Korrigan

I have been meaning to review this perfume for ages, but I kept putting it off because I find myself really struggling to describe it. It's buttery and nutty (I actually looked for chestnut or roasted hazelnut in the notes and I still can't believe neither are listed, maybe this effect comes from the interaction of vetiver and the other notes), initially wrapped in a thin layer of smoke that quickly dissipates. Rather than caramel, I smell the idea of caramel, if that makes sense. It's a mix of milky-sweet and salty that isn't caramel, but that is guaranteed to bring up caramel in the mind of anyone who smells this. That salty edge, by the way, is what makes this perfume truly special in my opinion: it helps it blend into my skin, to the point that it sometimes becomes hard to tell where my natural scent ends and where this perfume begins. The leather takes a while to come out, but when it does, it gives this blend allure and poise - and it started unfolding exactly at the moment where I was beginning to tire of the sweetness of the opening and wanted something different to happen. I experienced a tiny moment of dread during the evolution of this perfume, when the mix of leather, sweetness and nuts started to give out a strange smell that reminded me of Play-Doh, but then, like clockwork, the cognac and whiskey kicked in and the Play-Doh smell immediately faded away. By that point, Korrigan managed the incredible feat of smelling both sexy as hell and really comfortable and natural - what it makes me think of is that annoyingly sexy person we all know who doesn't even have to try, and who is probably sexy precisely because they don't try. Korrigan, at that stage, is self-confident and down-to-earth without being obnoxious or boring. The animalic notes that come out as the perfume begins to fade accentuate the dirty, sexy characteristics of the perfume and create a scent that's not entirely unlike the smell of warm, somewhat sweaty skin (but in the nicest possible way). Saffron made a quick apparition around the end, but to be perfectly honest, I might not have realised it was there had I not read the notes beforehand. The woods and juniper are very soft, almost indetectable, but they stay in the background for the whole duration of this perfume's evolution, and their austerity and dryness work as a perfect counterpoint to what would otherwise be a rather cloying (and frankly, pretty boring) cocktail of notes. The juniper, in particular, brings an interesting tinge of herbal bitterness that I had never smelt in that kind of perfume before, but the association just makes so much sense to me now. In fact, this whole perfume could be summed up as such: it plays on the obvious to create something entirely unexpected. I strongly urge anyone to whom the notes appeal, even vaguely, to give this a try. It's utterly worth it.

I am always really impressed when a fragrance delivers an experience that can't really be compared to anything else out there, and Korrigan is definitely one of those cases, if I had to describe it in 3 words it would be 'cream of incense'. Spraying Korrigan for the first time I got a bizarre abstract take on booze, along the lines of whiskey vapors, woody and slightly smoky, but light and ethereal. The opening was surprisingly devoid of sparkly top notes and I initially found it quite stark. Just as I was about to dismiss it, the intensity of the smokiness toned down and a buttery musky sweetness appeared, not syrupy or vanillic at all, rather a fatty sweet note, first like cream liquor and later like sweetened almond butter or even roasted marshmallow. What is really remarkable that there is no vanilla or powder to it, but rather it appears that the right combination of sandalwood compounds, ambrette musk and perhaps other lactonic notes are responsible for the addictive sweet cream accord. Regardless of the butteriness, this is not a pure gourmand by any means, your brain still clearly registers this as a predominantly smoky woody scent. Beautiful composition, smells modern yet completely different, surprisingly light and radiant for how rich it feels. However it still sits within the realm of likeable meaning it is safe to wear as an all-round nighttime fragrance and unlike other sweeter wood scents alla Initio it does not produce a monstrous gag-inducing sillage, which for me is another positive.

Wow, this is another LUBIN I'm falling in love with. As usual with this brand, the quality of the product is paramount, it's quite expensive, but it's worth it. The KORRIGAN-AKKAD-GALAAD triptych is a great success, in my opinion. Before I tried KORRIGAN I thought that AKKAD must be the best of them, because it's a masterpiece, it's just flawless, perfect! However, KORRIGAN is just as amazing as the amber-resin goodness of AKKAD is, but its character is different. KORRIGAN starts with a fresh aromatic blast of juniper, and right after that starts the magic. Something creamy, like Irish cream liqueur, kicks in, and it is not just sweet and milky, it also has a salty, gourmet edge, like slightly salty caramel, or like your own clean skin when you are inhaling the fresh and salty sea air, and a glass of White Russian is in your hand. I guess the salty feel is here due to the ambrette. It all might sound strange (salty??), but in reality it smells so natural and appealing, and refined. The leather note is very delicate in KORRIGAN, as well as oud (feels like a touch of smokiness). This is probably the most unusual gourmand I have ever tried, it's difficult to describe. I think it's unisex, almost definitely.

If I ever was to wear a fragrance out of sheer nostalgia or joy it would be Korrigan. Here the legend gathers booze (whisky, cognac), lavender, leather and musk. On top an ample Juniper note sets off the scene. Immediately a buttery shampoo accord paired with liquor dances in like a spinning delight in the thin air. At the center, a lavish lavender touch so fresh and uplifting compels the scent to radiate with rakish elegance. Finally, thanks to divine providence, sumptuous dry woods flesh out the path to grand manner. The notes become flamboyant players in their own stages supporting a fragrance that is at once smaller and larger from its parts. Sometimes from this fusion an image of perfect beauty will emerge like cypress trees whistling in the calm summer wind. Such a smell is so inexplicable and irreproducible that all the heart can do is suffer with gratitude. Korrigan was made for Lubin (a brand revealing great depth and integrity) by Thomas Fontaine in the height of his powers. It feels like a scent made by a hustler on the make, composing a heedless perfume. To me it is like a fragrance conjuring memories of memories working its magic with hypnotic fashion.

I found Korrigan when I was looking for a substitute for Bond No. 9's brooklyn. I loved the juniper and leather hints in Bond but wanted something a tiny bit more unusual. After going to MiN I was given samples of Heeley's Cuir Pleine Fleure, Keiko Mecheri's Cuir Cordoba, and Lubin's Gin Fizz. Pleine Fleure was too heavy on the patchouli for my taste, while Cuir Cordoba devolved into something like baby powder. Gin Fizz is nice and bubbly but dissipated almost instantly. Korrigan, though... Korrigan is special. The opening is atrocious. It reminds me of burning tires and the smell of... well, diarrhea. Those twenty minutes of acrid are almost impossible to get through... but then Korrigan turns into something that is, quite frankly, stunning. Warm, leather, wood, salty caramel without being too saccharine and with just the slightest hint of smokiness. I spray it on after I shower at night so that I can spare the general public that opening hell. By the time I wake up it is perfectly mellowed. It has excellent longevity and decent sillage. After about six hours of wear you can still smell it about half a foot off the skin. Amazing,