If I must have a fragrance that isn't flawless in its entirety, then I'll choose one whose weak section is the top notes: at least they fade away fairly rapidly. So I'm willing to ignore the first few minutes of Stecca's existence, which feature a sharp, almost overwhelming synthetic assault reminiscent of the glue used in model making.
After the chemical onslaught, proceedings become decidedly more natural-smelling. A mintiness emerges, followed by an edgy, green tartness, a piercing ginger and a deep earthiness. Before you know it, you're wearing a tomato on your skin, and not just the fruit, but the sap from the vines as well. It's an odd sensation, mainly because it isn't at all unpleasant. In fact, it feels much more refreshing and comfortable than spraying oneself with most of the so-called summer scents that invade department stores with depressing regularity every year.
I haven't been to a fancy dress party for over two decades, but if I do ever go to one again, it shall be as a giant tomato, and I will complete the ensemble by spraying myself with this amusing little number.
[Review based on a sample of eau de parfum provided by Scent & Sensibility in 2011; fragrance tested on skin.]