Visuals by Ian Willms

Vjosa Isai reported, with fogged-up glasses, from a basement jam in Toronto.

Even the aluminum vents in this Toronto basement were sweating, dripping condensation over the partygoers while they undulated to dance hall classics.

As if under a spell, the crowd obeyed the choreography called out by the D.J. — row the boat, step left and then right, show off your sneakers — as he spun “Clarks,” a 2010 party anthem extolling the British footwear brand that is popular in Jamaica.

But Converse, Vans and Nike Air Force 1s were the dominant shoe choice on this Saturday night in May, accessorized to match the Y2K-era aesthetic: sideways caps, basketball jerseys worn over white T-shirts, Baby Phat and Adidas tracksuits, visor sunglasses and splashes of denim, camo print, bubble gum pink and baby blue.

The dance floor, on the subterranean level of a nightclub, was a tableau of a forgotten Toronto party scene, one that had mostly faded by the late 2000s: the basement jam.

Now, driven by nostalgia for a simpler time unencumbered by nightclub politics like strict dress codes or the pressure to spend money on private booths and bottle service, some Toronto millennials have spurred a revival.

“The basement jam is a pure form of party,” said Tristan Dunn, 32, fresh off the dance floor in vintage denim overalls with one buckle undone. “There’s no booth. There’s no bottles. There’s no pretentiousness.”

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