SWINTON

Look at that marvel of a coif. It looks like a pastry. A delicious, buttery pastry that probably has some of that creamy cheese inside that is one hundred percent artificial in composition. And that color is amazing on her. Forget breaking up a wedding. She should show up with a tiny pistol embedded in her handbag and shoot the minister who impregnated her long ago with a love child. It is soap opera at its finest. Soap opera and snacks.

SWINTON

Seeing her in that periwinkle color makes this so depressing to me. SWINTON. Don't wash yourself out. Be dry-clean only. Does that even mean anything? It does now.

SWINTON

This is better than all-white. Now she looks kind of like a groovy lady minister of a very laid-back church that doesn't really have any BELIEFS, or RULES, per se, except that you shouldn't shank each other and it's wrong to gank handicapped parking spots. I would confess my sins to this person, and she'd probably listen patiently, then tell me, "Eh, sin, shmin. Just don't do it again."

Golden Globes Well Played Carpet/SWINTONly Played Other Carpets: SWINTON

It seems only fitting that our first post in what will be exhaustive/ing Globes coverage is the High Priestess of Fabufuggery. Personally, I unironically and unabashedly love the hell out of this dramatic suit -- I want her to wear it to a wedding at which her salacious affair with the groom will be revealed, or to a press conference where it's revealed she is David Bowie's sister -- but the other stuff she trotted out this weekend was more SWINTONIAN in its boxy starkness, the kind of thing we either love without reason or dislike with great affection. Join hands as we plunge into the SWINTON vortex. [Photos: Getty]