Ringing the string-course above the first floor are dozens of identical small stone faces, a young woman who could be 12 or 20. I’ve no idea who she was - an investor’s daughter, the architect’s wife, some anonymous model brought in for a week’s work.

I think the building has survived because no one dares tear down those faces. Also, of course, because it makes money for someone.

The carvings over the entrance are sorta-modified Moorish; I don't know if they were made to order, or you could get them from a catalogue.