You might think the life of a turf correspondent is a constant chorus from “Guys and Dolls”: “Who do you like in the fifth, Max?” But most folks who ask me something aren’t asking for betting tips. (Which is wise, as there is no quicker way to lose your money than to talk to hacks and handicappers.)

No, what people really want to know is what they should wear to the track. The answer is pretty simple: Dress to match the crowd where you will be sitting. And if you don’t know where you’re sitting, you can wear whatever you like – just make sure it’s got pockets for betting slips and programs.

Over the course of the last year, I traveled the country, from track to track, as I researched my book “Race Day: A Spot on the Rail with Max Watman” (Ivan R. Dee, $24.95). I had a chance to observe the customs of dress at the best tracks across the country, on major race days and quieter days, too. What I came to understand is that a racetrack is a wildly disparate collection of accoutrement.

Let’s start close to home: at the window behind the paddock at Aqueduct, in Queens, in the middle of winter. It’s too cold to go outside. West Indians wearing Lion of Judah T-shirts lean against the doorframes, their winter coats on the plastic chairs back near the television sets, while Chinese waiters, some still dressed in their black and whites, chain-smoke and look over their programs. Not exactly Longchamps, but better, still, than the average scene midday at one of the city’s OTB parlors.

But it is not all thus.

The credentials I got for “Race Day” were hot enough to allow me to sit around in the luxurious Turf Club at Santa Anita Park in Southern California. There, you get the feeling you’re about to be thrown from the room because the buttonholes on the cuffs of your off-the-rack jacket are only ornamental. It’s a room where you feel as if Cary Grant could walk right in at any moment (although it was usually Hollywood Park that he visited).

Outside at the same track, amid the kumquats in the paddock, there is a distinct cowboy element to the scene: Stetson hats, snap shirts, and Wranglers abound.

At the Kentucky Derby, perhaps American horse-racing’s most fashion-conscious event, there are hundreds of yards of seersucker. Women wear crinoline and hats. Men wear white suits. But on the infield, people aren’t wearing shirts at all. There you’ll see folks wandering the premises dressed up as jugs of Early Times Whisky. So don’t worry if your shoes are scuffed; at least you’re wearing them.

This weekend is the Travers Stakes up at the Saratoga Race Course. And the dress code will span the spectrum. In the boxes, it really does look like 1935. The ceiling fans whir overhead, and everyone is dressed to the nines. As at the Kentucky Derby, men wear sharp suits; women wear hats. Philanthropist, socialite, and horse owner Mary Lou Whitney tends to wear pastel suits as fine as those that come from the closet of the Queen of England.

Some dress for polo, in blue blazers and green pants. Some dress for the plantation lawn party, in bright Sunday dresses and lacy hats. I saw a table at Saratoga earlier this month in full evening dress. Better still was a woman in a beautiful, cleavage-displaying dress made of orange and red fabric, the same fabric used on her pocketbook and her shoes.

I have also seen a woman wearing a black Tshirt that read, “F- Milk. Got Pot?” Out in the backyard, you’re more likely to see Giants T-shirts and blue jeans.

There is always room at the track for Rodney Dangerfield’s Monty Capuletti dressed in argyle socks, pale blue loafers, and maroon polyester Sansabelt slacks. Just as there is always a Nathan Detroit, the character from “Guys and Dolls,” walking around with a scarlet kerchief shooting from his broad pinstripes.

My advice is this: Pick the racing crowd you’d most like to emulate and do so. It’s a great opportunity to costume up. There are always gaggles of folks dressed up more than everyone around them – they always look like they’re having more fun than anyone else.