A moment outside of time. The runway is ready. But tonight, it is not models who walk... it is the masters themselves. He enters first - Leonardo da Vinci - elegance draped in logic. Each step a sketch, each fold measured. Van Gogh storms in, coat blazing with colour and motion. A canvas in motion, restless and raw. Picasso reimagines form. Jacket twisted, trousers debating. He wears contrast like a crown. Monet follows - soft, shifting. His garment floats, like mist over water. Dalí arrives, time tangled in his coat. Surreal and weightless, he walks through dream. Rembrandt commands silence. Velvet, shadow, and gravity. Dignity, deeply sewn. Kahlo is fire dressed in flowers. Her outfit speaks before she does. Warhol blinks in neon. Loud, flat, perfect. Every thread repeats. Munch enters in silence. The cloth clings like memory. A shadow wrapped in fabric. Matisse dances. Colour, movement, delight. Art made motion. Vermeer glides, soft as light. She carries stillness. Klimt closes. Gold moves as he does. A step, a shimmer, a myth. It is not fashion. It is memory made visible.