KEY POINTS:
Growing up, the last week of the summer holidays was always one of my favourites. Not because I had a burning desire to return to school, or because I was sick of the poolside monotony, (oh, how I dream of such tedium now... ) but because it was the most glamorous night of the year - the Golden Globes.
Yes, the Oscars may be the only awards worth winning, but I never got to watch those, thanks to the strict enforcement of "prep time" at boarding school.
Likewise, the Baftas, the SAGs and the growing compendium of ceremonies that now plague the E! channel, completely passed me by.
By default, the Golden Globes was the night of nights.
My friends and I would gather for an awards night sleepover, camped out in the lounge in our most glamorous jim jams, waiting eagerly to see who would win, what they would say, and - most importantly - what they would wear.
To this day, I can't recall a single best picture winner, but I remember Angelina Jolie in a sparkling silver sequinned halter dress. Actually, I don't think I knew she was Angelina then, she was just a vampy actress in an amazing frock.
Similarly, I have no idea why Courtney Love was at the Globes or who foolishly let her on stage but I'll never forget her black shredded gown, which threatened to expose her with every breath.
These were the days before Sky Digital and 24-hour entertainment channels. Before blogs and YouTube catalogued every event attended and outfit worn by a celebrity.
It was a time when award ceremonies were a scarce commodity, and as such, were worthy of prime time viewing on major, free-to-air networks.
Of course, I make it sound as if it was a lifetime ago. It was in fact only a decade. But during that time, celebrity culture has become so ingrained in our daily lives - through television, the internet and tabloid magazines - that stars have lost that original magic and mystique that made them so potent.
Discussing the Globes - and the coming award season - in the office this week, a colleague recalled the excitement they felt, watching the camera swoop around the theatre, capturing the illustrious audience before focusing on a young, glamorous Julia Roberts.
It's hard to imagine anyone being dazzled by Miss Roberts these days, having seen her moccasin-clad and makeup free, pushing a trolley around a suburban supermarket with her children in tow.
Still, the Globes remain my favourite ceremony. For one, they promise a modicum of surprise as the first awards of the season. By the time the Oscars roll around next month, the results aren't so much an announcement as a recitation. And about as interesting as sitting through school prizegiving.
The Globes also include television in their ranks, which, to be honest, I'm more likely to have seen than the latest "worthy" film. I'm sure Kate Winslet is exceptional in the war crimes drama The Reader, but it's not exactly the light escapism one's looking for after a long week at work.
It also means there's twice as many stars on show, which helps counterbalance celebrities' dwindling star power and presence.
Plus, there's twice as many frocks. Which let's face it, is all anyone ever remembers anyway.
