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Even if the cancellation of the Golden Globes and its satellite parties had been precipitated by nuclear, rather than labor, Armageddon, you could be sure that a radioactive, iridescent army of swag suite staffers would still be roaming the smoldering Hollywood hellscape, distributing designer jeans, sunglasses, and coupons redeemable for full-body laser-resurfacing procedures to any semi-recognizable survivors of the blast. Though gifting professionals initially feared that the sober climate of this crippled awards season might dissuade people from turning out to collect their frivolous wares, they soon realized that the siren call of free shit would be far too seductive to ignore:

"We were afraid no one was going to show up ... and we almost backed out, but it really paid off," said Cindy Lott, who was touting Xtreme Lashes eyelash extensions at another event in Beverly Hills. "There were more RSVPs because people aren't at their stylists."

"I knew the actors would still be supporting the gifting," said Susan Setz, who was showing her Wild Rose Tattoo Shirts at a gift suite in Brentwood, a neighborhood known for its high celeb quotient. "I looked at it as a wonderful opportunity." [...]

Like awards shows, gifting is a Hollywood tradition. Maybe the Golden Globe suites are proof the industry hasn't entirely shut down.

"Stars want to come and celebrate," said vendor Niels Christiansen. "They support the writers, but they still want to have fun."

Fortunately, the Guild has been silent about the continuing operation of the suites, as there could be no greater solidarity-undermining misstep than to interfere with their high-profile brethren in SAG's God-given right to collect as much freely proffered crap as their assistants can carry—there are, after all, only so many life-altering sacrifices one can be asked to make even in the name of a just cause.

[Photo: AP]