Summer in Double Bay means linen, and lots of it. OK – linen is evergreen in these parts. But when the days are long and the sun is stifling, it becomes pretty much mandatory.

Summer in Double Bay is a long lunch at Margaret, or a white wine on the terrace of the Royal Oak. It’s the back deck of the 18 Footers club, watching the ferries arrive and the revellers set course for The Island.

If you’re 18 and just done with the HSC, summer in Double Bay is a long queue outside the Golden Sheaf on a Wednesday night.

But more than this, summer in Double Bay is a stairway that deposits you at one of the wonders of the world – Redleaf Beach.

In a city spoilt for beaches, both in quality and beauty, I tend to gravitate toward a different one each summer. Some years I’ll hit Coogee extra hard, or Camp Cove, or find myself venturing north to Freshwater. But Redleaf is a constant, a north star.

Maybe it’s because it’s close; if I take the cross-city tunnel I can be there in less than 15 minutes. Maybe it’s because it’s relaxing; no waves or surfboards to contend with, just the still waters of Diendagulla and the bobbing boats. Or maybe it’s because the spectacular outlook never fails to stun, no matter how many times you descend those steps and see that familiar pontoon.

Redleaf is peak Sydney. From the Seven Shillings side, you can sit on the sand and stare at the Harbour Bridge, or gaze out to the mansions of Point Piper and pick which one you’d buy if you won the lottery. Right behind you are the sprawling estates of Atlassian founders Mike Cannon-Brookes and Scott Farquhar. If you’re sitting above the high water line, you’re technically on their property.

If Sydney’s allure is all about the intersection of the urban and the natural, Redleaf is a jewel in the crown.

Double Bay has its own story of regress and renewal. Mocked as Double Pay for its sky-high prices, it can sometimes seem like a caricature of eastern suburbs excess. For a decade, local councillors have debated what Double Bay should be, and what it should look like.

I don’t live there, but I’d like to. I’d love to be one of those linen-clad people, swooshing around the leafy streets, collecting my coffee and baguette from Baker Bleu or perching on a stool at Filosofy reading the Financial Times. With Double Bay, you’ve got to lean into the stereotype – it’s the only way it works.

Alas, I’m just an outside observer. I watch them as they park their big expensive cars, or talk on the phone. I wonder what they’re up to; doing a deal, perhaps, or bailing their globetrotting kids out of some mishap. It’s another world, Double Bay – and in summer, that’s exactly what you want.

Best cafe?

It has to be the kiosk at Redleaf Beach: views – and a haloumi burger – to die for.

Best restaurant?

You go to Margaret to be seen, but it’s Twenty One Espresso for the true believers.

Best beach, park or pool?

No contest – Redleaf – though I’m sure some private pools give it a run for its money.

First place you take visitors?

Double Bay Woolworths to buy sunscreen and tell them how it used to be a pick-up joint.

Perfect night out in your suburb?

A random gig at the Golden Sheaf and a late dinner at Bibo Wine Bar.

What would make your suburb better?

If more young people could afford to live there (or even just buy a sandwich).

Best secret spot in your suburb?

Blackburn Gardens, just above Redleaf. If you don’t enter this way you might not know about it, but it’s gorgeous.

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