Every great city has its season and New York's is fall. There's no better time to be here, the obligatory Friday crawl to the Hamptons is finally over, and it's as if someone has flipped the switch back to work mode. Fashion Week dominates the first few days, ensuring plentiful celebrity sightings; there were the terminally buff Demi and Ashton canoodling right opposite me at the Diesel show, and on the table behind us at the Waverly Inn (Graydon Carter's hot new resto) was Jessica Simpson, in to celebrate the opening of Roberto Cavalli's new store on Fifth Avenue - shop openings being the new movie premieres. Currently a regular on the front row, I can testify to what fun it is inside the white swooping tents erected over Bryant Park, the formal gardens behind the great New York Public Library.
The central event took place a few nights ago and has already gone down in history as a genuine New York moment. Ralph Lauren, that great purveyor of image, was celebrating his 40th anniversary and the city's power elite - Mayor Bloomberg, Robert De Niro, Diane Sawyer, Sarah Jessica Parker et al - turned out to celebrate. It's been a year of such moments. In July, along with the fashion pack and much of Hollywood, I was fortunate enough to descend on Rome to acknowledge 45 years of the brilliant Italian designer Valentino. Perhaps conscious of Lauren's looming anniversary, Valentino threw down the gauntlet, shipping in additional columns to the Forum and taking over the city centre for his revels.
Lauren's response was to annex the Conservatory Garden, a spectacular spot at the north end of Central Park, and then, as the final model sloped off the runway, suddenly pull back the stage set to reveal the entire gardens, hung with chandeliers and set for a feast. It was a breath-stealing sight - all the more admirable for the amount of red tape he must have had to splice. For those of us allowed to borrow dresses from the Lauren archive it was doubly glamorous.
Underwater prodigies
American children swim far better than their British counterparts. The weather is one of the reasons. Another is the seriousness with which swimming is taught at summer camp - a necessity for any working parent because school holidays here last three months. I learned to swim with my teacher, Miss Sprittles, sporting a green tracksuit and standing on the side of the pool miming breaststroke, and so it was incredible to watch real swimming coaches who expect their charges to perform underwater turns and butterfly full lengths before they can read.
Then there are the facilities, something one takes for granted here until you remember that the UK has only about 20 Olympic-sized pools for the whole country. At our five-year-old's camp, there were three separate pools, and the 30 kids in his group were divided according to ability, one coach to every two children. Our elder son, sent by yellow school bus to a day camp in New Jersey, had seven pools at his disposal, two for diving, two for water sports, two for free swim and one for laps. Each child was tested as if swimming was as important as maths.
There's one other inspiration, not available in the UK because it's too cold - the numerous lakes that are swimmable for several months of the year. Whole communities spring up around them after Memorial Day in May, busily roping off lap lanes or providing diving platforms and safe swim areas. This rite of passage gives older kids the chance to wear red shorts and white T-shirts and become lifeguards - a prestige summer job, as proved by Pamela Anderson. Though school is back, the lakes stay usable until the end of October, and there's not much to compare with floating on your back, surrounded by golden New England foliage.
Light musings
It's always hard to know how to spend the anniversary of 9/11 - the one day that's not so great. After five years of doing nothing, I hosted a small private dinner this year for the former child star and now fashion designer Ashley Olsen at a friend's home in TriBeCa. There we watched the Towers of Light installation from the balcony, ruminating on how much - and how little - has changed.
Joanna Coles is editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, US
