Route 66 Coty 1997 Eau de Toilette

It was once again one of those vintage blind buys from the online marketplace, due to the current situation since unfortunately there are no flea markets at the moment.

A scent directly from Coty, there were many good classics, so let's give it a try.

I smell the fragrance for the first time and must say: it grabs you from the very beginning.

It has charm, sophistication, masculinity, and a rich variety of fragrance notes.
Wow. What a composition.

Now I understand why it is considered a good, unfortunately discontinued classic.

The Route 66 tin cans are being traded at decent prices.

A citrusy (slightly) sweet-fruity (pineapple) start is followed by a heart characterized by oak moss and herbal accents, finally transitioning into a spicy woody base. Patchouli and tobacco paired with woods do their part here and give the fragrance its masculinity.

This initially fruity scent mixed with the mossy-herbaceous, along with spicy wood, patchouli, and tobacco creates a unique fragrance.

Masculine, but by no means old-fashioned.

You have to smell it to understand it.

Welcome to my collection Route 66 by Coty!

"My little girl, drive anywhere
Do what you want
I don't care
Tonight I'm in the hands of fate
I hand myself over on a plate
Now"

Which child of the eighties or nineties doesn't know this line from Depeche Mode's "Behind the Wheel"? One of my favorite bands in my younger years, I was very fond of the synthpop sound and later also the typical new wave sounds. Just as I enthusiastically collect and hoard fragrances today, I collected music back then. It wasn't just about having every album from a band I liked. No, the single releases were important too, because they often hid not only new remixes of the songs but usually also a nice B-side. This was also the case with "Behind the Wheel": The back side featured a cover of "Route 66". I loved dancing to the "Casualty Mix", where the verses and choruses of both tracks alternated, just like the voices of Dave Gahan and Martin Gore.

Mr. Pollito and I were studying back then. Spending a lot of money on fragrances wasn't usually an option. My beloved only ever bought drugstore fragrances anyway; at that time, I hadn't discovered the high-priced niche yet. He casually mentioned this one as smelling good. Since the fragrance reminded me of the beloved back side of the same name, one day during a grocery shopping trip (back then at Tengelmann), the deodorant ended up in my shopping cart. I couldn't just buy the EdT because of the price :)

And yes, it was indeed a special fragrance that I still remember today. When I read the notes now, I understand why I liked it so much. Pineapple and citrus notes in the opening and later spicy-smoky, with tobacco and also patchouli. And this drugstore fragrance from the nineties even contains oak moss, which is no longer allowed today. Back then, I had no idea about fragrance notes; I couldn't have cared less. However, I could sing every song I liked almost in my sleep and sway my feet to it, haha! Nevertheless, this fragrance stuck with me. I can confirm a similarity to Aventus; the notes reveal that too. But just because someone liked Route 66 doesn't mean they have to be an Aventus fan. This budget-friendly oldie could do quite a bit more for my taste than the high-priced Creed. I can't relate to a comparison with Sauvage, as this one was not an Ambroxan bomb at all. Compared to Sauvage or other fragrances that focus on Ambroxan, this one was clearly a quiet player without any nerve factor.

I found the longevity impressive. My beloved only had the deodorant. When he applied it in the morning, I could still clearly perceive it in the evening when he came home after hours of work in the workshop. Mr. Pollito was then in his preliminary internship for his engineering studies and was busy with turning and milling day in and day out :)

I hadn't thought about this fragrance for a long time. It was only when I stumbled upon it here at Parfumo again. And yes, getting it as a vintage again would be something!

To everyone I haven't personally written to yet in the form of a reply or a wall post, I would like to wish a Merry Christmas at this point!

This men's fragrance was, unfortunately, a poem. Men who wore it were irresistibly erotic, as the spice blended with their body scent into a mixture that I always had to sniff after.

On men, Route 66 was a dreamy combination of fruit and oak moss, and I once owned a bottle myself. Until I figured out what exactly smelled so good on the man, I always thought it must be a men's deodorant that I didn't know.
There are certainly some good men's perfumes, maybe even many better ones, that have come out in the last 20 years, but this one has been something special for me.

... on route 666 - the mother of all roads!

In stark contrast to Zora: I find the scent magnificent. Unfortunately, I only have a small but super fine and well-preserved mini left, and now and then, I indulge in 3 drops. A ceremony! Drip drip drip, a little wafting, eyes closed, nose to wrist, and dreaming.

And immediately images appear that I unfortunately only know from TV; I never managed to experience it live. The changing landscapes, rustic motels, souvenir stands with paradisiacal knickknacks, desert, dust, telegraph poles, stones, the Rocky Mountains, gigantic canyons, asphalt, again and again the road on which a lonely HD hums. Route 66 smells of all that, of burnt grass - whether beside the road or in the pipe - of rubber, of tar, of dust, of shimmering heat and endless expanse. Again and again a different region of scents emerges, it never gets boring or monotonous.

Something completely different, no dew-fresh green forests, no erotic moldy cedar trees, no synthetic or real sperm whales, just road, with occasional refreshing treats by the wayside. Fortunately, I didn't notice the tonka bean, probably flattened on the road. I purr like a Golden Wing. A delicious fragrance experience. A scent without tortured, plump silicone eroticism, a scent that tingles, simply, pure and cool.

My arm has gone numb from the stiff position, sadly I take my hand from my nose, and slowly open my eyes and look out into reality:
Snow. Cold. Gray. Houses. Instead of dark thundering majestically cruising Harleys, just tiny colorful yapping bustling cars. Germany in January.

I once had the large original bottle in the tin can, which cost a few marks, and when it was empty, I carelessly threw away the masterpiece. An unforgivable, grievous offense! But back then, I really had no idea that decades later I would be sitting in front of a square box and hanging out in a virtual perfume world, searching like a fool for ridiculously expensive so-called vintage scents all over the world, obsessed with the greed to reel in something unique, timeless, and extraordinary, to revive images of grim chain-smoking men, of voluptuous women in long skirts of oh and oh and oh.

And what remains?:?: the jungle camp, the turncoat, and perfumes from Heidi Klum, Britney Spears, David Beckham, and yes, the singing turncoat.
So, now I’m totally depressed and considering whether I should drop a hundred and get that tin can back into my house because I am worth it, and so is the scent.