Let's Be Fashionable

A dewy-eyed newlywed duo—he a buttoned-up accountant, she a jazz-age ingénue—alights upon a manicured suburbia where wedding rings are mere costume jewelry and adultery is the cocktail-hour sport. Over manicured hedges, gin-laced whispers beckon: swap partners, swap stories, swap souls. Their initial gasp curdles into a slow-motion crack-up as邻居 soirées devolve into carnivalesque cotillions of wandering hands and purring innuendo. The film’s visual grammar—mirrors tilting askew, silk stockings snagging on garden gates—renders the erosion of fidelity as a kinetic fever dream. By the time our heroine pirouettes through a confetti-strewn finale, the couple must decide whether love is a bespoke garment to be tailored anew or a relic to be discarded like last season’s hemline.