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Most of us are aware of the Biblical account of Adam and Eve, cloistered in their paradise of bliss, a story that is older than dirt, since if you remember from your early Sunday school lessons was clearly already there. Eve, while walking through the garden on fine day encounters the slick serpent who has the power of speech. After a bit of useless debating and without too much urging he tell her to eat of the forbidden fruit. Obviously being hungry and feelig a bit naughty she obliges. Feeling thus empowered she takes it to her sappy husband, "where did you get that Harry Winston?" he ask in astonishment. She smiles sweetly and offers him a sip of the Kool Aid, which having been bewitched by her boldness, he takes.
When God in his omniscience knows what his two wayward kids have been up to, comes to them and demands an explantion. Adam, ever so chivalrously throws his wife under the bus and declares, "She did, that deceitful vixen you made for me. The woman then points towards the serpent and declares, "It is his fault, I believed his slitherly tongue". To which the serpent pleads, nolo contendre, he was not going to let this come back and bite him in his scaly ass.
Which of course leads to the immediate destruction of their Platinum cards, membership in Club Eden is revoked and they will forever dwell in the land of the Walmart shoppers. Which also gave Milton some juicy material for his interpretation of poetic justice.
So is the beginning of the first femme fatale, to be followed in history by more fledglings of sexpotdom which segues into the enumerable odes to their charms. There have been more stories of their escapades, plays that paid them homage, sonnets written and sung, wars have been fought and history has been changed, put on pedestals of desire than no man can resist. Artists have tried to capture and immortalize their essences.
Those who have walked those hallowed halls of the femme fatale, Helen of Troy, who helped us learn so much about the ancient Trojans and perhaps that we should look a gift horse in the mouth. Scheherazade, whose stories of adventure and intrique captivated a king for 1,000 nights of climatic bliss. Cleopatra, cunning and shrewd and highly exotic, loved what she did with that kohl. Ah yes and the little Lolita, the consummate vamp in training.
One thing of note about all of these women, they had a rebel's heart. A desire to break free from the norms and conventions of their time. From the late great doyen herself, Mae West, "Goodness has nothing to do with it, dearie".
"She was the temptress who had ensared the first man and who still will continue her work at damnation; she was the being who is feeble, dangerous, mysteriously troubling. And even more than her body of perdition, he hated her soul." ~ Guy de Maupassant (did he now?)
