The second thing guests do upon arrival at the Osho International Meditation Resort is purchase a maroon shoulder-to-toe robe. The guru who began the Osho movement in the U.S. in the 1970s, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, said the robes “unite us in one energy.” So visitors wear them every day, from the first meditation session at 6 a.m. until the evening meeting at 6:45 p.m. My group was no exception.

At first my shallow scoop neck sleeveless robe was comfortable, if a little shapeless and sweaty, and it was nice not to worry about my wardrobe. But I expected dresses to be uniform. Instead the shop sold six styles for women and a knockoff street-side store outside sold five more. Some people came in slightly different shades of maroon. Some cut them into flattering square or sweetheart necklines. Others installed lace-up backs and slightly off-maroon belts. The really dedicated Osho-ites found maroon tote bags and sandals, too.

Even people who self-selected to a place with a strictly enforced dress code couldn’t conceal their individuality. Despite days questioning their social conditioning, people remembered which necklines flattered them most. I expected so much meditation would lead me, and everyone at Osho, not to care how we looked. But hours of looking inward didn’t dissuade people from checking the mirror.

Style is embedded deeply into our senses of self, I think. Osho talks a great deal about knowing your “true self,” before other people’s opinions matter, and defending that self against social norms. And I guess that’s what people with great style do: know their own bodies and dress for them, regardless of critics’ ideas. They use the maroon garments they’re given and shape them with their own creativity.