Swag, simply, is free stuff. Good free stuff, like the loot bags from the birthday parties of our youth, and for what ever reason, it's getting a lot of its own press. Already reports of the goodies set for give away at this years Sundance Film Festival are trickling in.

I had my first run in with swag during fashion week last fall, when my sister, whose desk job in the fashion industry earned her tickets to the sacred event, brought home a bag of the newest line of Revlon make up. The gentleman sitting next to her obviously had no use for it and passed the loot along. I, however, loved the stuff if only for the novelty. More recently, my internship at a fashion magazine allowed me to attend a PR event for a major sunscreen company. For just one hour of my time, I was rewarded with seven bottles of sunscreen. Chances are slim that my thoughts on the products will end up in print, and it could be said that the company spokespersons words fell on deaf ears, but at least I walked away with my hands full. Wasn’t that the whole fun in going?

A minor sin though compared to the gift showers at Sundance, where the swag is legendary, getting almost as much exposure as the films the event is intended to promote. Each year, at least a few fashion magazines and style sections of newspapers devote whole spreads to the stuff.

Part of the allure of swag is in the hierarchy in which it is distributed. Columnist Chris Parry wrote two articles on swag on hollywoodbitchslap.com. In one, he writes on the levels of access at the festival.

The fourth level are the beautiful people – the celebrities, filmmakers, producers, and actors – who are invited to every party, get tickets to any screening they want, go from sponsor to sponsor filling up on free products (commonly referred to as swag) and then hightail it outta here as soon as their picture has made its way to print. The beautiful people don’t know how good they have it. But we do, because over the last few days, we’ve been living la vida loca.

This hierarchy is why peons like me get the sunscreen and the cosmetics while celebrities walk away with iPods, expensive clothing and shoes, and cell phones- you know, stuff they probably already own tons of and can afford to buy on their own anyway.

Some of those insiders, thankfully, are seeing though the ridiculousness of swag.

Anthony Kaufman, a writer for indiewire.com, has vented both this year and last about what he calls the "swagfest" of Sundance

Crass commercialism is a way of American life, but nowhere is the situation more egregious than the run-up to the Sundance Film Festival. Fortunately, during the fest, I manage to avoid the spas, celebrities, and this-or-that give-away, as I'm tucked away in dark screening rooms 16 hours of every day.

For the film festival last year he wrote:

Perhaps, between screenings, I'll pick up a coffee at the Yahoo! Cafe, and grab a drink at the Heineken Green Room, then take a rest on one of those La-Z-Boy chairs or on the InterfaceFLORnd custom carpets, followed by an aperitif at the Crown Royal's Sippin' at Sunset happy hour before getting a bite to eat at the Lean Cuisine food bar.

Whatever role free stuff plays in the lives of events like Sundance is ultimately up to those who know how to hawk it, use it, and show it off. What’s really troubling, however, is not the reason for which the useless stuff is distributed, but that a film festival that was created to showcase the best in independent film, is almost more famously known for something called swag.