Tilia Cordata Acca Kappa 2014

Linden blossoms have fascinated me since childhood; there were several trees in a playground, and as a hunter and gatherer, it must have been in my blood from a very young age: I collected the blossoms and my mother made a tea that I still remember to this day.
It's no wonder that I am interested in linden scents. During the GDR era, I once had an expensive linden blossom shampoo, so pricey that I used it sparingly. Back then, a perfume like this would have been unthinkable.
Now I have the choice, and here comes a ladder of the candidates I have tested so far: "Zeta" - not bad, but more promotion than result; I was a bit annoyed by the sweetness, which I am not generally averse to in fragrances, but this sweetness flattened what I like about certain blossoms: the almost overwhelming opulence at the edge of tolerability, mercilessly subdued.
"Tilieul" appealed to me much more, more noble, more thought-out.
And now the current Olympian. Here is THE linden blossom that comes closest to my linden blossom - authentic, yet not quite. And that’s the trick. The numbing potency has been slightly toned down, just minimally; I would describe it with a delicate green "frost" note. The top note as described here: Forget it! Immediately the linden comes, already for me indefinably citrusy, but immediately linden, linden, linden. There’s still magnolia: And that could be, similar to the tulip, it has a somewhat delicately blunt demeanor, naturally aromatic, lovely without slipping into direct cuteness. Again, a mosaic piece, very harmonious. Slowly, the fragrance gains floral momentum, more jasmine than rose.
It becomes silkier, gentler, and glides further into the woody, tonka-supported base, where the linden blossoms gradually transition into a gray-green spherical form.
However, my Olympian gets a few deductions for the sillage note: The sillage is in the medium range, which I find acceptable; the skin proximity fits. The longevity could certainly be longer.
Nevertheless: Here I am reminded of the joke where a man is looking at flowers in a shop and asks the saleswoman: Are they artificial or natural? - To which she replies: "Naturally artificial!" - Naturally artificial means here: Quite artful.