Korrigan

Korrigan reads like a Celtic myth told through spirits and smoke—Thomas Fontaine's 2012 creation for Lubin captures something genuinely untamed despite its gourmand classification. The cognac-saffron marriage in the opening is less about sweetness and more about volatile warmth, that heady moment when alcohol vapours meet resinous spice. There's an almost medicinal quality to how the juniper berries cut through, gin-like and botanical, preventing this from sliding into cloying territory. The whisky note in the heart isn't the peaty Islay sort but something mellower, perhaps Speyside-adjacent, whilst the ambrette seeds add their peculiar musky-floral texture that smells simultaneously of skin and petals. Lavender threads through with a fougère-esque aromatic quality, though here it feels less barbershop and more like lavender sprigs drying in a distillery. The leather base isn't the birch tar sort or the suede sort—it's something worn and booze-soaked, a jacket that's spent too many evenings in wood-panelled drinking establishments. Cedar and vetiver provide the skeletal structure whilst oud lurks rather than dominates, offering shadow rather than starring role. This is for those who find most leather fragrances too clean, too predictable. It's for late nights when respectability has left the room but refinement remains. The wearer understands that sophistication and slight dissolution aren't mutually exclusive.