In the year of the (fake) snake

Some women enjoy the attention they draw by wearing snakeskin-printed clothing. Snakeskin's impact is greatest when it's coupled with the female silhouette because there's a primal connection between women and snakes -- a connection deeper even than the snake myth involving the Garden of Eden in Judeo-Christian theology.

Judy Grahn, a cultural historian and artist, writes in her book "Blood, Bread and Roses" about the primal link between women, snakes and menstruation. Grahn believes that our ancient ancestors selected the snake as the primal totem for women because it shared the human female's ability to shed. "The snake has been associated with menstruation through the shedding of its skin," Grahn writes, "a metamorphosis long connected to spiritual rebirth and the transformation of the soul -- a lunar connection."

Almost every pre-modern culture revered a snakelike deity, which was often characterized as a disembodied vagina. Victorian archaeologists felt safer identifying similar deities as primitive cultures' conception of their "original mother of the world." Snake cults abounded in prehistoric Eastern Europe, while Hawaiians worshiped a snake-shaped goddess called Humea. The Aztec creation goddess was a snake, as was Greek earth goddess Gaea. And according to Aboriginal culture in Australia, the Rainbow Serpent plays a crucial role in the creation of the world and all subsequent rainstorms.

The link between snakes and female sexuality continues through the ages, from Medusa and her snaky coif to Cleopatra and her accessorized asp. Eventually, according to feminist anthropologists like Marija Gimbutas, the sacred aspects of snakes were leached from cultural memory and the creatures became a pop culture metaphor for the sneaky behavior exhibited by femmes fatales. Film noir and horror films like "Attack of the Cobra Woman" use this sexually suggestive yet misogynistic stereotype to juice up staid story lines. Current films continue the trend. In the upcoming remake of "Bedazzled," Elizabeth Hurley, who plays the devil, not only wears a python-print bikini in the film's climax but also has a live python draped over her shoulders in promotional posters.

Still, Western culture has often equated snakes with sexuality as manifested by the penis, not female genitalia. Dozens of blues songs refer to a slippery snake as a metaphor for male sexuality. Blind Lemon Jefferson's 1926 recording "Black Snake Moan" is an early example; almost 70 years later, P.J. Harvey included a version of the song on her 1995 album "To Bring You My Love."

At one time, unspoken cultural assumptions about leather and sexuality resulted in society's branding women who wore leather -- including snakeskin -- as "fast" or "bad." Nice women just didn't wear leather. Today, practitioners of earth-based religions like Wicca are reclaiming old negative stereotypes, like the snake, and elevating them to symbols of power. These symbols have been absorbed by mainstream culture in the most surprising ways. It's no longer uncommon to see conventional stores carrying rings and necklaces bearing pagan symbols such as pentagrams, as well as little statues of snake-entwined female deities.

How far-fetched is it, then, for young women, familiar with pagan traditions, to revere the goddess in the form of a snake-wielding statue and a snakeskin-print skirt? I like to think that feminist ideas about female power have infiltrated mainstream culture to such a degree that women now feel comfortable enough in their own skins to wear clothing made of fabrics or textures that were once shunned for being unfeminine or depraved.

Noted herpetologist Harry Greene thinks the positive attention focused on fabrics with snakeskin patterns is great. Greene is a professor of ecology and evolutionary biology at Cornell University and author of the book "Snakes: The Evolution of Mystery in Nature." During a phone interview from his office in Ithaca, N.Y., he says, "Isn't it interesting that snakes have developed a pattern [on their skin] not for beauty, but to blend in with the environment, to harmonize with the background [as a natural survival mechanism]? I wonder if there's a link between the color pattern that attracts us and nature's ability to arrange the pattern of snake scales to mimic patterns in the environment in a harmonious way." Ironically, some women now wear snakeskin to attract attention, while snakes developed their beautiful patterns to escape detection in the wild.

Still, it seems twisted that the only way we can enjoy it is if the pattern is divorced from the actual skin. How can we truly enjoy the natural world if we're only capable of experiencing it at a distance?

Most people would argue that clothing printed with snakeskin patterns is popular because it's fun and trendy. But certainly most women are unconscious of why they respond favorably to the print. Despite my personal distaste for wearing snakeskin, I can guess why it's popular with trendsetters. What's a better fashion mascot than a creature with the ability to change its skin?

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