The room was full of errant possibility. Between plumes of chalky smoke, the converted electrical shop filled slowly, dominated by lines of oversized, de rigueur puffy jackets. The night before had been the coldest in recent memory. A decade ago, the hangar had been home to an electrical contracting shop. Now, it’s across the street from a bar that specializes in mead, and blocks further away from new clubs like the House of Yes and Brooklyn Made.