The crisis, with its extended stays at home, is leading to the fact that long periods of lying still are being tackled. So today a commentary on the "Third Man" of Caron, or, because that's how you can translate the label to the "Third Man of Caron"! Because this has been one of my absolute favourite fragrances for a long time, but nevertheless it has always remained a statement (the same applies to Bal d'Afrique, by the way; but maybe it will be next...).
Why no long version so far? Probably also because this scent is hard to grasp and difficult to describe. If one reads through the comments and statements, everyone seems to perceive it differently. This is not an industrial accident, because this Caron opens up large open spaces and interpretation areas. It's not based on a cliché, it stands for itself (that's the great perfume-making art) and it really has a very mysterious, open, undefined aura (that's the great perfume-making art).
Le 3e homme was published exactly in the middle of the 80s. It is anything but one of the typical powerhouse fragrances, no Magnum (and by that I don't mean ice cream), no green fougère spice monsters, nothing of aftershave, nothing of uninhibited masculinity. And yet this fragrance radiates an 80s aura, one of finest synthesizer artificiality and above all androgyny. This is Boy George with "Do you really want to hurt me", David Bowie with "China Girl" and, coming from the other side of the gender spectrum, Kim Wilde with "You keep me hanging on"; all songs that have been released in close temporal proximity to "The Third Man". Thus he is not superficially sexy or sensual; however, he has his very own eroticism of a mysterious aloofness, a brightly illuminated plastic world, a very physical incorporeality
If I could try a classic description of the fragrance: Despite the citrus triad, which appears hyperclassic on paper, this fragrance has no top note at all, and certainly none of carefree, free-floating citrus freshness. These notes may be present somewhere, but are compactly built into the machine. In a way, the same applies to the base. The heart, however, can be identified, and I recognize it today (unlike at the time of my statement) as classically dual: This is a lavender-clove fragrance, just as "Pour un homme" is a lavender-vanilla fragrance. When you smell good, you smell lavender and clove very good, and yet (that's why it's a work of art) it doesn't smell like lavender water or Old Spice, but rather very different and unique. "Le 3e homme" is for me very, very bright; friendly, but also very mysterious (like a good alien), distinguished, crystalline, a little unreal-dreamy, but at the same time wide awake.
For the name, as for the fragrance itself, there are 9 points. It is supposed to allude to the fact that this was the third men's fragrance by Caron (very likeable, only 3 men's fragrances within 50 years!), as well as to a (of course, superficially seen, completely wrong, and therefore also ingeniously right, because the fact that nothing opens and "is right" characterizes this fragrance again) trail to the film "The Third Man"
With this Caron, many, if not all, of the scents are right for me, which is why it is one of my most worn scents: The actual scent is fantastic, but also the durability and projection are very, very remarkable (without being brutal and obtrusive). By the way, the price is right (under 100 Euro for 125 ml) as well.
If I have hesitated for so long, it is not only because this fragrance is so difficult to describe, but also because it is already so excellently commented. Because there are already many great reviews of the third man, but I want to highlight one of them. I joined here so late that I didn't manage to subscribe to Seelanne anymore. He wrote his last comment here about 3 years ago, before he unfortunately fell silent on Parfumo, and that was his comment on this fragrance. This comment is really excellent, much better than mine, and I highly recommend it for additional reading. It was inevitable for me to repeat some of it (I hope it's not plagiarism, but simply the same feeling).