If you went on Grindr anywhere in Detroit around 8:20 p.m. on Saturday, you would see a grid of faces and torsos signaling Something very gay is happening right now. Twinks, twunks, daddies in twink clothes. People of all genders. Last night’s trick. That night’s trick. Your ex-boyfriend. So much mesh and glitter and harnesses. Everything lime, everywhere.

You know who and what I’m talking about because you’ve probably been there yourself (where else would you be?). The meeting place: Little Caesars Arena, which for nearly two hours at the kickoff of the Sweat tour felt less like an arena and more like a place of worship as it brought together Charli XCX and Troye Sivan.

If you’re not queer and know at least one queer person, you’ve probably seen this Instagram story: Charli XCX was draped in a lime green curtain that read “Brat,” which lifted to reveal the British electro-pop artist and producer leading Detroit queers into one of the biggest gay clubs they’d ever experienced. The show hadn’t even started yet (actually, in the halls of the LCA, it might already have), but when I pulled aside local drag queen Purrrspective (@hausofpurrrspective), she already had the perfect description: “It’s like Pride!”

An arena show usually requires a high-budget spectacle, but Sivan and Charli’s lo-fi, industrial approach to the Sweat show delivered a level of authenticity, raw energy and club-kid vibe that money can’t buy. Recently, Lindsay Zoladz of the New York Times compared attending a Charli XCX concert to experiencing “semi-legal warehouse raves.”

My friend offered an even more vivid comparison. When Charli XCX showed up later in the performance wearing a dress made of shredded white fabric that resembled something out of a Guillermo del Toro film, I jokingly texted him, “Folklore.” He replied, “When you throw Taylor Swift down a garbage chute.”

In some ways, the concert was the opposite of a Taylor Swift gig: as stripped down as a major arena show I’ve ever experienced. It was a get-down-in-the-mud, get-your-hands-dirty kind of event with little room for reflection. From the moment Sivan stepped on stage, you were gripped by pure sensuality and pure attitude.

He introduced the audience with “Got Me Started,” which included one of many crotch-grabbing moments and an ensemble of all-male dancers who said “gay sex” with their loose choreography before more literally saying it later in the show in a way I could only previously imagine for a show, let alone an arena-sized one: Sivan miming a blowjob on the microphone. Sivan making out with a male dancer. Sivan faking ass-fucking while another male dancer pushed and thrust behind him. In case you still had questions about what kind of show you were attending, the red lights were Steamworks red and there was a tunnel of cages connecting the main stage to the round stage, hinting at his own brand of sex appeal.

The energy reached new heights when Charli XCX showed up. The show remained dope (and later got doper), but it also morphed into the rave party Zoladz promised, as Detroit proved it’s Brat, the term that defined summer thanks to their eponymous album. The show was deliberately organically relaxed: Aside from the headliners, the pulsing lights did the heavy lifting on a simple multiplatform stage. If you were the only gay guy not there, imagine a night at your favorite queer club—but on steroids.

After each performing songs from their solo albums, Charli and Troye came onstage together and initially gave each other a pep talk before fully teaming up for a performance of “1999” and “Talk Talk.” Both artists pulled from material from the “Brat” album and Sivan’s 2023 “Something to Give Each Other.” Charli XCX’s “Boys” was featured, and she playfully called out to the crowd, “Where all my gay boys at?” Troye Sivan’s “Bloom,” a song about bottoming, felt right at home with this crowd.

Charli XCX, on the other hand, brought a bold energy and a fearless, anything-goes attitude that perfectly embodied “brat”—the summer trend that even presidential candidate Kamala Harris noticed. Charli turned “brat” into a bold dance statement. Amid a sea of ​​hand-clasping, unabashed brats, the term evolved into a vibrant queer movement that celebrated nonconformity, unabashed sexuality, and self-expression. Lime wasn’t just a color you wore on the outside; it was a tangible, electrifying feeling. That night, that color alone—and I’d go so far as to say so many of us—came to life in new ways.