The recession-deniers - Telegraph In these "retail theatres," you learn that "footfall" is down, but "spend" is up: fewer people are spending more. Which is how the clientele prefers it: no need to fight through the massed crowds, because the masses can't afford to enter. This is a world where cars cost £125,000, where houses start at £10 million and where, I am reminded, "At this level, everyone pays cash." Recession or no recession, albeit perhaps more nervously and discreetly, it is thriving. And, contrary to popular belief, its inhabitants aren't just Russian, Chinese, Qatari, or any other nationality constantly being accused of driving up our property prices. The British are super-rich, too. When I first speak to Robert Dubsky, 36, the founder of Yacht Masters, the bespoke brokerage company, he is in Antigua, stepping onto a yacht. He can't talk long. There is a deal to be done. I ask around, and discover more. As you read this, a "British self-made businessman" and his family will probably be preparing to head for the Caribbean to board the 60m (197ft) superyacht Capri. They will, perhaps, cruise to St Barts, where "the one per cent of the one per cent," as an old captain calls them, like to congregate at this time of year. Here the super-rich can enjoy the company of fellow billionaires (plus a smattering of film stars), and no one mutters disapprovingly about extravagance. For his fortnight charter of Capri, with her onyx marble bathrooms, her "full-beam master stateroom," on-deck Jacuzzi and mini-marina of jet ski "toys," our businessman will pay just €830,000 (£696,000). Minimum. "The Brits are very much alive and kicking," says Dubsky, now ensconced in his office, hidden in a private estate deep in the Surrey countryside. There's lots of money around. The Capri is owned by John Caudwell, the billionaire businessman, philanthropist and Phones4U founder. His other yacht is the 67m (220ft) Apoise, which he's spending about £10 million extending to 73m (240ft). He wants a "beach club" on the stern, with bar and massage room. And about now, one of Britain's richest women and her husband will be taking delivery of their New Year's treat. At 96m (315ft), and by most estimates worth comfortably more than £100 million, Vava II is the biggest private yacht built in Britain. With a fortune rumoured to be about £6.8 billion, Kirsty Bertarelli, a former Miss UK, and her husband, Ernesto, a Swiss pharmaceuticals magnate, can afford the six decks, the helipad, the stone baths in the cabins, the glass lifts and the swimming pool whose depth can be adjusted at the touch of a button. Perhaps it isn't surprising the British superyacht industry grew by more than six per cent last year to £450 million. "It's been difficult," says Stephen Hills, the managing director of Pendennis Plus, the boat builders who assisted on Vava II, "but the ultra-high net worth individuals are through the dip and in recovery." So much so that Trevor Abrahmsohn of the super-prime estate agents Glentree International, can refer to "the so-called European recession." When it comes to the London trophy mansion market, he says, "I'm selling some houses at 10 per cent above the halcyon days of 2007. London is now the world's most happening place: tax-efficient, a business and cultural centre, the place to be, for every nationality. People aren't holding back. Jaws dropped in the spring when a penthouse overlooking Hyde Park (through bullet-proof windows) became the most expensive home in Britain after selling for £136.4 million. The record didn't even survive the summer. In August, a Russian billionaire spent £140 million on Park Place, the 300-year-old Renaissance-style country mansion where King George III spent many happy childhood days (in the 18th century, before they built the spa and helipad). Listening to Abrahmsohn, one senses this was merely the tip of the iceberg. "Many of our properties," he admits, "are just in my head: no brochures, no particulars. If you want to buy, we won't discuss it until you have signed a non-disclosure agreement - until we trust you, until you have been "cleansed." That's what real wealth is about. In a world where sharp-suited businessmen serve billionaires in flip-flops, on yachts, discretion is king. It's not just to spare the feelings of the squeezed 99.99 per cent. The rich make irresistible targets. "The best security," I am warned, "is discretion." Envy also features, though, especially now. Dubsky prefers to operate from that country estate: no way in, no way out, except by private road. We tend to work below the radar, to avoid appearing to show off in this very tight environment. There are many people who don't understand the huge amount of money and employment that this business brings into Britain. So Abrahmsohn will talk only elliptically of silent bidding wars over multi-million pound properties, of Whitestone House, "Hampstead's only Regency mansion directly on the Heath," with its ground floor "atrium water cascade," "handcrafted cantilevered stone staircase" and modernised interior. It sold almost immediately to a British buyer with quick access to £19.25 million. If it happens quietly, it might seem astonishing that it happens at all. To many, the September 2008 Monaco Yacht Show seemed the last hurrah of an ancien régime. The crowds marvelled at the 98 superyachts crammed into Port Hercule, with their 3,000-litre, multi-deck fish tanks, their retractable helipads, zebra-skin safes and combined price of £2.5 billion. But Lehman Brothers had collapsed just nine days before the show started. Bankers were vacating their offices clutching cardboard boxes. As the yachts left for their Caribbean winter havens, the billionaires had reason to be pensive. By the time the 2009 Sunday Times Rich List was published, the top 1,000 multimillionaires in Britain had lost a combined £155 billion. The 37 per cent drop was the biggest fall in the list's 21-year history. Business empires collapsed; trophy mansions were sold, or repossessed. Frequently, the victims were those with no resources in reserve, or perhaps those who overstretched themselves in the race to impress. It was different for those with cash reserves. "If you have cash to invest at the bottom of the market," explains Hills, "then you will ride it out quicker than everyone else." Come the 2010 Rich List, the multimillionaires had managed a 30 per cent rise, their biggest recorded increase. By 2011, their combined wealth was £395.8 billion, within striking distance of the "halcyon days of 2007." It's slightly different now, everyone insists. Memories of the hard times linger. The watchword seems to be "cautious optimism." "It's not frenzied like 2007," insists Hills. People then were buying very, very expensive things they didn't even want. Perhaps, then, Caudwell's yacht extension is just part of the shift to more thoughtful purchasing, especially as his own humble beginnings mean he knows what it is like when money is tight. The extension is an investment that will pay its way, says Stephen White, the owner of the International Yacht Register brokerage, fresh from a meeting at Caudwell's mansion. It will add value to the £42 million Apoise; Caudwell will earn even more money when he charters her out. He's a savvy businessman, and one of the richest men in England. It's all relative. It's like if you have a nice big farmhouse and add a conservatory. And just because you are discreet and sensible, it doesn't mean your chauffeur can't drive the big car, especially if its sumptuous interior is hidden behind the "privacy glass." Figures released this month by The Society of Motor Manufacturers and Traders revealed that the 4.4 per cent drop in demand for new cars generally was exactly mirrored by a 4.4 per cent rise in UK Bentley sales in 2011. Last June, when the motor industry as a whole was six per cent down on June 2010, Land Rover launched the "Range Rover Autobiography Ultimate Edition," its first six-figure car. For £125,000 you got the "superyacht-inspired" teak floor - in the boot - reclining heated and cooled seats in the limousine-style rear with its champagne cooler and iPads. The worldwide limited run of 500, with about 40 in Britain, sold out "pretty much instantly," admits a Land Rover spokeswoman. Jatinder Aujla, the operations director of Farnell Land Rover, one of the country's biggest dealerships, had to turn away customers clamouring to part with £125,000. Yes, we could have sold two or three more. Business is very buoyant. The limited edition trick works with London trophy mansions, too. One buying agent, with bittersweet memories of cancelling his summer holiday because he was so busy, confided that demand comfortably outstrips supply for the kind of property billionaires demand: with cinema room, spa complex and, in roads like Kensington Palace Gardens, the comforting presence of fellow billionaires as neighbours. "If there is only one house fitting their requirements, they will just say: "I want it, I can afford it, so I'll pay whatever is needed to get it."" This, I am often told, is good for everybody. The yachts, the mansions, the handbags are so much more than decadent fripperies. They plough hundreds of millions into the British economy, employing thousands. Listen to Roxburgh, the triumphant party organiser of 2011: "One very charming client said to me that she viewed entertaining as the new philanthropy. She said: "I know that if I spend hundreds of thousands on an event, I am not just entertaining my guests, I am paying the mortgages of everyone working there. I could keep the money in the bank, helping nobody. At least this way I know the florist is feeding his children." " And there is a consolation prize for those too slow or too poor to afford the Range Rover Ultimate. If you want to beat a nine-month waiting list, Aujla has another of this year's big sellers: a Range Rover Evoque, £4,000 alloy wheels, £4,000 "luxury pack" with panoramic sunroof, Meridian sound system, dual-view navigation screen and surround cameras. One careful owner, yours to drive away for just £51,844. That's the original sale price. Surely, I ask, in this climate, he can't expect that kind of money for a second-hand car with 1,270 miles on the clock? "I'm confident," he replies smoothly. Very confident.