It might be subtler than football stripes or club ties, but around this time of year, a line in the sand is drawn. Whether you’re packing for the glitz of Capri or the quaint charm of Nantucket, men take a definite stance in what kind of swimwear they feel defines them best. And they might not think it, but they’re making a decision about what they want to express to the world as they strip off to their nethers; patrician and proper, in a dignified pair of swimmers? Accessorised with The New York Times and some horn-rimmed spectacles? Or ready to hit the tiki hut in thigh-skimming Day-Glo and a mai tai? So, which fellow are you?

How many likes did you garner in your underwear this summer? In the Instagram-alternate reality, if you don’t go on vacay and rack up the Insta air miles, like, did you even go on holiday at all? Like a 21st-century Mr Dick Whittington with an iPhone, he’s set off for the backdrops he knows will enhance his online persona; Palm Springs for those desert skies, Positano for the paintbox perfection, ticking off the locations and fine-tuning a wardrobe that will happily complement it all. This includes a vibrant pair of Moonrise printed shorts from Vilebrequin (the “explore” board on Instagram doesn’t like pallid colours), bracelets and charm necklaces that speak to his #soulful credentials and the faster-filter-finding finger in the west. #Takemeback.

He’s not afraid to show off what God gave him and bare his wares to the world. Stereotyped as the almost-attire of German tourists in the 1970s, the budgie-smuggler briefs are the most inclusive of all swimwear. Why? Because it’s all about body positivity. This guy doesn’t need to look like an Athena poster as he orders the club sandwich from the pool boy, he’s happy as he is in his teeny tiny trunks. And if he’s particularly blessed down there? If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

He’s got his sturdy, no-nonsense, Channel-crossing swimming trunks on – like this practical grey number from Hartford – and he’s ready to out-swim Mr Bear Grylls if he has to. This adventurer doesn’t trifle with piffling paddles or namby-pampy poolside drinks. Instead, he wants the world to know that he’s serious about his endeavours, envisions himself traversing Amazonian tributaries and synchronising watches for a particularly deep dive, but in reality is crashing past the frolicking eight-year-olds in the shallow end.

This chap is the hedonistic younger brother to the Insta-star, but less focused on his appearance and social media footprint. Instead, his swim shorts need to take him from poolside at the villa to the after-Pacha-party, then intensive recovery period doing yoga in Formentera. For that he needs a party-happy allrounder; splashy pink leopard prints pick up the strobe lights nicely, but also look suitably bohemian in downward dog (a hydrating Bloody Mary in the distance).

The button-down shirt is neatly squirrelled away, a copy of the new book by Mr Paul Auster set aside for poolside reading and the clam bake booked in. Our East Coast fellow follows in the footsteps of his idol President John F Kennedy in his collegiate seersucker stripes from Thom Browne, preferably worn with boat shoes and a windswept mane of hair from all that sailing. He travels up from the city to spend his time in the preppy Wasp heartland, where the clapboard is as neutral as the chit-chat, the crowd a veritable Ralph Lauren advert and the comforting spires of Yale just a schooner away.