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The moment IOC president Juan Antonio Samaranch declared that the host city of the 2000 Olympic Games was “Sidd-ay”, the lucky winner embarked on an unabashed orgy of reinvention.

For a long time the city looked like it was Beirut’s sister city or Christo’s latest creation. White dropcloths and scaffolding draped every edifice. Jackhammers punched your eardrums; dust scratched your eyeballs and walking on the rubble wrecked your ankles.

That was then. Now, seven years after Samaranch’s announcement, a tidal wave of moollah and mana have transformed Sydney. Thirteen downtown hotels have been built, a city/airport rail link is in place, two airport terminals have been refurbished and hundreds of new restaurants, cafes and cars have opened. To say nothing of the new Olympic venues at Homebush and Bondi beach.

My point is that even if you missed the “best games ever”, you can still benefit from the experience. Sydney exudes the sleek, self-assurance of an athlete at peak performance. It’s toned and trendy and, damn it, even giving tips on how not to look like a tourist. Please - no shorts, sandals and backpacks. Dress up, not down.

Mind you, everything here is a fashion statement. The hotels you stay in, the cafes you frequent and the shopping strip you trawl - all dead giveaways I’m afraid. Badges of social status, barometers of aspiration and windows into your tawdry soul.

For instance I stayed for a time at the Four Points Hotel, Darling Harbour. Formerly known as the Nikko hotel, this establishment once catered for the Asian market. The black laquer furniture and dusty pink bed covers bear testimony to its past. Now owned by Sheraton, the Four Points is undergoing a $A20m makeover in the palette du jour - warm earthy tones, creams, burnt orange - and will be reborn as an up-to-date meetings and convention hotel.

Great views, brilliant location, top facilities but not where it’s at if you’re in an industry where the people call themselves creatives.

You’ll probably head for Darlinghurst and the quirky Medusa or minimalist Kirketon or even rival copycat (so say the owners of the Medusa and Kirketon anyway) L’otel across the road where French colonial meets Calvin Klein. Two of the three hotels come with top bars and restaurants. Kirketon has small dark Fix for cigars and drinks, Salt for food by chef Luke Mangan at Kirketon as well as a champagne bar; L’otel has the mosaic-tiled Lime Bar.

The new W tries to have it all. The only W hotel outside the States, it is strategically positioned at one of the top three new developments jazzing up the harbour city.

Housed in a 90-year-old wool and cargo handling facility at Woolloomooloo Wharf, the W straddles the history/hip quotient and business/boutique market with a certain amount of unease.

Staff wearing Disney-esque headsets look like dress-up gofers on a film set. This delusion extends to their titles. They’re called cast members, not hotel staff, and the headset is for communication with the front desk, apparently so they can respond to demands quickly and efficiently.

Though the cavernous inside space has been reworked to create intimate spaces for the bar and restaurant, you can tell it hasn’t been easy. And don’t even think about how hard it must be to heat in winter. In honour of the critic who panned the new establishment, there’s a drink called Leo’s Licker, described as “bitter and twisted.”

Still, it does a neat fusion of minimalist and luxury with rich chocolate brown and cream colours, goose-down pillows, advanced in-room entertainment system and speedy internet access all in a tiny space. With the view of the sea from your window, it’s rather like being in a cabin on a cruise ship. That the Australian navy still moors battleships here just gives it an extra salty authentic touch.

The wharf building also houses apartments, a pool, jacuzzi and fitness centre (all available to W guests) and a row of top-notch restaurants overlooking the sea and the Royal Botanic Gardens. The bar at Otto on The Wharf is as popular as its nouveau Italian food. Plus it’s a great place to see waves of fruit bats sweep out across the city as the sun falls.

Like I say, the Wharf is only one of three developments pepping up the city. The other two are the GPO and East Circular Quay.

The GPO at Martin Place is a gorgeous Victorian sandstone structure dating from 1874. A Westin hotel has been rather oddly bolted on to its top but the basement now houses a splendid new food hall, superb steak restaurant, a brasserie, conveyor belt sushi, cheese store, wine shop, New York-style deli and several bars serving juice, coffee and cocktails.

The development of East Circular Quay, the once vacant strip between the ferry terminal and the Royal Botanic Gardens, originally inspired mass protests. Now that the structure is up and everyone has accepted that the views of the Opera House would never be the same, people have come to, well, not love maybe, but at least enjoy the restaurants, bars, cafes and art-house cinema at this elegant loggia.

Now for the telling act of shopping. Paddington still trades in funk and tat with some of the best shops in the side streets like the femmy fashion house of Collette Dinnigan in William Street where you’ll also find the Corner Shop, showcasing both edgy local designers and vintage clothing and Belinda Seper’s accessories store.

Walk on and you get to Queen St, the beginning of Woollahra, where good taste comes with high prices and establishment understatement.

Simon Johnson and Jones the Grocer are high-end delis to drool over while Orson & Blake trades in a clever combination of homeware, fashion and books and Akira Isogawa constructs wearable works of art.

Queen Street is also antique alley and, the dealers tell me, rates highly with New Zealand shoppers, which tells you something about wealth in this country since items include a regency walnut armchair for $A13,000 or a Louis 15th sedan chair for $A25,000.

The Art of Wine & Food deals in antique from this industry. This is the place to buy a tasterin (shallow cup used for wine tasting in the 18th century), antique French saucepans or ancient gizmos used in vineyards.

As befits the trade, antique dealers are gabby and knowledgeable and prone to bemoaning that things aren’t what they used to be. People are no longer friendly when they come into the shop, don’t meet your eye or return your greeting. And if you tell them an article harks back to the 18th century, like as not they’ll think this means 1800 on.

For these attention-deficit drones, Fox Studios in Moore Park, not far away, awaits their patronage. Actually the backlot has been a disaster which has caused operators to cut prices drastically but the precinct also includes Bent St eateries, shops, cinemas and the working film studios with office blocks.

On Wednesday there’s a Farmer’s Market in the old Easter showgrounds where you can buy delicacies such as pork from pigs in eco-houses, portobello mushrooms, tatsoi and mizuna greens for the salad and white nectarines.

Is it cool? Well, it’s good clean, carless family fun. What’s your guess?

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