I got this message on YouTube from someone called BlackWid0w:
"I have been wearing Le 3ème Homme de Caron (The Third Man) and absolutely loving it. I guess it a man's fragrance, but I love it on my skin (am female). I first read about it on your blog, so thanks for turning me on to it."
The thing is, Dan, you were the one who turned her on to it, extolling its charms in a blog post a year ago, while I've let the decant you sent me languish. Until now. Inspired by BlackWid0w, I'm wearing The Third Man right this moment and enjoying it greatly.
But The Third Man blurs the dreaded medicinal lavender with fantastically smooth and glorious jasmine, joined seamlessly by faint anise and vanilla, as well as spicy carnation. The splendid, eternal drydown glows with a mossy musk echo of all that's gone before. Je dig.
That's nice. The Third Man is rich and sweet, and I can imagine any woman feeling comfortable wearing it. Those classic old mainstream masculines were somehow more feminine than the grim, bare-boned modern ones.
It's ironic that the men wearing the old stuff were inherently more masculine than the modern male who's always fretting about not crossing any gender lines. Though maybe it's not ironic, maybe the modern male frets specifically because he recognizes he's not nearly as butch as his father was, and so he relies on superficial masculine trappings to keep him squarely on the boys' side.
It's funny how often our perfume discussions veer into amateur sociological deliberations. Anyway, yay for BlackWid0w, I'm sure she smells great. I just hope she doesn't have one of those fretting modern men in her life who's suddenly freaked out because he's excited by a male cologne. Oh, the complexity of contemporary life.
Simplicity pattern via