As surprising as it is, the most memorable affair to happen this New York Fashion Week didn’t stem from Spring Studios or the runway. Besides the tumultuous line outside the venue, an ensemble of models sporting the brand’s latest, and an array of editors, influencers, and celebrity appearances, it’s hard to unblur the lines between the dynamics of a fashion show, and those of the Heaven by Marc Jacobs party.

Hosted at Elsewhere in Brooklyn, the event’s lengthy queue was an accurate representation of the chaos that would ensue. The hype leading up could be attributed to the party’s sacred performances: Doja Cat, Yaeji, Kaytranada, and PinkPantheress. It was a utopian festival lineup, condensed into a mini-rave. “I pulled a look for tonight. This shit better be fun,” said Jester Bulnes, who flew all the way out from LA for the party—specifically for Charli XCX. They wore a brown hyper-mini skirt, square-toed boots, and a body-conscious grey tank, letting their 32-inch platinum blonde hair accented by glittery extensions demand the hall’s attention. “My look is giving cunt,” they said. “It’s giving LA to New York slay.” This statement could only make sense to the chronically-online—an accurate representation of the demographic that attended the party, and danced until morning.

“The vibe is giving a little shy. The girlies need to warm up a little bit, but I think we’re going to carry tonight,” said an Elsewhere regular. As Yaeji took the stage, the room swelled into a sea of people; the crowd mirrored that dream-like state, where it feels as if everyone you’ve ever met is suddenly in the same room as you. Eyes bulged and arms opened for hugs; it’s amusing to think that Marc Jacobs was the connecting factor, bringing people together who probably hadn’t seen each other since “that one fashion internship,” or “that one bender.”

From the corner of the club, Manon, a frequent Heaven collaborator, was blowing kisses and filming make-outs. Later, she got on stage to record PinkPantheress on her VCR camera. “Do something cute,” she shouted when approached, truly keeping up with appearances. Playing into the whimsical yet debaucherous fantasy of Heaven, inebriated guests banded together arm-and-arm for PinkPantheress. The singer has been (rightfully) meme-ified for only having three or four songs, and if you blinked, you missed her set completely. Mosh pits broke out during her hyper-pop hit “Just for Me,” and when her set ended, everyone in the room geared up for the night’s main act, Doja Cat.

The artist had been on a three-month vocal and performance rest, and after one song, an awkward mid-concert talk session ensued: “I’m going to do a Twitter poll on what songs you guys want to hear,” she said, after asking the crowd that same question three times over. It appeared as though Doja was in her own world, and was maybe feeding off the crowd’s intoxicating energy. She ended her set erratically, performing an obscure rock cover and leaving the stage soon after.

The party continued, all skin to skin contact as sweat and humidity filled the room. The bass bounced off the industrial divider walls, and drinks spilled at a consistency comparable to any great rave. “This party is just Instagram University,” echoed through the smoke-filled room, a reminder of the context of the occasion—but interestingly enough, in a room filled with influencers and pseudo-celebrities, the ego of Fashion Week was nowhere to be found. Harmonious love and reconnection defined the night, making it exactly what New York needed.