Man about 'The House'

Not least with ebullient owner and chairman Mark Birkbeck, who has just booked another highly profitable year at what is invariably called the Harrods of the North. Does he mind the title? "Mind it? I don't care if they call me the Al-Fayed of the A9, as long as they keep coming."

House of Bruar is in the most unlikely location for a luxury goods superstore. Just along the road from the Duke of Atholl's Blair Castle, its round white turret is the milestone marking the start of the A9's long climb into the mountains. It is, literally, miles from anywhere.

But its tills rang up a sweet £4m profit on sales of nearly £18m from both retail and mail order. Both units are up 7% and 15% respectively on last year. In the next two years, Birkbeck is planning investment of £4.5m - from existing resources - to expand all its divisions, vastly increase warehouse space and turn the food hall into an "iconic" destination.

"I knew from the start that the A9 was Bond Street for people who pursue field sports such as fishing and stalking. It is their highway to their hobby," he said. "Any business with a quality offering should be able to succeed here. But quality has to be the key."

Birkbeck, 60, was speaking in a boardroom studded with polished antiques, carefully counterpointed by contemporary paintings - including a disturbingly erotic nude, apparently the wife of the artist. "She's so sexy, isn't she," he beamed.

A man who lives life to the full, he has already built and sold a retail empire, Jumpers, which had 130 shops and sales of £100m when he moved on. House of Bruar, he admits, satisfies a "hankering for a shop I could indulge myself in".

Though passionate about Scotland and Scots, and resident in Speyside, Birkbeck was born in Kirby Lonsdale in Yorkshire to a land agent father who extracted him from his public school during his O-levels because money for the fees had run out.

He went to the local grammar and "discovered the fairer sex.

That was the end of my studies". Following a summer job as a porter at Christie's, the fine art dealers, he joined a department - unheard of in days when promotion was dependent on connections. He had no money to trade or deal on his own behalf, but his time among valuable antiques - "and those beautiful women" - inspired a lifelong love of fine things.

His spell at Christie's ended ignominiously in 1971, however, when a mix-up in lots led to a rare Japanese vase being thrown out with the rubbish. A frantic search discovered it on a dump in Hackney, from where it went on to fetch a world record 110,000 guineas at auction. Birkbeck and 12 others - including a main board director - were summarily dismissed, pour encouager les autres.

Back in Yorkshire, he made a living dry stane dyking, haymaking and harvesting before starting to sell sheepskins and leather. Like a traditional travelling salesman, he quartered the country with two cases of samples "the size of coffins".

His trade in leather goods could lead to misunderstandings, such as the time in Toronto when he hauled his cases the length of Young Street to meet a sales lead - only to find the man ran a sex shop and the leather goods he wanted were whips and corsets.

As fashions changed and the bottom fell out of the sheepskin business, he moved into knitwear and founded Jumpers, which hit the crest of a market and unprecedented success by mass manufacture of hand-framed sweaters. When he sold out of the multi-outlet world at the age of 45, with millions bulging in his pockets, the pieces fell into place for House of Bruar.

"The site was an old pub which had been there since the droving days. Why did I think I could succeed with a retail outlet where it had failed? Sheer bloody arrogance, that's why. When you've sold a business once you feel pretty omnipotent. Self belief is a critical part of success," he said.

Birkbeck bought the site for £250,000 and invested £7m in creating his dream outlet without borrowing a penny. The store includes a restaurant, a food hall, country clothing, cashmere, and a gallery which contains dramatic, Highland-themed objets d'art - and contributes £1m a year.

The first two years he struggled to break even, but the outlet has been consistently profitable since then and its November sale is part of the social calendar for its niche market of premium goods buyers. He makes a point of employing local labour - the operation has more than 200 staff - and sourcing stock from the UK on condition that it meets quality standards.

He admits to only one moment of doubt, on the day that House of Bruar opened, but that was quickly pushed to one side by the Duke of Atholl's private army - the only one of its kind in Britain, and made up of gamekeeper and forest and estate workers.

"They were helping with the opening ceremony," said Birkbeck, "and they were firing one of their cannon. However, they put in too much charge and blew the bloody windows out. They were all wandering about with blackened faces and singed eyebrows. But we had a good piss-up afterwards."

Birkbeck has no worries about wider economic issues impinging on retail. "I'm 60," he said. "I've seen three recessions. If another one comes along, I'll just raise my game and trade my way out of it."

His son Patrick is managing director and his wife Linda is "massively involved" with him on the buying side. Retirement is not an issue at the moment and his immediate concern is implementation of current expansion plans.

"For 20 years," he said, "the woollen mills had the Scottish tourist retail market sewn up with imported goods, but the era of the independent tourist operation has arrived and I believe that House of Bruar has set the standard. We are being emulated all the time. That gives me great pleasure."