Fall in NYC comes as a relief. The city in summer has its virtues—emptier streets, more easily-acquired reservations at most of the best restaurants—but the heat and the reek of garbage baking in it more than wear out that season’s welcome well before September slouches, sweating, into frame. Flattering it is not that autumn follows on its heels, not only turning off the oven but also invigorating New Yorkers who can now don the jackets they are so proud of and walk at their usual bracing clips without perspiring quite so readily.