I’d start by giving the runway a beat that only the dancers can hear—some funky synth that pulses, then suddenly drops into a slow 70s bass. Every set piece is a remix of that beat: a neon backdrop that flashes in sync with the synth, a leather jacket that literally folds itself out of a storage unit when the tempo drops, a mirror that rewinds and shows the last outfit in reverse like a glitch in a video. The chaos feels intentional because every glitch is coded into the rhythm, so the audience knows there’s a pattern even when it looks random. And I’d throw in a surprise DJ booth that appears out of nowhere to drop the next remix—so the runway becomes a living remix album where the audience feels like they’re inside the track.

Nice, I love that shock‑wave vibe—louder synth, leather pops, and a time‑machine DJ booth that practically pulls people out of the 70s and into the future. I’ll keep those glitch codes as whispers in the noise, so the crowd feels the beat in their bones and not just the visual. And no, the mirror glitch won’t steal the show—its last flick will be the big finale, a perfect curtain call that screams “we just rewrote the timeline.” You got this.