KORRIGAN
by LUBIN
ingredients: lavender, leather, cognac
Like some sedentary merchant at the receiving end of the Silk Road watching the caravans unpack, the perfume critic has to sift through hundreds of gewgaws of mixed provenance looking for treasure. Very occasionally it feels as if a new, previously unknown region has been opened to trade, whose existence is only revealed through a handful of mysterious but clearly related artifacts, and the odd tall tale.
Korrigan is the fourth fragrance that I feel must come from some landlocked mountain kingdom, by turns pious and festive; a Shangri-La where the Council of State is by tradition made up of French perfumers in their early fifties: Mark Buxton, Bertrand Duchaufour, Annick Ménardo and now Thomas Fontaine. The first we heard of this place of legend is via Comme des Garçons 2 [1999] and Timbuktu [2004], followed by Le Labo’s Patchouli 24 [2006]. What they all have in common is an atmosphere at once austere and mouthwatering, somewhere between incense and gingerbread, the product of a bakery staffed by seraphs.
The idea itself is not completely new: witness Chanel’s magnificent Bois des Iles and Guerlain’s slightly messier but still delicious Vol de Nuit. What is new, however, is the mood of starry-night clarity that modern materials and structures make possible. Korrigan is perhaps the most edible of the lot and may be a bit too sweet and buttery for some. I, for one, fell in love with it instantly when I smelled it for the first time at Luckyscent in Los Angeles. The sales attendant gave me the smelling strip with a look that dared me not to find it wonderful. No need to threaten me, young lady. Lubin, once great then forgotten, has risen from its ashes of late. This, I feel, is its finest fragrance to date and a classic for the ages.
sweet incense
