15 E. 57th St.
The truth is, an appointment at the tonsorial icon’s multistory, Provence-themed 57th Street salon feels more like a day at a clinic these days than an afternoon in the country. Fekkai himself is rarely on premises, and his stylings haven’t evolved much in the decade since he reached his peak. Though the place is beautiful, it lacks charm: Clients have to show photo I.D. at the desk, take an elevator to a check-in floor that’s busier than a JFK terminal, then take another elevator. We know of customers who have waited two hours for a trim. And if you order a Coke, orange juice, or cappuccino—generally gratis at comparable salons—it appears on your bill.