Burning Leaves (2005)
by CB I Hate Perfume

So faithful that I got the memory of a place I stayed before recognizing the smell as burning leaves - I didn't register at the time that that was what I was smelling there, this made me realise.

22nd August, 2011.

This smells a lot like burning leaves to me. Now I am just trying to figure out if I want to smell like burning leaves. Could possibly work as an autumn scent? Still, a thumbs up for the name matching the scent, and for something different and fun.

24th June, 2011.

This smells like maple, and like burning, but not like burning leaves. It's more like artificial smoke flavor and maple syrup.

2nd June, 2011.

The perfume of maple leaves ablaze – sweetly toothsome, like the pan-stickings of caramelized root vegetables – and also bringing us one grateful step closer to a fantasy product originally envisaged by William Burroughs in his 'Naked Lunch':

"My dear, I'm working on the most marvellous invention... a boy who disappears as soon as you come, leaving a smell of burning leaves and a sound effect of distant train whistles."

When Burning Leaves is laid upon the damp forest floor of CB I Hate Perfume Black March, it evokes an Autumn evening the likes of which might make you swoon. It does me.

1st January, 2011.

Just as advertised! Nostalgia in a bottle!

This is the smell of burning leaves in autumn, and it's delightful. A quiet scent that stays close to the skin, as if I'd just been burning leaves and a bit of the smoke is still clinging to my clothing. I'm especially pleased that this smells nothing at all like cigarette smoke.

The very definition of a comfort scent, Burning Leaves brings back a flood of childhood memories. It makes me smile. (This review is based on the water perfume version of Burning Leaves. I have not smelled the absolute.)

11th December, 2009.

foetidus's description of "maple smoked bacon without the bacon" is right on. In a way, it's almost like "burning leaves without the burning," too -- the smoke really isn't the primary note here. It's more the scent of the leaf pile and the rich, decaying autumnal soil, with a neighbor down the street doing the actual burning. The sweet quality of the smoke is more characteristic of a smoked meat than an actual bonfire.

If I didn't know this fragrance was called Burning Leaves, I would have guessed it was called Wound Care. The most powerful note for me is not burning leaves but antibacterial ointment. You can also smell, quite clearly, the plasticky odor of Band-Aids and perhaps just a hint of benzoin to help the bandages adhere to skin.

Although this is a pleasant fragrance, I have a hard time associating it as a scent for a person. It's a bit too sweet for a room spray as well.

28th October, 2009.