Best supporting

A train of soft pink satin brushes against the crimson plush of the carpet, but nobody can hear its whisper. Instead, they notice the flashes of camera bulbs and the shouts of voices sending the dress its fan mail. "Classic Valentino," they echo. "She wears it so well. Maybe we'll see that dress again for an acceptance speech."

I have been one of the devoted viewers who join in the chorus of Oscar praises each winter for as long as I can remember. When I was little, I'd try to get my parents to let me stay up to watch the event; one year, one of the comedy sketches featured Miss Piggy, who was my absolute hero at the time, and I laughed loudly at her pouting pink face.

When I got older, the Oscars became something more serious and personal. Toward the end of middle school, I started watching the Oscar-nominated movies with my mom, and the Oscar trail became an annual bonding experience for us. The three-screen movie theater in the small town where I grew up rarely played any of the major contenders, so my mother and I had to venture 50 miles to the nearest multiplex, and the drive home gave us a chance to analyze the films together.

My freshman year in high school, my mom and I watched "The Hours" together, and we spent the entire ride home — and much of the next week — talking about the acting, the literature and the meaning behind the film. At first, I thought we'd never be able to replicate the depth of that conversation. But over the next four years, Hollywood proved me wrong over and over again, as it gave my mom and me more challenging topics for discussion.

If the month preceding Oscar night was a time for us to tackle intellectual and emotional challenges together, the night itself was pure indulgence. We'd talk about the dresses, the speeches and the winners. We'd use our voices to send that pink satin its fan mail.

This is the first year that I've had to embark on my Oscar journey by myself, separated from my mother by hundreds of miles. I was worried that after watching the movies with my college friends, I wouldn't be able to talk to my mother about them and discuss their merits. But my mom and I wouldn't let our Oscar season get ruined. Instead, we found ways to watch the same movies, even if we didn't watch them on the same day, and called each other to talk them over.

Now, as Oscar night approaches, my mother and I are equally excited. I haven't seen as many of the nominated films as I'd like to have — college sucks up my time — but we both still have opinions about who we'd like to see as the winners, and neither of us can wait to see if the Academy agrees. This time, when that Valentino dress shows up on its fabulously famous wearer, my mother and I will send it our praises together again ... over the phone.