ∼40% female progeny). Analyzing around 13 kb of Y-linked gene sequences in a representative subset of nine Y chromosomes, we identified only three polymorphic sites resulting in three haplotypes. Remarkably, one of the haplotypes is associated with resistance. This haplotype is fixed in all samples from Sub-Saharan Africa, the region of origin of the drivers. Exceptionally, with the spread of the drivers in Egypt and Morocco, we were able to record the replacement of the sensitive lineage by the resistant haplotype in real time, within only a few years. In addition, we performed in situ hybridization, using satellite DNA probes, on a subset of 21 Y chromosomes from six locations. In contrast to the low molecular polymorphism, this revealed extensive structural variation suggestive of rapid evolution, either neutral or adaptive. Moreover, our results show that intragenomic conflicts can drive astonishingly rapid replacement of Y chromosomes and suggest that the emergence of Paris segregation distorters in East Africa occurred less than half a century ago.

With this contribution we designate a lectotype for the name Commelina vilavelhensis, and present evidence for the synonymisation of this name under C. obliqua. We also designate here lectotypes for the names C. robusta and C. scabrata, other synonyms of C. obliqua, and discuss the taxonomic and nomenclatural situation of the name Heterocarpus obliquus. Furthermore, we present evidence that the lectotype of C. obliqua originated from plants cultivated in Paris, France and not in Uppsala, Sweden as currently accepted. We also provide here the first identification key to the eight species of Commelina that occur in the South region of Brazil.

The Pacific collections by the MUSORSTOM campaigns of the Paris Museum over the last twenty years include a total of four species of Tanaidacea from shallow waters of the New Caledonia region and all new to science. These species are described herein, one in the family Tanaidae, Zeuxo (Parazeuxo) cloacarattus, and three in the family Leptocheliidae, viz. Pseudoleptochelia bulbus, the second Pacific species recorded for this genus, a species of the Leptochelia minuta agg. represented only by males, and a species with unusual cheliped carpus morphology which is placed in a new genus as Konarus cheiris.

AbstractWe show that Lasioglossum mediterraneum (Blüthgen) (Hymenoptera, Halictidae) is a species distinct from L. laticeps (Schenck) based upon electrophoretic analysis of 39 allozyme loci for sympatric populations collected from the Dordogne region of France. The genetic identity between the two is below average for sibling species of insects: no fewer than 10 fixed allelic differences were found. In contrast, allopatric L. laticeps populations (from the Dordogne and Paris) are genetically almost identical (I = 0.998). Heterozygosity estimates for both species are low, as is often the case with Hymenoptera. Diagnostic characteristics that can be used to separate the two species are described. A phylogeny for nine species of the subgenus Evylaeus is constructed from allozyme data.

Abstract. To achieve the Paris Agreement requires aggressive mitigation strategies alongside negative emission technologies. Recent studies suggest that increasing tree cover can make a substantial contribution to negative emissions, with the tropics being the most suitable region from a biogeophysical perspective. Yet these studies typically do not account for subsequent carbon cycle and climate responses to large-scale land-use change. Here we quantify the maximum potential temperature and CO2 benefits from pantropical forest restoration, including the Earth system response, using a fully coupled, emission-driven Earth system model (HadGEM2-ES). We perform an idealised experiment where all land use in the tropics is stopped and vegetation is allowed to recover, on top of an aggressive mitigation scenario (RCP2.6). We find that tropical restoration of 1529 Mha increases carbon stored in live biomass by 130 Pg C by 2100 CE. Whilst avoiding deforestation and tropical restoration in the tropics removes 42 Pg C compared to RCP2.6, the subsequent reduction in extratropical and ocean carbon uptake means that carbon in the atmosphere only reduces by 18 Pg C by 2100. The resulting small CO2 (9 ppm) benefit does not translate to a detectable reduction in global surface air temperature compared to the control experiment. The greatest carbon benefit is achieved 30–50 years after restoration before the Earth system response adjusts to the new land-use regime and declining fossil fuel use. Comparing our results with previous modelling studies, we identify two model-independent key points: (i) in a world where emission reductions follow the Paris Agreement, restoration is best deployed immediately, and (ii) the global carbon cycle response to reduced emissions limits the efficacy of negative emissions technologies by more than half. We conclude that forest restoration can reduce peak CO2 mid-century, but it can only modestly contribute to negative emissions.

The majoid spider crab, Hyastenus verreauxii A. Milne-Edwards, 1872 (family Epialtidae), was described based on the material from “Nouvelle-Hollande” (= Australia) in the “Collection du Muséum”, that is, the Muséum national d’Histoire naturelle, Paris (MNHN). It was noted by A. Milne-Edwards (1872: 250) that the species is morphologically similar to H. diacanthus (De Haan, 1839) but differs in having a less developed hepatic region, as well as longer and straighter pseudorostral spines. Miers (1879: 26) synonymised H. verreauxii under H. diacanthus with no detailed explanation, and Miers (1886: 56) noted that this species “is probably a variety of Hyastenus diacanthus”. Haswell (1880: 442; 1882: 20) identified Australian specimens as H. diacanthus and listed H. verreauxii as its junior synonym. Ortmann (1893: 55) followed the consensus but regarded H. verreauxii as a subspecific taxon (“var.”) of H. diacanthus. Serène & Lohavanijaya (1973: 53) treated H. verreauxii as a synonym of H. diacanthus. However, none of these authors provided a detailed explanation for the decision to synonymise this species nor was the type examined. This species has not been treated by subsequent workers.

The Formidable Pygmy Grasshopper, Notocerus formidabilis Günther, 1974 (Tetrigidae: ‘Malagasy Metrodorinae’), is certainly a stunning, extraordinary insect. Despite the fact that the species was described almost 50 years ago, its beauty had remained completely hidden until recently. The bright yellow colouration of the minute warts on its dorsal hump and even brighter purple-yellowish colouration of its abdomen have been, tragically, completely lost in museum specimens. Luckily, photographs of three live females taken in 2007, 2009 and 2015 were recently uploaded to the iNaturalist platform by the first author of this paper, where they were identified as N. formidabilis by the middle and last authors. Along with a male and a female discovered in the MNHN collections (Paris) and the holotype female, these are the only records of the species. All six records are presented and depicted in the present study, and the variation of the species is discussed for the first time. This rare species seems to be endemic to NE Madagascar, a region of truly wonderful diversity.

As noted in a previous paper (Deharveng & Hamra-Kroua 2004), Friesea are well diversified in Eastern Algeria. This fauna includes species from two different taxonomic groups.First, a complex of forms closely related to Friesea afurcata Denis, 1926 includes Friesea ladeiroi Gama, 1959 and Friesea laouina Deharveng & Hamra-Kroua, 2004 in the studied region. They exhibit various degrees of intra-population eye reduction (from 8+8 to absence of eyes) of unknown taxonomic meaning that are currently under scrutiny (Jordana & Deharveng, unpublished observations).Second, the mirabilis group sensu Deharveng & Bedos (1991), distributed worldwide, includes a large number of described and undescribed forms of disputable status, due to the high level of polymorphism which affects most of the taxonomic characters: chaetal arrangement, tenent hair capitation, chaeta morphology, mucro (when reduced), eye number (when reduced). We described here a new species of this group from Algeria. Abbreviations. Abd––abdominal segment, Ant––antennal segment, Th––thoracic segment, Tita––tibiotarsus. Material deposit. LBEA––Laboratoire de Biosystématique et Ecologie des Arthropodes, Faculté des Sciences de la Nature et de la Vie, Université Mentouri, Constantine (Algérie); MNHN––Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle de Paris (France); MZNA––Museo de Zoología, University of Navarra, Pamplona (Spain).

Examination of the type material of the Oriental representatives of the genus Onthophagus Latreille, 1802 (Coleoptera: Scarabaeidae: Scarabaeinae: Onthophagini) deposited at the Natural History Museum in London, National Museum of Natural History in Paris, Museum of Natural History in Basel and National Museum in Prague revealed seven new synonyms. The names synonymized herein were described as separate species mainly for two reasons. The first reason owes to the insufficient knowledge of entire Onthophagus diversity from Oriental Region and the fact that authors describing new species did not check the type material or even original descriptions for already described taxa. The following synonymized species were likely described due to this oversight: O. anamalaiensis Balthasar, 1974; O. chulapornus Masumoto, Ochi & Hanboonong, 2008; O. demaak Masumoto, 1989; O. jucundus Arrow, 1931; O. laosensis Frey, 1971; and O. parvidens Frey, 1971. The second reason is the great range of intraspecific variation of such allometric characters as shape of head, horns and pronotum in Onthophagus. Therefore, detailed examination of the external characters for the large series of specimens, and careful study of male genitalia are required for reliable species identification. Unfortunately, this was not the case for many new species descriptions. In particular, O. perroti Paulian, 1978, was described as a species but actually only represents the minor form of O. orientalis Harold, 1868. The lectotype of O. gracilipes is designated in order to preserve the stability of zoological nomenclature.

The subgenus Tetramelus Motschulsky, 1869 with its currently 109 palaearctic species, is the largest Palaearctic subgenus of the largest world scydmaenine genus Euconnus Thomson, 1859. The nomenclatural validity of the subgenus-name has been recently supported by a detailed morphological study (Jałoszyński 2015). Euconnus (Tetramelus) kraussi was described by Edmund Reitter (1881a), with the type locality indicated as Caucasus, Martkopi. This was the second species of the subgenus Tetramelus known to occur in the entire Caucasus region, after Euconnus (Tetramelus) reitteri Saulcy, 1878, the latter with unknown type locality. The former was treated as a junior synonym of the latter by Croissandeau (1898), and as a subspecies by Karaman (1973). A modern redescription and illustration of the aedeagus was given by Vít & Hlaváč (1998), together with a key to all species of Tetramelus known at that time from the Caucasus. Castellini (2006: 102) placed Euconnus (Tetramelus) kraussi as a junior synonym of Euconnus (Tetramelus) reitteri. This taxonomic act was based just on the similarity of aedeagi of these two taxa illustrated by Vít & Hlaváč (1998). No type material was studied. Euconnus (Tetramelus) reitteri is smaller, only 1.25-1.30 mm long, against 1.40-1.60 mm for Euconnus (Tetramelus) kraussi. To combine this with differences on the aedeagus and with the allopatric distribution, we regard these two forms as two different species. Later, two new species were described, Euconnus (Tetramelus) marinae Franz, 1979, the type locality „Kachetien nächst Shuamta“ and Euconnus (Tetramelus) nachuzrischwilii Franz, 1986, the type locality „nördlich von Anamuri in etwa 1000 m“. Both were included in the key of Vít & Hlaváč (1998). The type material of both these species was found well-preserved in the Natural History Museum in Vienna (NMW), and thanks to Dr. Harald Schillhammer it was available to the senior author for study. A detailed study of this material proved that both species were conspecific with Euconnus (Tetramelus) kraussi, and their synonymy is formally established here. We are also providing new records for this species, which is so far endemic to eastern Georgia, well delimited by the Meskheti-Likhi range. The material treated in this study is deposited in the following collections: MNHN – Muséum National d‘Histoire Naturelle, Paris, France; NMW – Naturhistorisches Museum Wien, Vienna, Austria; PCAP – private collection of Andreas Pütz, Eisenhüttenstadt, Germany; PCHM – private collection of Heinrich Meybohm, Großhansdorf, Germany; PCMS – private collection of Michael Schülke, Berlin, Germany; PCPH – private collection of Peter Hlaváč, Prague, Czech Republic. The distributional map was created using Encarta software.

Abrantes, E.A., Bellini, B.C., Bernardo, A.N., Fernandes, L.H., Mendonça, M.C., Oliveira, E.P., Queiroz, G.C., Sautter, K.D., Silveira, T.C. & Zeppelini, D. (2010) Synthesis of Brazilian Collembola: an update to the species list. Zootaxa, 2388, 1–22.Ågren, H. (1903) Diagnosen einiger neuen Achorutiden aus Schweden (Vorläufige Mittheilungen). Entomologisk Tidskrift, 24, 126–128.Arlé, R. (1959) Collembola Arthropleona do Brasil oriental e central. Arquivos do Museu Nacional, 49, 155–211.Bellinger, P.F., Christiansen, K.A. & Janssens, F. (2010) Checklist of the Collembola of the World. Available from: http://www.collembola.org (Accessed 25 November 2010).Bonet, F. (1930) Remarques sur les hypogastruriens cavernicoles avec descriptions d’espèces nouvelles (Collembola). Eos Madrid, 6, 113–139.Börner, C. (1906) Das System der Collembolen nebst Beschreibung neuer Collembolen des Hamburger Naturhistorischen Museums. Mitteilungen aus den Naturhistorischen Museum in Hamburg, 23, 147–188.Cassagnau, P. & Rapoport, E.H. (1962) Collemboles d’Amérique du Sud, I Poduromorphes. Biologie de la Amérique Australe, 1, 139–184.Denis, J.R. (1931) Collemboles de Costa Rica avec une contribution au spèces d’lordre. Bolletino del Laboratorio di Zoologia Generale e Agraria della Facoltà Agraria in Portici, 25, 69–170.Fernandes, L.H. & Mendonça, M.C. (2004) Collembola Poduromorpha do litoral de Maricá, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil. Revista Brasileira de Zoologia, 21, 15–25.Massoud, Z. (1967) Monographie des Neanuridae, Collemboles Poduromorphes à pièces buccales modifiées. Biologie de l'Amérique Australe, Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Volume III, Paris, pp.7–399.Mendonça, M.C. & Fernandes, L.H. (1997) A new genus of Brachystomellinae from Brazil (Collembola: Neanuridae). Boletim do Museu Nacional, nova seérie, zoologia, Rio de Janeiro, 379, 1–7.Najt, J. & Massoud, Z. (1974) Contribution à l’étude des Brachystomellinae (Insectes, Collemboles). I.—Nouvelles espèces récoltées en Argentine. Revue d’Ecologie et de Biologie du Sol, 11 (3), 367–372.Najt, J. & Palacios-Vargas, J.G. (1986) Nuevos Brachystomellinae de Mexico (Collembola, Neanuridae). Nouvelle Revue d’Entomologie, 3 (4), 457–471.Najt, J. & Weiner, W.M. (1996) Geographical distribution of Brachystomellinae (Collembola: Neanuridae). Pan-Pacific Entomologist, 72 (2), 61–69.Najt, J., Weiner, W.M. & Grandcolas, P. (2005) Phylogeny of the Brachystomellidae (Collembola) — were the mandibles ancestrally absent and did they re-appear in this family? Zoologica Scripta, 34, 305–312.Rapoport, E.H. & Rubio, I. (1963) Fauna collembologica de Chili. Investigaciones Zoologicas Chilenas, 9, 95–124.Schäffer, C. (1896) Die Collembolen der Umgebung von Hamburg und benachbarter Gebiete. Mitteilungen aus dem Naturhistorischen Museum in Hamburg, 13, 149–216.Weiner, W.M. & Najt, J. (2001) Species of Brachystomella (Collembola: Brachystomellidae) from the Neotropical region. European Journal of Entomology, 98 (3), 387–413.Wray, D.L. (1953) New Collembola from Puerto Rico. Journal of Agriculture of the University of Puerto Rico, 37 (2), 140–150.

Covid 19 – living the experience As I sit at my desk at home in suburban Brisbane, following the dictates on self-isolation shared with so many around the world, I am forced to contemplate the limits of human prediction. I look out on a world which few could have predicted six months ago. My thoughts at that time were all about 2020 as a metaphor for perfect vision and a plea for it to herald a new period of clarity which would arm us in resolving the whole host of false divisions that surrounded us. False, because so many appear to be generated by the use of polarised labelling strategies which sought to categorise humans by a whole range of identities, while losing the essential humanity and individuality which we all share. This was a troublesome trend and one which seemed reminiscent of the biblical tale concerning the tower of Babel, when a single unified language was what we needed to create harmony in a globalising world. However, yesterday’s concerns have, at least for the moment, been overshadowed by a more urgent and unifying concern with humanity’s health and wellbeing. For now, this concern has created a world which we would not have recognised in 2019. We rely more than ever on our various forms of electronic media to beam instant shots of the streets of London, New York, Berlin, Paris, Hong Kong etc. These centres of our worldly activity normally characterised by hustle and bustle, are now serenely peaceful and ordered. Their magnificent buildings have become foregrounded, assuming a dignity and presence that is more commonly overshadowed by the mad ceaseless scramble of humanity all around them. From there however the cameras can jump to some of the less fortunate areas of the globe. These streets are still teeming with people in close confined areas. There is little hope here of following frequent extended hand washing practices, let alone achieving the social distance prescribed to those of us in the global North. From this desk top perspective, it has been interesting to chart the mood as the crisis has unfolded. It has moved from a slightly distant sense of superiority as the news slowly unfolded about events in remote Wuhan. The explanation that the origins were from a live market, where customs unfamiliar to our hygienic pre-packaged approach to food consumption were practised, added to this sense of separateness and exoticism surrounding the source and initial development of the virus. However, this changed to a growing sense of concern as its growth and transmission slowly began to reveal the vulnerability of all cultures to its spread. At this early stage, countries who took steps to limit travel from infected areas seemed to gain some advantage. Australia, as just one example banned flights from China and required all Chinese students coming to study in Australia to self-isolate for two weeks in a third intermediate port. It was a step that had considerable economic costs associated with it. One that was vociferously resisted at the time by the university sector increasingly dependent on the revenue generated by servicing Chinese students. But it was when the epicentre moved to northern Italy, that the entire messaging around the event began to change internationally. At this time the tone became increasingly fearful, anxious and urgent as reports of overwhelmed hospitals and mass burials began to dominate the news. Consequently, governments attracted little criticism but were rather widely supported in the action of radically closing down their countries in order to limit human interaction. The debate had become one around the choice between health and economic wellbeing. The fact that the decision has been overwhelmingly for health, has been encouraging. It has not however stopped the pressure from those who believe that economic well-being is a determinant of human well-being, questioning the decisions of politicians and the advice of public health scientists that have dominated the responses to date. At this stage, the lives versus livelihoods debate has a long way still to run. Of some particular interest has been the musings of the opinion writers who have predicted that the events of these last months will change our world forever. Some of these predictions have included the idea that rather than piling into common office spaces working remotely from home and other advantageous locations will be here to stay. Schools and universities will become centres of learning more conveniently accessed on-line rather than face to face. Many shopping centres will become redundant and goods will increasingly be delivered via collection centres or couriers direct to the home. Social distancing will impact our consumption of entertainment at common venues and lifestyle events such as dining out. At the macro level, it has been predicted that globalisation in its present form will be reversed. The pandemic has led to actions being taken at national levels and movement being controlled by the strengthening and increased control of physical borders. Tourism has ground to a halt and may not resume on its current scale or in its present form as unnecessary travel, at least across borders, will become permanently reduced. Advocates of change have pointed to some of the unpredicted benefits that have been occurring. These include a drop in air pollution: increased interaction within families; more reading undertaken by younger adults; more systematic incorporation of exercise into daily life, and; a rediscovered sense of community with many initiatives paying tribute to the health and essential services workers who have been placed at the forefront of this latest struggle with nature. Of course, for all those who point to benefits in the forced lifestyle changes we have been experiencing, there are those who would tell a contrary tale. Demonstrations in the US have led the push by those who just want things to get back to normal as quickly as possible. For this group, confinement at home creates more problems. These may be a function of the proximity of modern cramped living quarters, today’s crowded city life, dysfunctional relationships, the boredom of self-entertainment or simply the anxiety that comes with an insecure livelihood and an unclear future. Personally however, I am left with two significant questions about our future stimulated by the events that have been ushered in by 2020. The first is how is it that the world has been caught so unprepared by this pandemic? The second is to what extent do we have the ability to recalibrate our current practices and view an alternative future? In considering the first, it has been enlightening to observe the extent to which politicians have turned to scientific expertise in order to determine their actions. Terms like ‘flattening the curve’, ‘community transmission rates’, have become part of our daily lexicon as the statistical modellers advance their predictions as to how the disease will spread and impact on our health systems. The fact that scientists are presented as the acceptable and credible authority and the basis for our actions reflects a growing dependency on data and modelling that has infused our society generally. This acceptance has been used to strengthen the actions on behalf of the human lives first and foremost position. For those who pursue the livelihoods argument even bigger figures are available to be thrown about. These relate to concepts such as numbers of jobless, increase in national debt, growth in domestic violence, rise in mental illness etc. However, given that they are more clearly estimates and based on less certain assumptions and variables, they do not at this stage seem to carry the impact of the data produced by public health experts. This is not surprising but perhaps not justifiable when we consider the failure of the public health lobby to adequately prepare or forewarn us of the current crisis in the first place. Statistical predictive models are built around historical data, yet their accuracy depends upon the quality of those data. Their robustness for extrapolation to new settings for example will differ as these differ in a multitude of subtle ways from the contexts in which they were initially gathered. Our often uncritical dependence upon ‘scientific’ processes has become worrying, given that as humans, even when guided by such useful tools, we still tend to repeat mistakes or ignore warnings. At such a time it is an opportunity for us to return to the reservoir of human wisdom to be found in places such as our great literature. Works such as The Plague by Albert Camus make fascinating and educative reading for us at this time. As the writer observes Everybody knows that pestilences have a way of recurring in the world, yet somehow, we find it hard to believe in ones that crash down on our heads from a blue sky. There have been as many plagues as wars in history, yet always plagues and wars take people equally by surprise. So it is that we constantly fail to study let alone learn the lessons of history. Yet 2020 mirrors 1919, as at that time the world was reeling with the impact of the Spanish ‘Flu, which infected 500 million people and killed an estimated 50 million. This was more than the 40 million casualties of the four years of the preceding Great War. There have of course been other pestilences since then and much more recently. Is our stubborn failure to learn because we fail to value history and the knowledge of our forebears? Yet we can accept with so little question the accuracy of predictions based on numbers, even with varying and unquestioned levels of validity and reliability. As to the second question, many writers have been observing some beneficial changes in our behaviour and our environment, which have emerged in association with this sudden break in our normal patterns of activity. It has given us the excuse to reevaluate some of our practices and identify some clear benefits that have been occurring. As Australian newspaper columnist Bernard Salt observes in an article titled “the end of narcissism?” I think we’ve been re-evaluating the entire contribution/reward equation since the summer bushfires and now, with the added experience of the pandemic, we can see the shallowness of the so-called glamour professions – the celebrities, the influencers. We appreciate the selflessness of volunteer firefighters, of healthcare workers and supermarket staff. From the pandemic’s earliest days, glib forays into social media by celebrities seeking attention and yet further adulation have been met with stony disapproval. Perhaps it is best that they stay offline while our real heroes do the heavy lifting. To this sad unquestioning adherence to both scientism and narcissism, we can add and stir the framing of the climate rebellion and a myriad of familiar ‘first world’ problems which have caused dissension and disharmony in our communities. Now with an external threat on which to focus our attention, there has been a short lull in the endless bickering and petty point scoring that has characterised our western liberal democracies in the last decade. As Camus observed: The one way of making people hang together is to give ‘em a spell of the plague. So, the ceaseless din of the topics that have driven us apart has miraculously paused for at least a moment. Does this then provide a unique opportunity for us together to review our habitual postures and adopt a more conciliatory and harmonious communication style, take stock, critically evaluate and retune our approach to life – as individuals, as nations, as a species? It is not too difficult to hypothesise futures driven by the major issues that have driven us apart. Now, in our attempts to resist the virus, we have given ourselves a glimpse of some of the very things the climate change activists have wished to happen. With few planes in the air and the majority of cars off the roads, we have already witnessed clearer and cleaner air. Working at home has freed up the commuter driven traffic and left many people with more time to spend with their family. Freed from the continuing throng of tourists, cities like Venice are regenerating and cleansing themselves. This small preview of what a less travelled world might start to look like surely has some attraction. But of course, it does not come without cost. With the lack of tourism and the need to work at home, jobs and livelihoods have started to change. As with any revolution there are both winners and losers. The lockdown has distinguished starkly between essential and non-essential workers. That represents a useful starting point from which to assess what is truly of value in our way of life and what is peripheral as Salt made clear. This is a question that I would encourage readers to explore and to take forward with them through the resolution of the current situation. However, on the basis that educators are seen as providing essential services, now is the time to turn to the content of our current volume. Once again, I direct you to the truly international range of our contributors. They come from five different continents yet share a common focus on one of the most popular of shared cultural experiences – sport. Unsurprisingly three of our reviewed papers bring different insights to the world’s most widely shared sport of all – football, or as it would be more easily recognised in some parts of the globe - soccer. Leading these offerings is a comparison of fandom in Australia and China. The story presented by Knijnk highlights the rise of the fanatical supporters known as the ultras. The origin of the movement is traced to Italy, but it is one that claims allegiances now around the world. Kniijnk identifies the movement’s progression into Australia and China and, in pointing to its stance against the commercialisation of their sport by the scions of big business, argues for its deeper political significance and its commitment to the democratic ownership of sport. Reflecting the increasing availability and use of data in our modern societies, Karadog, Parim and Cene apply some of the immense data collected on and around the FIFA World Cup to the task of selecting the best team from the 2018 tournament held in Russia, a task more usually undertaken by panels of experts. Mindful of the value of using data in ways that can assist future decision making, rather than just in terms of summarising past events, they also use the statistics available to undertake a second task. The second task was the selection of the team with the greatest future potential by limiting eligibility to those at an early stage in their careers, namely younger than 28 and who arguably had still to attain their prime as well as having a longer career still ahead of them. The results for both selections confirm how membership of the wealthy European based teams holds the path to success and recognition at the global level no matter what the national origins of players might be. Thirdly, taking links between the sport and the world of finance a step further, Gomez-Martinez, Marques-Bogliani and Paule-Vianez report on an interesting study designed to test the hypothesis that sporting success within a community is reflected in positive economic outcomes for members of that community. They make a bold attempt to test their hypothesis by examining the relationship of the performance of three world leading clubs in Europe - Bayern Munich, Juventus and Paris Saint Germain and the performance of their local stock markets. Their findings make for some interesting thoughts about the significance of sport in the global economy and beyond into the political landscape of our interconnected world. Our final paper comes from Africa but for its subject matter looks to a different sport, one that rules the subcontinent of India - cricket. Norrbhai questions the traditional coaching of batting in cricket by examining the backlift techniques of the top players in the Indian Premier league. His findings suggest that even in this most traditional of sports, technique will develop and change in response to the changing context provided by the game itself. In this case the context is the short form of the game, introduced to provide faster paced entertainment in an easily consumable time span. It provides a useful reminder how in sport, techniques will not be static but will continue to evolve as the game that provides the context for the skilled performance also evolves. To conclude our pages, I must apologise that our usual book review has fallen prey to the current world disruption. In its place I would like to draw your attention to the announcement of a new publication which would make a worthy addition to the bookshelf of any international sports scholar. “Softpower, Soccer, Supremacy – The Chinese Dream” represents a unique and timely analysis of the movement of the most popular and influential game in the world – Association Football, commonly abbreviated to soccer - into the mainstream of Chinese national policy. The editorial team led by one of sports histories most recognised scholars, Professor J A Mangan, has assembled a who’s who of current scholars in sport in Asia. Together they provide a perspective that takes in, not just the Chinese view of these important current developments but also, the view of others in the geographical region. From Japan, Korea and Australia, they bring with them significant experience to not just the beautiful game, but sport in general in that dynamic and fast-growing part of the world. Particularly in the light of the European dominance identified in the Karog, Parim and Cene paper this work raises the question as to whether we can expect to see a change in the world order sooner rather than later. It remains for me to make one important acknowledgement. In my last editorial I alerted you to the sorts of decisions we as an editorial and publication team were facing with regard to ensuring the future of the journal. Debates as to how best to proceed while staying true to our vision and goals are still proceeding. However, I am pleased to acknowledge the sponsorship provided by The University of Macao for volume 42 and recognise the invaluable contribution made by ISCPES former president Walter Ho to this process. Sponsorship can provide an important input to the ongoing existence and strength of this journal and we would be interested in talking to other institutions or groups who might also be interested in supporting our work, particularly where their goals align closely with ours. May I therefore commend to you the works of our international scholars and encourage your future involvement in sharing your interest in and expertise with others in the world of comparative and international sport studies, John Saunders, Brisbane, May 2020

The inventory of biodiversity in the Comoros archipelago is still in progress. We propose here to contribute to this effort by assessing the diversity of the Hymenophyllaceae family, which forms one of the most diverse and emblematic fern communities in rainforests of the region. Data were extracted from floras, literature, recent collects and observations, and from an exhaustive investigation of the Paris herbarium collection. We also completed an online knowledge database including a computer-aided identification (CAI) tool by using the Xper platform. Our checklist recognizes 21 taxa involving 1 endemic and 7 species newly reported for the archipelago. The taxonomy and discrimination of each taxon is discussed and a dichotomous key is provided. We also defined 80 morphological characters and their corresponding states into the Xper database and CAI that could be easily enriched for neighbouring areas and additional taxa.

There is, in our sense of place, little cognisance of what lies underground. Yet our sense of place, instinctive, unconscious, primeval, has its own underground: the secret spaces which mirror our insides; the world beneath the skin. Our roots lie beneath the ground, with the minerals and the dead. (Hughes 83) The-Home-and-Away-Game Imagine the earth-grounded, “diagrammatological” trajectory of a footballer who as one member of a team is psyching himself up before the start of a game. The siren blasts its trumpet call. The footballer bursts out of the pavilion (where this psyching up has taken place) to engage in the opening bounce or kick of the game. And then: running, leaping, limping after injury, marking, sliding, kicking, and possibly even passing out from concussion. Finally, the elation accompanying the final siren, after which hugs, handshakes and raised fists conclude the actual match on the football oval. This exit from the pavilion, the course the player takes during the game itself, and return to the pavilion, forms a combination of stasis and movement, and a return to exhausted stasis again, that every player engages with regardless of the game code. Examined from a “diagrammatological” perspective, a perspective Rowan Wilken (following in the path of Gilles Deleuze and W. J. T. Mitchell) understands as “a generative process: a ‘metaphor’ or way of thinking — diagrammatic, diagrammatological thinking — which in turn, is linked to poetic thinking” (48), this footballer’s scenario arises out of an aerial perspective that depicts the actual spatial trajectory the player takes during the course of a game. It is a diagram that is digitally encoded via a sensor on the footballer’s body, and being an electronically encoded diagram it can also make available multiple sets of data such as speed, heartbeat, blood pressure, maybe even brain-wave patterns. From this limited point of view there is only one footballer’s playing trajectory to consider; various groupings within the team, the whole team itself, and the diagrammatological depiction of its games with various other teams might also be possible. This singular imagining though is itself an actuality: as a diagram it is encoded as a graphic image by a satellite hovering around the earth with a Global Positioning System (GPS) reading the sensor attached to the footballer which then digitally encodes this diagrammatological trajectory for appraisal later by the player, coach, team and management. In one respect, this practice is another example of a willing self-surveillance critical to explaining the reflexive subject and its attribute of continuous self-improvement. According to Docker, Official Magazine of the Fremantle Football Club, this is a technique the club uses as a part of game/play assessment, a system that can provide a “running map” for each player equipped with such a tracking device during a game. As the Fremantle Club’s Strength and Conditioning Coach Ben Tarbox says of this tactic, “We’re getting a physiological profile that has started to build a really good picture of how individual players react during a game” (21). With a little extra effort (and some sizeable computer processing grunt) this two dimensional linear graphic diagram of a footballer working the football ground could also form the raw material for a three-dimensional animation, maybe a virtual reality game, even a hologram. It could also be used to sideline a non-performing player. Now try another related but different imagining: what if this diagrammatological trajectory could be enlarged a little to include the possibility that this same player’s movements could be mapped out by the idea of home-and-away games; say over the course of a season, maybe even a whole career, for instance? No doubt, a wide range of differing diagrammatological perspectives might suggest themselves. My own particular refinement of this movement/stasis on the footballer’s part suggests my own distinctive comings and goings to and from my own specific piece of home country. And in this incessantly domestic/real world reciprocity, in this diurnally repetitive leaving and coming back to home country, might it be plausible to think of “Home as Capital of the Region”? If, as Walter Benjamin suggests in the prelude to his monumental Arcades Project, “Paris — the Capital of the Nineteenth Century,” could it be that both in and through my comings and goings to and from this selfsame home country, my own burgeoning sense of regionality is constituted in every minute-by-minutiae of lived experience? Could it be that this feeling about home is manifested in my every day-to-night manoeuvre of home-and-away-and-away-and-home-making, of every singular instance of exit, play/engage, and the return home? “Home, Capital of the Region” then examines the idea that my home is that part of the country which is the still-point of eternal return, the bedrock to which I retreat after the daily grind, and the point from which I start out and do it all again the next day. It employs, firstly, this ‘diagrammatological’ perspective to illustrate the point that this stasis/movement across country can make an electronic record of my own psychic self-surveillance and actualisation in-situ. And secondly, the architectural plan of the domestic home (examined through the perspective of critical regionalism) is used as a conduit to illustrate how I am physically embedded in country. Lastly, intermingling these digressive threads is chora, Plato’s notion of embodied place and itself an ancient regional rendering of this eternal return to the beginning, the place where the essential diversity of country decisively enters the soul. Chora: Core of Regionality Kevin Lynch writes that, “Our senses are local, while our experience is regional” (10), a combination that suggests this regional emphasis on home-and-away-making might be a useful frame of reference (simultaneously spatiotemporal, both a visceral and encoded communication) for me to include as a crucial vector in my own life-long learning package. Regionality (as, variously, a sub-generic categorisation and an extension/concentration of nationality, as well as a recently re-emerged friend/antagonist to a global understanding) infuses my world of home with a grounded footing in country, one that is a site of an Eternal Return to the Beginning in the micro-world of the everyday. This is a point John Sallis discusses at length in his analysis of Plato’s Timaeus and its founding notion of regionality: chora. More extended absences away from home-base are of course possible but one’s return to home on most days and for most nights is a given of post/modern, maybe even of ancient everyday experience. Even for the continually shifting nomad, nightfall in some part of the country brings the rest and recreation necessary for the next day’s wanderings. This fundamental question of an Eternal Return to the Beginning arises as a crucial element of the method in Plato’s Timaeus, a seemingly “unstructured” mythic/scientific dialogue about the origins and structure of both the psychically and the physically implaced world. In the Timaeus, “incoherence is especially obvious in the way the natural sequence in which a narrative would usually unfold is interrupted by regressions, corrections, repetitions, and abrupt new beginnings” (Gadamer 160). Right in the middle of the Timaeus, in between its sections on the “Work of Reason” and the “Work of Necessity”, sits chora, both an actual spatial and bodily site where my being intersects with my becoming, and where my lived life criss-crosses the various arts necessary to articulating a recorded version of that life. Every home is a grounded chora-logical timespace harness guiding its occupant’s thoughts, feelings and actions. My own regionally implaced chora (an example of which is the diagrammatological trajectory already outlined above as my various everyday comings and goings, of me acting in and projecting myself into context) could in part be understood as a graphical realisation of the extent of my movements and stationary rests in my own particular timespace trajectory. The shorthand for this process is ‘embedded’. Gregory Ulmer writes of chora that, “While chorography as a term is close to choreography, it duplicates a term that already exists in the discipline of geography, thus establishing a valuable resonance for a rhetoric of invention concerned with the history of ‘place’ in relation to memory” (Heuretics 39, original italics). Chorography is the geographic discipline for the systematic study and analysis of regions. Chora, home, country and regionality thus form an important multi-dimensional zone of interplay in memorialising the game of everyday life. In light of these observations I might even go so far as to suggest that this diagrammatological trajectory (being both digital and GPS originated) is part of the increasingly electrate condition that guides the production of knowledge in any global/regional context. This last point is a contextual connection usefully examined in Alan J. Scott’s Regions and the World Economy: The Coming Shape of Global Production, Competition, and Political Order and Michael Storper’s The Regional World: Territorial Development in a Global Economy. Their analyses explicitly suggest that the symbiosis between globalisation and regionalisation has been gathering pace since at least the end of World War Two and the Bretton Woods agreement. Our emerging understanding of electracy also happens to be Gregory Ulmer’s part-remedy for shifting the ground under the intense debates surrounding il/literacy in the current era (see, in particular, Internet Invention). And, for Tony Bennett, Michael Emmison and John Frow’s analysis of “Australian Everyday Cultures” (“Media Culture and the Home” 57–86), it is within the home that our un.conscious understanding of electronic media is at its most intense, a pattern that emerges in the longer term through receiving telegrams, compiling photo albums, listening to the radio, home- and video-movies, watching the evening news on television, and logging onto the computer in the home-office, media-room or home-studio. These various generalisations (along with this diagrammatological view of my comings and goings to and from the built space of home), all point indiscriminately to a productive confusion surrounding the sedentary and nomadic opposition/conjunction. If natural spaces are constituted in nouns like oceans, forests, plains, grasslands, steppes, deserts, rivers, tidal interstices, farmland etc. (and each categorisation here relies on the others for its existence and demarcation) then built space is often seen as constituting its human sedentary equivalent. For Deleuze and Guatteri (in A Thousand Plateaus, “1227: Treatise on Nomadology — The War Machine”) these natural spaces help instigate a nomadic movement across localities and regions. From a nomadology perspective, these smooth spaces unsettle a scientific, numerical calculation, sometimes even aesthetic demarcation and order. If they are marked at all, it is by heterogenous and differential forces, energised through constantly oscillating intensities. A Thousand Plateaus is careful though not to elevate these smooth nomadic spaces over the more sedentary spaces of culture and power (372–373). Nonetheless, as Edward S. Casey warns, “In their insistence on becoming and movement, however, the authors of A Thousand Plateaus overlook the placial potential of settled dwelling — of […] ‘built places’” (309, original italics). Sedentary, settled dwelling centred on home country may have a crust of easy legibility and order about it but it also formats a locally/regionally specific nomadic quality, a point underscored above in the diagrammatological perspective. The sedentary tendency also emerges once again in relation to home in the architectural drafting of the domestic domicile. The Real Estate Revolution When Captain Cook planted the British flag in the sand at Botany Bay in 1770 and declared the country it spiked as Crown Land and henceforth will come under the ownership of an English sovereign, it was also the moment when white Australia’s current fascination with real estate was conceived. In the wake of this spiking came the intense anxiety over Native Title that surfaced in late twentieth century Australia when claims of Indigenous land grabs would repossess suburban homes. While easily dismissed as hyperbole, a rhetorical gesture intended to arouse this very anxiety, its emergence is nonetheless an indication of the potential for political and psychic unsettling at the heart of the ownership and control of built place, or ‘settled dwelling’ in the Australian context. And here it would be wise to include not just the gridded, architectural quality of home-building and home-making, but also the home as the site of the family romance, another source of unsettling as much as a peaceful calming. Spreading out from the boundaries of the home are the built spaces of fences, bridges, roads, railways, airport terminals (along with their interconnecting pathways), which of course brings us back to the communications infrastructure which have so often followed alongside the development of transport infrastructure. These and other elements represent this conglomerate of built space, possibly the most significant transformation of natural space that humanity has brought about. For the purposes of this meditation though it is the more personal aspect of built space — my home and regional embeddedness, along with their connections into the global electrosphere — that constitutes the primary concern here. For a sedentary, striated space to settle into an unchallenged existence though requires a repression of the highest order, primarily because of the home’s proximity to everyday life, of the latter’s now fading ability to sometimes leave its presuppositions well enough alone. In settled, regionally experienced space, repressions are more difficult to abstract away, they are lived with on a daily basis, which also helps to explain the extra intensity brought to their sometimes-unsettling quality. Inversely, and encased in this globalised electro-spherical ambience, home cannot merely be a place where one dwells within avoiding those presuppositions, I take them with me when I travel and they come back with me from afar. This is a point obliquely reflected in Pico Iyer’s comment that “Australians have so flexible a sense of home, perhaps, that they can make themselves at home anywhere” (185). While our sense of home may well be, according to J. Douglas Porteous, “the territorial core” of our being, when other arrangements of space and knowledge shift it must inevitably do so as well. In these shifts of spatial affiliation (aided and abetted by regionalisation, globalisation and electronic knowledge), the built place of home can no longer be considered exclusively under the illusion of an autonomous sanctuary wholly guaranteed by capitalist property relations, one of the key factors in its attraction. These shifts in the cultural, economic and psychic relation of home to country are important to a sense of local and regional implacement. The “feeling” of autonomy and security involved in home occupation and/or ownership designates a component of this implacement, a point leading to Eric Leed’s comment that, “By the sixteenth century, literacy had become one of the definitive signs — along with the possession of property and a permanent residence — of an independent social status” (53). Globalising and regionalising forces make this feeling of autonomy and security dynamic, shifting the ground of home, work-place practices and citizenship allegiances in the process. Gathering these wide-ranging forces impacting on psychic and built space together is the emergence of critical regionalism as a branch of architectonics, considered here as a theory of domestic architecture. Critical Regionality Critical regionalism emerged out of the collective thinking of Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis (Tropical Architecture; Critical Regionalism), and as these authors themselves acknowledge, was itself deeply influenced by the work of Lewis Mumford during the first part of the twentieth century when he was arguing against the authority of the international style in architecture, a style epitomised by the Bauhaus movement. It is Kenneth Frampton’s essay, “Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance” that deliberately takes this question of critical regionalism and makes it a part of a domestic architectonic project. In many ways the ideas critical regionalism espouses can themselves be a microcosm of this concomitantly emerging global/regional polis. With public examples of built-form the power of the centre is on display by virtue of a building’s enormous size and frequently high-cultural aesthetic power. This is a fact restated again and again from the ancient world’s agora to Australia’s own political bunker — its Houses of Parliament in Canberra. While Frampton discusses a range of aspects dealing with the universal/implaced axis across his discussion, it is points five and six that deserve attention from a domestically implaced perspective. Under the sub-heading, “Culture Versus Nature: Topography, Context, Climate, Light and Tectonic Form” is where he writes that, Here again, one touches in concrete terms this fundamental opposition between universal civilization and autochthonous culture. The bulldozing of an irregular topography into a flat site is clearly a technocratic gesture which aspires to a condition of absolute placelessness, whereas the terracing of the same site to receive the stepped form of a building is an engagement in the act of “cultivating” the site. (26, original italics) The “totally flat datum” that the universalising tendency sometimes presupposes is, within the critical regionalist perspective, an erroneous assumption. The “cultivation” of a site for the design of a building illustrates the point that built space emerges out of an interaction between parallel phenomena as they contrast and/or converge in a particular set of timespace co-ordinates. These are phenomena that could include (but are not limited to) geomorphic data like soil and rock formations, seismic activity, inclination and declension; climatic considerations in the form of wind patterns, temperature variations, rainfall patterns, available light and dark, humidity and the like; the building context in relation to the cardinal points of north, south, east, and west, along with their intermediary positions. There are also architectural considerations in the form of available building materials and personnel to consider. The social, psychological and cultural requirements of the building’s prospective in-dwellers are intermingled with all these phenomena. This is not so much a question of where to place the air conditioning system but the actuality of the way the building itself is placed on its site, or indeed if that site should be built on at all. A critical regionalist building practice, then, is autochthonous to the degree that a full consideration of this wide range of in-situ interactions is taken into consideration in the development of its design plan. And given this autochthonous quality of the critical regionalist project, it also suggests that the architectural design plan itself (especially when it utilised in conjunction with CAD and virtual reality simulations), might be the better model for designing electrate-centred projects rather than writing or even the script. The proliferation of ‘McMansions’ across many Australian suburbs during the 1990s (generally, oversized domestic buildings designed in the abstract with little or no thought to the above mentioned elements, on bulldozed sites, with powerful air-conditioning systems, and no verandas or roof eves to speak of) demonstrates the continuing influence of a universal, centralising dogma in the realm of built place. As summer temperatures start to climb into the 40°C range all these air-conditioners start to hum in unison, which in turn raises the susceptibility of the supporting infrastructure to collapse under the weight of an overbearing electrical load. The McMansion is a clear example of a built form that is envisioned more so in a drafting room, a space where the architect is remote-sensing the locational specificities. In this envisioning (driven more by a direct line-of-sight idiom dominant in “flat datum” and economic considerations rather than architectural or experiential ones), the tactile is subordinated, which is the subject of Frampton’s sixth point: It is symptomatic of the priority given to sight that we find it necessary to remind ourselves that the tactile is an important dimension in the perception of built form. One has in mind a whole range of complementary sensory perceptions which are registered by the labile body: the intensity of light, darkness, heat and cold; the feeling of humidity; the aroma of material; the almost palpable presence of masonry as the body senses it own confinement; the momentum of an induced gait and the relative inertia of the body as it traverses the floor; the echoing resonance of our own footfall. (28) The point here is clear: in its wider recognition of, and the foregrounding of my body’s full range of sensate capacities in relation to both natural and built space, the critical regionalist approach to built form spreads its meaning-making capacities across a broader range of knowledge modalities. This tactility is further elaborated in more thoroughly personal ways by Margaret Morse in her illuminating essay, “Home: Smell, Taste, Posture, Gleam”. Paradoxically, this synaesthetic, syncretic approach to bodily meaning-making in a built place, regional milieu intensely concentrates the site-centred locus of everyday life, while simultaneously, the electronic knowledge that increasingly underpins it expands both my body’s and its region’s knowledge-making possibilities into a global gestalt, sometimes even a cosmological one. It is a paradoxical transformation that makes us look anew at social, cultural and political givens, even objective and empirical understandings, especially as they are articulated through national frames of reference. Domestic built space then is a kind of micro-version of the multi-function polis where work, pleasure, family, rest, public display and privacy intermingle. So in both this reduction and expansion in the constitution of domestic home life, one that increasingly represents the location of the production of knowledge, built place represents a concentration of energy that forces us to re-imagine border-making, order, and the dynamic interplay of nomadic movement and sedentary return, a point that echoes Nicolas Rothwell’s comment that “every exile has in it a homecoming” (80). Albeit, this is a knowledge-making milieu with an expanded range of modalities incorporated and expressed through a wide range of bodily intensities not simply cognitive ones. Much of the ambiguous discontent manifested in McMansion style domiciles across many Western countries might be traced to the fact that their occupants have had little or no say in the way those domiciles have been designed and/or constructed. In Heidegger’s terms, they have not thought deeply enough about “dwelling” in that building, although with the advent of the media room the question of whether a “building” securely borders both “dwelling” and “thinking” is now open to question. As anxieties over border-making at all scales intensifies, the complexities and un/sureties of natural and built space take ever greater hold of the psyche, sometimes through the advance of a “high level of critical self-consciousness”, a process Frampton describes as a “double mediation” of world culture and local conditions (21). Nearly all commentators warn of a nostalgic, romantic or a sentimental regionalism, the sum total of which is aimed at privileging the local/regional and is sometimes utilised as a means of excluding the global or universal, sometimes even the national (Berry 67). Critical regionalism is itself a mediating factor between these dispositions, working its methods and practices through my own psyche into the local, the regional, the national and the global, rejecting and/or accepting elements of these domains, as my own specific context, in its multiplicity, demands it. If the politico-economic and cultural dimensions of this global/regional world have tended to undermine the process of border-making across a range of scales, we can see in domestic forms of built place the intense residue of both their continuing importance and an increased dependency on this electro-mediated world. This is especially apparent in those domiciles whose media rooms (with their satellite dishes, telephone lines, computers, television sets, games consuls, and music stereos) are connecting them to it in virtuality if not in reality. Indeed, the thought emerges (once again keeping in mind Eric Leed’s remark on the literate-configured sense of autonomy that is further enhanced by a separate physical address and residence) that the intense importance attached to domestically orientated built place by globally/regionally orientated peoples will figure as possibly the most viable means via which this sense of autonomy will transfer to electronic forms of knowledge. If, however, this here domestic habitué turns his gaze away from the screen that transports me into this global/regional milieu and I focus my attention on the physicality of the building in which I dwell, I once again stand in the presence of another beginning. This other beginning is framed diagrammatologically by the building’s architectural plans (usually conceived in either an in-situ, autochthonous, or a universal manner), and is a graphical conception that anchors my body in country long after the architects and builders have packed up their tools and left. This is so regardless of whether a home is built, bought, rented or squatted in. Ihab Hassan writes that, “Home is not where one is pushed into the light, but where one gathers it into oneself to become light” (417), an aphorism that might be rephrased as follows: “Home is not where one is pushed into the country, but where one gathers it into oneself to become country.” For the in-and-out-and-around-and-about domestic dweller of the twenty-first century, then, home is where both regional and global forms of country decisively enter the soul via the conduits of the virtuality of digital flows and the reality of architectural footings. Acknowledgements I’m indebted to both David Fosdick and Phil Roe for alerting me to the importance to the Fremantle Dockers Football Club. The research and an original draft of this essay were carried out under the auspices of a PhD scholarship from Central Queensland University, and from whom I would also like to thank Denis Cryle and Geoff Danaher for their advice. References Benjamin, Walter. “Paris — the Capital of the Nineteenth Century.” Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era of High Capitalism. Trans. Quintin Hoare. London: New Left Books, 1973. 155–176. Bennett, Tony, Michael Emmison and John Frow. Accounting for Tastes: Australian Everyday Cultures. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999. Berry, Wendell. “The Regional Motive.” A Continuous Harmony: Essays Cultural and Agricultural. San Diego: Harcourt Brace. 63–70. Casey, Edward S. The Fate of Place: A Philosophical History. Berkeley: U of California P, 1997. Deleuze, Gilles and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U of Minneapolis P, 1987. Deleuze, Gilles. “The Diagram.” The Deleuze Reader. Ed. Constantin Boundas. Trans. Constantin Boundas and Jacqueline Code. New York: Columbia UP, 1993. 193–200. Frampton, Kenneth. “Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance.” The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Post-Modern Culture. Ed. Hal Foster. Port Townsend: Bay Press, 1983. 16–30. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. “Idea and Reality in Plato’s Timaeus.” Dialogue and Dialectic: Eight Hermeneutical Studies on Plato. Trans. P. Christopher Smith. New Haven: Yale UP, 1980. 156–193. Hassan, Ihab. “How Australian Is It?” The Best Australian Essays. Ed. Peter Craven. Melbourne: Black Inc., 2000. 405–417. Heidegger, Martin. “Building Dwelling Thinking.” Poetry, Language, Thought. Trans. Albert Hofstadter. New York: Harper and Row, 1971. 145–161. Hughes, John. The Idea of Home: Autobiographical Essays. Sydney: Giramondo, 2004. Iyer, Pico. “Australia 1988: Five Thousand Miles from Anywhere.” Falling Off the Map: Some Lonely Places of the World. London: Jonathon Cape, 1993. 173–190. “Keeping Track.” Docker, Official Magazine of the Fremantle Football Club. Edition 3, September (2005): 21. Leed, Eric. “‘Voice’ and ‘Print’: Master Symbols in the History of Communication.” The Myths of Information: Technology and Postindustrial Culture. Ed. Kathleen Woodward. Madison, Wisconsin: Coda Press, 1980. 41–61. Lefaivre, Liane and Alexander Tzonis. “The Suppression and Rethinking of Regionalism and Tropicalism After 1945.” Tropical Architecture: Critical Regionalism in the Age of Globalization. Eds. Alexander Tzonis, Liane Lefaivre and Bruno Stagno. Chichester, West Sussex: Wiley-Academy, 2001. 14–58. Lefaivre, Liane and Alexander Tzonis. Critical Regionalism: Architecture and Identity in a Globalized World. New York: Prestel, 2003. Lynch, Kevin. Managing the Sense of a Region. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT P, 1976. Mitchell, W. J. T. “Diagrammatology.” Critical Inquiry 7.3 (1981): 622–633. Morse, Margaret. “Home: Smell, Taste, Posture, Gleam.” Home, Exile, Homeland: Film, Media, and the Politics of Place. Ed. Hamid Naficy. New York and London: Routledge, 1999. 63–74. Plato. Timaeus and Critias. Trans. Desmond Lee. Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1973. Porteous, J. Douglas. “Home: The Territorial Core.” Geographical Review LXVI (1976): 383-390. Rothwell, Nicolas. Wings of the Kite-Hawk: A Journey into the Heart of Australia. Sydney: Pidador, 2003. Sallis, John. Chorology: On Beginning in Plato’s Timaeus. Bloomington: Indianapolis UP, 1999. Scott, Allen J. Regions and the World Economy: The Coming Shape of Global Production, Competition, and Political Order. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Storper, Michael. The Regional World: Territorial Development in a Global Economy. New York: The Guildford Press, 1997. Ulmer, Gregory L. Heuretics: The Logic of Invention. New York: John Hopkins UP, 1994. Ulmer, Gregory. Internet Invention: Literacy into Electracy. Longman: Boston, 2003. Wilken, Rowan. “Diagrammatology.” Illogic of Sense: The Gregory Ulmer Remix. Eds. Darren Tofts and Lisa Gye. Alt-X Press, 2007. 48–60. Available at http://www.altx.com/ebooks/ulmer.html. (Retrieved 12 June 2007)

Introduction: At the Crossroad Well, I’ve been an important pawn [in regeneration], for instance, changing doors and windows, enlarging them, eliminating shutters and thus having big open windows, light […] Then came the florist, through a common friend, who was the second huge pawn who trusted in this […] then came the pastry shop. (Alberto, 54, shop owner). Alberto is the owner of Pleasure Factory, one of two upmarket restaurants in a gentrifying crossroads area in northern Milan. He started buying apartments and empty stores in the 1980s, later becoming property manager of the building where he still lives. He also opened two restaurants, and then set up a neighbourhood commercial organisation. Alberto’s activities, and those of people like him, have been able to reverse the image and the usage of this public crossroad. This is something of which all of the involved actors are well aware. They have “bet,” as they say, and somehow “won” by changing people’s common understanding of, and approach to, this zone. This paper argues for the necessity of a closer look at the ways that place is produced through the multiple activities of small entrepreneurs and social actors, such as Alberto. This is because these activities represent the softer side of gentrification, and can create zones of pleasure and authenticity. Whilst market forces and multiple public interventions of gentrification’s “hard” side can lead to the displacement of people and uneven development, these softer zones of authenticity and pleasure have the power to shape the general neighbourhood brand (Atkinson 1830). Speaking rhetorically, these zones act as synecdoche for the surrounding environment. Places are in part built through the “atmosphere” that consumers seek throughout their daily routines. Following Gernot Böhme’s approach to spatial aesthetics, atmosphere can be viewed as the “relation between environmental qualities and human states” (114) and this relation is worked out daily in gentrified neighbourhoods. Not only do the passer-bys, local entrepreneurs, and sociologists contribute to the local making of atmosphere, but so does the production of the environmental qualities. These are the private and public interventions aimed at refurbishing, and somehow sanitising, specific zones of central neighbourhoods in order to make them suitable for middle class tastes (Julier 875). Not all gentrification processes are similar however, because of the unique influence of each city’s scalar rearrangements. The following section therefore briefly describes the changes in Milan in recent times. The paper will then describe the making of a zone of authentic pleasure at the Isola crossroads. I will show that soft gentrification happens through the making of specific zones where supply and demand match in ways that make for pleasant living. Milan, from Global to Local and Back Milan has a peculiar role in both the Italian and European contexts. Its metropolitan area, of 7.4 million inhabitants on a 12 000 km² surface, makes it the largest in Italy and the fifth in Europe (following Ruhr, Moscow, Paris and London). The municipal power has been pushing for a long-term strategy of population growth that would make Milan the “downtown” of the overall metropolitan area (Bricocoli and Savoldi 19), and take advantage of scalar rearrangements, such as State reconfigurations and setbacks. The overall goal of the government of Milan has been to increase the tax base and the local government’s political power. Milan also demonstrates the entrepreneurial turn adopted by many global cities, evident in the amount of project-based interventions, the involvement of international architecture studios (“La città della Moda” by Cesar Pelli; “Santa Giulia” by Norman Foster; “City-Life” and “the Fair” by Zaha Hadid and David Libeskind), and the hosting of mega-events, such as the Expo 2015. The Milan growth machine works then at different scales (global, national, city-region, neighbourhood) with several organisational actors involved, enormous investments and heavy political struggles to decide which coalition of winning actors will ride the tiger of uneven development. However, when we look at those transformations through the lens of the neighbourhood what we see is the making of zones within the larger texture of its streets and squares. This zone-making is similar to leopard’s spots within a contained urban space, it works for some time in specific streets and crossroads, then moves throughout the neighbourhood, as the process of gentrification goes on. The neighbourhood, which the zone of authentic pleasure I’m describing occurs, is called Isola (Island) because of its clustered shape between a railroad on the southern border and three major roads on the others. Isola was, until the 1980s, a working-class residential space with a strong tradition of left-wing political activism, with some small manufacturing businesses and minor commercial activities. This area remained quite removed from the overall urban development that radically shifted Milan towards a service economy in the 1960s and 1970s. However, during the 1980s and 1990s, the land price impacts of private activities and public policies in surrounding neighbourhoods increasingly pushed people and activities in the direction of Isola. Alberto explains this drift through the example of his first apartment: Just look at the evolution of my apartment. I bought it [in the 1980s] for 57 million lira, I remember, then sold it in 1992 for 160, then it was sold again for 200 000 euros, then four years ago for 250 000 and you have to understand that we’re talking about 47 square metres. If you consider the last price, 250 000, I’ll tell you that when I first came to the neighbourhood you could easily buy an entire building with that money. The building at number five in this street was entirely sold for 550 millions lira—you understand now why Isola is a huge real estate investment, people like it, its central, well served by the underground—well it still has to grow from a commercial standpoint… This evolution in land prices is clear when translated into the price for square metre: 2.4 euros for square meter in 1985, 3.4 in 1992, 4.2 in 2000 and 5.3 in 2006. The ratio increase is 120% in 20 years, demonstrating both the general boost in the economy of the area and also what is at stake within uneven development. What this paper argues is that parallel to this political economy dimension, which may be called the “hard side” of gentrification, there is also a “soft side” that deserves a closer attention. Pastry shops, cafés, bars, restaurants are as strategic as real estate investments (Zukin, Landscapes 195). The spatial concept that best captures the rationale of these activities is the zone, meaning a small and localised cluster of activities. I chose to add the features of pleasure and authenticity because of the role they play in ordinary consumption practices. In order to illustrate the specific relevance of soft gentrification I will now turn to the description of the Isola crossroad, a place that has been re-created through the interventions of several actors, such as Alberto above, and also Franca and her pastry shop. A Zone of Authentic Pleasure: Franca’s Pleasure Corner We’re walking through a small residential street and arrive at a crossroad. We turn to look to the four corners, one is occupied by a public school building, the second and the third by upmarket restaurants, and the last by a “typical” Sicilian pastry shop and café. We decide to enter here, find a seat and order a coffee together with a small cassata, a cake made with sweet cheese, almonds, pistachios and candied fruit. While we are experiencing this southern Italian breakfast at some thousand miles of spatial distance from its original site, a short man enters. He’s a well renowned TV comedian, best known for his would-be-magician gags. Everybody in the café recognises him but pretends to ignore his presence, he buys some pastries and leaves. Other customers come and go. The shop owner, an Italian lady in her forties called Franca, approaches to me and declares: “as you can see for yourself, we see elegant people here.” In this kind of neighbourhood it is common to see and share space with such “elegant” and well-known people, and to feel that a pleasant atmosphere is created through this public display. Franca opened the pastry shop three years ago, a short time after the upmarket restaurants on the other corners. However, when we interviewed her she wasn’t yet satisfied with the atmosphere: “when I go downtown and come back, I feel depressed … it’s developing but still has not grown enough … Isn’t one of the classic rich places in Milan—it’s kind of a weird place.” Through these and other similar statements she expressed a feeling of delusion toward the neighbourhood—a feeling on which she’s building her tale—that emerged in contrast to the kind of environment Franca would consider more apt for her shop. Franca’s a newcomer, but knows that the neighbourhood has been “sanitised.” “It really was a criminal area” she states, using overtly derogatory terms just like they were neutral: “riffraff” for the customers of ordinary bars, “dull” for the northern part of the neighbourhood where “there even are kebab shops.” In contrast she lists her beloved customers: journalists, architects, two tenors, people working at the theatre nearby, and the local TV celebrity described earlier. When she refers to the crossroad she speaks of it as, “maybe the gem of the neighbourhood.” At some point she declares what makes her proud: A place like this regenerates the neighbourhood—to be sure, if I ever open a harbour bar I’d attract riffraff who would discredit the place. In short it’s not, to make an example, a club where you play cards, that bring in the underworld, noise, nuisance—here the customer is the typical middle class, all right people. The term “all right people” reoccurs in several of Franca’s statements. Her initial economic sacrifices, relative though if, as she says, she’s able to open another shop in a more central place (“we would like to become a chain-store”), are now compensated by the recognition she gets from her more polished clients. She also expresses a personal satisfaction in the role she has played in the changes in Isola: “until now it’s just a matter of personal satisfaction—of seeing, I’ve built this stuff.” Franca’s story demonstrates that the soft side of gentrification is also produced by individuals that have little in common with the huge capital investment that is at stake in real estate development, or the chain stores that are also opening in the neighbourhood. In one way, Franca is alone in her quest for regeneration, as most entrepreneurs are. In another way, though, she is not. Not only is she participating in the “upgrading” together with other small business owners and consumers who all agree on the direction to follow, thus building together a zone of authentic pleasure, but she can also rely on a “critical infrastructure” of architects, designers and consultants (Zukin, Landscapes 202) that knows perfectly how to do the job. With much pride in her interior design choices, Franca pointed out how her café mixes chic with classic and opposing them to a flashy and folk décor. She showed us the black-and-white pictures at the wall depicting Paris in the 1960s, the unique design coffee machine model she owns, and the flower vases conceived by a famous designer and filled by her neighbour florist. The colours chosen for the interior are orange, tied to oranges—a typical product of Sicily, whereas the brown colour relates to the land, and the gold is linked to elegance. The mixing of warm colours, Franca explained, makes the atmosphere cosy. Where did this owner get all these idea(l)s? Franca relied on an Italian interior design studio, which works at a global scale furnishing hotels, restaurants, bars, shops, bathing establishments, and airports in New York, Barcelona, Paris, and Milan. The architect with whom she dealt with let her “work together” in order to have an autonomous set of choices that match the brand’s offer. Authenticity thus becomes part of the décor in a systematic way, and the feeling of a pleasant atmosphere is constantly reproduced through the daily routines of consumption. Again, not alone in the regeneration process but feeling as if she is “on her own,” Franca struggles daily to protect the atmosphere she’s building: “My point is avoiding having kids or tramps as customers—I don’t want an indiscriminate presence, like people coming here for a glass of wine and maybe getting drunk. I mean, this is not the place to come and have a bianchino [cheap white wine]. People coming here have a spumante, and behave in a completely different fashion.” The opposition between a bianchino, the cheap white wine, and the spumante is one that clarifies the moral boundary between the targets of soft gentrification. In Italian popular culture, and especially in the past, it was a common male habit to have bianchino from late morning onwards. Bars therefore served as gendered public spaces where common people would rest from working activities and the family sphere. Franca, together with many new bars and cafes that construct zones of authentic pleasure in gentrifying neighbourhoods, is trying to update this cultural practice. The spumante adds a sparkling element to consumption and is branded as a trendy aperitif wine, which appeals to younger tastes and lifestyles. By utilising a global design studio, Franca connects to global patterns of urban development and the homogenising of local atmospheres. Furthermore, by preferencing different consumption behaviours she contributes to the social transformation of the neighbourhood by selecting customers. This tendency towards segregation, rather than mixing, is a relevant feature here, since the Franca’s favourite clientele are clearly “people like us” (Butler 2469). Zones like the one described above are thus places where uneven development shows its social, interactive and public façade. Pleasure and Authenticity in Soft Gentrification The production of “atmosphere” in a gentrifying neighbourhood goes together with customers’ taste and preferences. The supply-side of building the environmental landscape for a “pleasant” zone needs a demand-side, consumers buying, supporting, and appreciating the outcome of the activities of business people like Franca. The two are one, most of the time, because tastes and preferences are linked to class, gender, and ethnicity, which makes a sort of mutual redundancy. To put it abruptly: similar people, spending their time in the same places and in a similar way. As I have shown above, the pastry shop owner Franca went for mixing chic and classic in her interior design. That is distinctiveness and familiarity, individualisation and commonality in one unique environment. Seen from the consumer’s perspective, this leads to what has been depicted by Sharon Zukin in her account of the crisis of authenticity in New York. People, she says, are yearning for authenticity because this: reflects the separation between our experience of space and our sense of self that is so much a part of modern mentalities. Though we think authenticity refers to a neighbourhood’s innate qualities, it really expresses our own anxieties about how places change. The idea of authenticity is important because it connects our individual yearning to root ourselves in a singular time and place to a cosmic grasp or larger social forces that remake our world from many small and often invisible actions. (220) Among the “many small and invisible actions” are the ones made by Franca and the global interior design firm she hired, but also those done daily by her customers. For instance, Christian a young advertising executive who lives two blocks away from the pastry shop. He defines himself an “executive creative director” [in English, while the interview was in Italian]. Asked on cooking practices and the presentation he makes to his guests, he declares that the main effort is on: The mise en place—the mise en place with no doubt. The mise en place must be appropriate to what you’re doing. Sometimes you get the mise en place simply serving a plateau, when you correctly couple cheese and salami, even better when you couple fresh cheese with vegetables or you give a slightly creative touch with some fruit salad, like seitan with avocado, no? They become beautiful to see and the mise en place saves it, the aesthetics does its job …Do you feel there are foods, beverages or consumption occasions you consider not worth giving up at all? The only thing I wouldn’t give up is going out in the morning, and having a cappuccino down there in the tiny pastry shop and having some brioches while I’m at the bar. Those that are not frozen beforehand but cooked just in time and have a breakfast, for just two euros, two euros and ten […] cappuccino and fresh brioche, baked just then, otherwise I cannot even think—if I’m in Milan I hardly think correctly—I mean I can’t wake up really without a good cappuccino and a good brioche. Christian is one of the new residents that was attracted to this neighbourhood because of the benefits of its uneven development: relatively affordable rent prices, services, and atmosphere. Commonality is among them, but also distinctiveness. Each morning he can have his “good cappuccino and good brioche” freshly baked to suit his taste and that allows him to differentiate between other brioches, namely the industrialised ones, those “frozen beforehand.” More importantly, he can do this by simply crossing the street and entering one of the pleasure zones that are making Isola, there and now, the new gentrified Milanese neighbourhood. Zones of Authentic Pleasure In this paper I have argued that a closer attention to the softer side of gentrification can help to understand how taste and uneven development mesh together, to produce the common shape we find in gentrified neighbourhoods. These typical urban spaces are made of streets, sidewalks, squares, and walls, but also shop windows and signs, pavement cafés, planters, and the street-life that turns around all of this. Both built environment and interaction produces the atmosphere of authentic pleasure, which is offered by local entrepreneurs and sought by the people who go there. Pleasure is a central feature because of the increasing role of consumption activities in the city and the role of individual consumption practices. I f we observe closely the local scale where all of these practices take place, we can clearly distinguish one zone from another because of their localised effervescence. Neighbourhoods are not equally affected by gentrification. Internally specific zones emerge as those having the capacity to subsume the entire process. These are the ones I have described in this paper—zones of authentic pleasure, where the supply and demand for an authentic distinctive and communal atmosphere takes place. Ephemeral spaces; if one looks at the political economy of place through a macro lens. But if the aim is to understand why certain zones prove to be successful and others not, then exploring how soft gentrification is daily produced and consumed is fundamental.Acknowledgments This article draws on data produced by the research team for the CSS project ‘Middle Class and Consumption: Boundaries, Standards and Discourses’. The team comprised Marco Santoro, Roberta Sassatelli and Giovanni Semi (Coordinators), Davide Caselli, Federica Davolio, Paolo Magaudda, Chiara Marchetti, Federico Montanari and Francesca Pozzi (Research Fellows). The ethnographic data on Milan were mainly produced by Davide Caselli and by the Author. The author wishes to thank the anonymous referees for wise and kind remarks and Michelle Hall for editing and suggestions. References Atkinson, Rowland. “Domestication by Cappuccino or a Revenge on Urban Space? 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