If the world’s leading art fairs were novels, Frieze would be written by Martin Amis, Miami Beach by Tom Wolfe, and Basel by Thomas Mann. Frieze, though held each autumn, is young and sexy. Winter-time Miami Beach is gaudy and smart. Basel, grand, grave and stylish, is the high summer of the art world, dripping with old money and glittery provenances.

The 39th Basel Art Fair runs this weekend, with a list of its 300 international exhibitors reading like a roll-call of those dealers who made 20th- and 21st-century art history, from New York’s William Acquavella to David Zwirner via young galleries such as Beijing Art Now and Moscow’s XL. But although nothing galvanises Basel’s bohemian-bourgeois galleries and museums more than the prospect of 60,000 well-heeled cosmopolitan visitors in four days in June, the benefits for art lovers ripple on, for after the jet set have gone home, the midsummer shows remain: proud, stunning and empty-ish. The aftermath of the feast, when the city is unrushed, and its perfect-pitch exhibitions offer crystalline, reflective enjoyment, is the time to visit.