Flags are being waved across Scotland this weekend – even if the excitement seems a little engineered.

With celebrations ­under way to mark Saint Andrew’s Day and the end of the Year of Homecoming, saltires are fluttering over the land. In low-season November, audiences for these events are likely to be light on visitors from overseas, but the much-dreamed-of diaspora would ­certainly approve of our enduring appetite for celebrating ourselves.

Over the years, Scotland has made various attempts to sell itself more forcefully and coherently abroad. It may be forgotten now but, a few years back, ­tourism-related businesses were exhorted to subscribe to “Scotland the Brand”, a

£6 million campaign aimed at marketing the nation abroad. This was abandoned when the Saltire was adopted (at a cost of £300,000) as the accepted international symbol for the country.

Subsequently, Glasgow became Scotland With Style and Edinburgh became our Inspiring Capital (both a result of impressively expensive marketing consultations), and extensive strategies are now in place to position and promote these brands. It’s a tough old (and new) world out there, competing for attention and for tourists. So it’s important to be clear about what people expect and want of Scotland and how we can best deliver it. Scotland has a recognisable identity that is the envy of the world. We may be small but we are perfectly perceived. Marketing may demand branding, but one of the best ways to sell ourselves is by being ourselves. Let’s stay real.

I have recently returned from my odyssey around the country, researching the 10th edition of Scotland The Best – a biennial travel guide to the country. From city to city, island to glen, I sought out the places and the people, some new, some there forever, that are really good at what they do. Not many people would be mad enough to do this, but in true Calvinist fashion I see it as a duty and responsibility; a job that has to be done. People imagine that it must be great visiting all those fabulous hotels and restaurants; and it would be, if I didn’t have a schedule that required visiting everywhere else at the same time.

Every two years, as a one-man-inspectorate, I discover and rediscover and assess everywhere on an equal playing field, and from one two-year period to the next, I do believe that I can construct a credible big picture from the myriad snapshots I collect.

Many others before me have tried to work out who and what we are now. Invariably, those brand creations and tourism strategies have followed intensive data-gathering sprees – questionnaires, brainstorming sessions, focus groups. And the results always show that Glaswegians are friendly (even though they have the grumpiest taxi-drivers on the planet), Edinburgh is beautiful, the weather is a drag but we live with it, and we are big on big scenery. These surveys all seem to conclude that for the outside world, our most attractive characteristics, both as a people and a place, are that we have humour, humanity, integrity and authenticity. These are powerful attributes; they can’t be manufactured. Pity they are so undervalued.

To me, the core value encompassing all of the above is our individualism; people who are attracted to us are individualists too. However, we know that what a lot of visitors want is safe, sedentary consumption. There are now more cruise ship punters than cod in the ocean and Highland roads are jammed with convoys of bus-bound tourists: the Lochs And Glens coach-trippers who see the lochs and glens through a window. Flocks of foreigners are herded around the sights. Somebody makes money and I suppose all are welcome. But increasingly people want more and they want to be part of something. Scotland is superbly well placed to offer quality time and unforgettable experiences.

This year, the economic crisis led many people to holiday at home, and it seems to me that Scotland did well out of the staycation summer. In a late ticket and late booking world, it may have been touch and go for some tourism-dependent businesses, but during my Scotland The Best tour I found busy restaurants, packed festivals and events, and hard-to-get hotel rooms. Towns such as Oban were house-full for weeks on end and it seemed practically impossible to find anywhere to stay in the northwest Highlands and the Hebrides without booking well ahead. This may apply only to the places that are any good (in my book I seek out and hopefully bring recognition to those that are “the best”), but many have flourished in the dreaded recession. Perhaps that’s how it should be. We expect recessions to ruthlessly weed out the weak but a casual visitor might be forgiven for wondering where the credit crunch was hiding as they tried to get a table in any of Scotland’s top restaurants this year.

Staycationers are, by definition, more local, so more Scots than ever are discovering their own country. And in my experience, Scots are among the most discriminating of publics, more acutely attuned to fakery and exploitation than others. We are all Aberdonian now in our determination to find good value and we hate getting ripped off, but the Scots are every bit as sophisticated in their demand for quality and authenticity as anyone. So standards should be going up, shouldn’t they?

Clearly cash is a problem. Recessions throw up opportunities, but it is a hard time to innovate or invest. You need nerve, nous and creativity; that old enterprising spirit. You also need to know what people want. I believe our tourism and hospitality industry is at its best, and therefore most competitive, when we provide real and authentic experiences: the club at Celtic Connections, a cycle track in the Trossachs, a cosy family pub or a funky new one whose approach and menu are du jour. And let’s not overlook our wildlife: ospreys practically invented eco tourism. Who could forget seeing their first sea eagle on Rhum, or the time they watched the salmon leaping at the Falls of Shin?

In my book, “the best” generally refers to a venue that is thought-out, distinctive and invariably individually owned and cared for. Sometimes, conscientious owners who succeed in one location do expand, but the best tend not to develop more than two or three venues so that they can still attend personally to them all. The Mussel Inns in Edinburgh and Glasgow, the An Lochans (Glasgow, Tighnabruaich, Glendevon), James Thomson’s Prestonfield/ Witchery/Tower in Edinburgh, the Dolls/Grill/Glass Houses in St Andrews, have all resisted the temptation to move further afield. “Collections” like Edinburgh’s Townhouse Group, whose latest ambitious venture is opening in Glasgow, and the Hotel du Vins, are purposefully unique and site-specific. Many of the above unusually have crossed the Harthill bealach but as with the ubiquitous Dave Ramsden with his expanding litter of Dogs restaurants in Edinburgh, the guys who started them are never far away.

In the 2010 edition of Scotland The Best, I introduce a new code. “Atmos” is the “it” factor that some venues indefinably just have; these places are the antithesis of the fake and fabricated. In our cost-effective, chain-laiden world “atmosphere” is priceless. It is experiential and cannot be packaged or commodified. By definition, it is authentic: created by individuals rather than computers or consultants. When we make decisions on where to eat out, it’s not necessarily the food, or even the price that determines our choices. We are most likely to frequent places where we will be comfortable. These favourite bars, restaurants, cafes and country house hotels succeed in a quiet non-marketed way; we hear about them through word of mouth.

Of course, atmos is often equated with “old”, with places that have stood the test of time. It is easy to “get” the atmosphere at the Drovers Inn at Inverarnan, which has been going since 1725, or Rosslyn Chapel. But most of Scotland’s feelgood venues have been created much more recently: The Ubiquitous Chip restaurant and Café Gandolfi in Glasgow, the Shore and Port O’ Leith bars in Edinburgh, the Eilean Iarmain hotel on Skye. And even very contemporary creations like Monachyle Mhor at Balquihidder or Cafezique in Glasgow’s Hyndland, brilliantly combine style with substance.

Style, however, is an elusive concept, and it’s when we affect it as part of a marketing strategy that things get tricky. When Glasgow adopted style as its major selling point it was being gallus as we’d expect; the subtext being, presumably, that style is more or less absent everywhere else in Scotland.

Style is not dissimilar to atmos: it’s hard to put your finger on but it’s easiest to esteem when it’s timeless, when it doesn’t date. Stylish people and places might be expected to set rather than follow trends. Style should never be confused with fashion – especially today’s high street fashion. So, one might question whether the Versace and Armani stores, or Princes Square, contribute a great deal to Glasgow’s claim (except as a retailtastic destination). They are, after all, chains of shops, and every high street in the UK is dominated by chains. Fashion quarters, such as Glasgow’s Merchant City or Edinburgh’s Multrees Walk, may be upmarket but they ain’t Sex And The City.

No, style is to be found where individualism and creativity flourish. It exists where there are small shops, bars and studios in back streets where rents can be afforded, and where atmospheres and reputations – rather than just money – are made.

The edges and dark corners of cities are always more stylish and vibrant than downtown. The reason that Barcelona became the world’s favourite city post-Olympics is because the backstreets of the Barrio Gótico are full of obscure individual shops and bars to stumble upon. The city is revealed as you lose yourself in its slightly dangerous back alleys and squares. It may be grimy and smelly but it oozes style. This is true of New York, Turin and Shoreditch. (Could there be a transformative Commonwealth Games opportunity coming up?)

Scotland should be celebrating and promoting individual and original style – not glossy, fashion-based consumerism. Those endlessly made-over bars and restaurants that proliferate in Glasgow’s Bath Street could in fact be anywhere.

In the new Scotland The Best, the list of “cool bars” in Glasgow is thin. The city may be famed for its nightlife as well as its shopping but the really cool bars are the old ones like the Horseshoe in Drury Street or the uniquely crafted Oran Mór on Great Western Road.

For some reason, Edinburgh has far more individually owned bars in which the décor, furniture and feel give the impression of being one-off – they are owned and run by real people: places where you feel comfortable whatever you are wearing.

At the moment these two cities – each so uniquely “itself” – compete for international attention. (The new Lonely Planet World City Guide ignores Edinburgh and suggests that Glasgow will soon overtake it as a destination.) Personally, I think their competition is stimulating. But Scotland has much to gain if they become more connected. For while currently the two cities’ cultural lives are utterly remote from each other, bring on that 20-minute train journey and we will never look back. With a fast commuter link, more of us would make the effort to cross-attend our vibrant, distinctive and often world-class festivals. And so would our friends from abroad, many of whom haven’t time to travel between cities and can get stuck in one place.

None of this has much to do with saltires or tartan and many would assert that this is how it should be. But along with whisky and golf and “heritage”, those things contribute much to the way others see us. Saltires and tartan were among the central themes in the Year of Homecoming programme; the troubled main event, The Gathering, was full of them.

I don’t want to enter the debate about the cash (I know the many ways that events can fail to reach their targets) and I was in Sutherland at the time so I don’t know how it looked, but I do think there is a place for tartan tourism. It’s how we present it that counts. You only have to walk downhill (and I do mean downhill) from Scotland’s premier attraction Edinburgh Castle to see how bad tartan tourism can get. The doorway-cluttered shops (mostly owned by the same people) with discount kilts and See You Jimmy hats, the walls of open-topped buses, the tours tramping the Royal Mile searching for ersatz history and fake ghosts ... these have the run of our World Heritage Site, and they let the city down.

Those responsible would say they were only giving people what they want. But we have to hold back this tide. We tourists are lazy and easily led; what matters is where we are led to. Show us something good and we will love Scotland forever. Tartan and all that it represents can be continuously and creatively reconstructed.

On that note, and with a shameless plug, I must draw your attention to a new Scottish cultural extravaganza to be premiered at Edinburgh’s Festival Theatre at Hogmanay. Off Kilter will be cool, exciting, contemporary and not without its tartan moments. It’s a celebration of authentic made-in-Scotland culture and you do get tae dance. And outside, round the corner, there’s a funky jazz bar (among the best in Britain) and a sweet little Indian cafe with integrity in every grain of rice. Stay home again next year and seek out all the places like these which get “it” right and stay true to themselves. They are all part of the “Scotland for Real” brand that doesn’t need any campaign at all.

Scotland The Best, by Peter Irvine, is published by Collins tomorrow