For the better part of five years, I’ve been going to a shooting retreat in the foothills near Yosemite to improve my skills and have a bit of fun. These retreats or camps have themes and one overarching theme—proper club attire.
Each year (or time I go), the theme changes.
One year it was steel-target shooting, another was “Cowboy Action,” the next “turn-of-the-century gangsters.”
While some folks come and go, for the past three years, the same group of men (and a few women) has shown up. I usually go with two friends—fellow Gen Xers who, like me, came from lower-middle-class backgrounds and now hover in the middle to upper-middle class. We’re having fun, learning skills, and dressing up as the good, the bad, and the ugly. Can you tell which one I am?
The reason? This particular camp has a gentleman’s dress code.
You must wear a waistcoat, tie, and collared shirt or period-specific attire.
The other rule is that dress should match the era: cowboy for cowboy shooting, gangster for the early 1900s, revolutionary soldier for the War of Independence.
The point isn’t vanity—it’s mindset.
The clothes, the rituals, and the roles help you step outside daily life—to learn, compete, and, for one weekend, unburden yourself from the shackles of your “this-could-have-been-an-email” corporate existence fueled with way too much caffeine.
Across the Generations
What I find most rewarding is the banter across generations. At nearly every retreat, there are at least three—Gen X through Gen Z—and if you count the host’s family, sometimes five (Boomer through Gen Alpha). That kind of span is rare, yet the shared interest in history, firearms, movies, video games, and craftsmanship makes it work.
We talk about every kind of movie, the history of video games, and even politics. It reminds me of the old days when men gathered in parlors to debate the news and challenge each other’s ideas—something sorely missing in our culture today. That sense of civility and mutual respect keeps me coming back year after year.
Healthy Competition
Skill-building needs measurement. Since I only practice shooting once a year, my benchmark is how I perform against my fellow campers and how I improve over the weekend. The competition isn’t about winning (though some take it seriously) but about getting better together.
There’s nothing like supportive pressure to expose your limits and highlight where you can improve.
We all root for each other.
We all want to see progress.
We all want to have a good time.
I find a similar spirit in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, but retreats amplify it because the combination of focus, feedback, and fun creates accelerated growth and deeper bonds.
The Power of Focus
A retreat offers immersion. Phones go away. Distractions fade. You’re in the moment.
That focus is fuel for learning and connection. Disconnection from the chaos of the outside world is essential—not just for relaxation, but to practice the art of male friendship and presence.
Connecting With Others
At a shooting retreat, safety and cooperation are nonnegotiable. Even if you know your campmates well, the social contract of “play nice, stay safe” reinforces civility and trust.
But beyond civility lies something richer—purpose and participation. Shared mission, shared attire, shared challenge—these forge camaraderie faster than small talk ever could.
Why This Matters Now
There’s a growing sense that men are drifting—socially, emotionally, and economically.
In a recent post, “Advice for Young Men Who Are Feeling Lost” on Tim Ferriss’s blog, Tim reproduces an excerpt from NYU professor Scott Galloway’s new book, Notes on Being a Man:
- Men now graduate from college at the rate of roughly one for every two women.
- The share of young men (20–24) who are neither in school nor working has tripled since 1980.
- Nearly half of men 18–25 have never approached a woman in person.
- Between 2008 and 2018, the share of men who hadn’t had sex in the past year rose from 8 percent to 28 percent.
- Men are four times more likely to die by suicide and 12 times more likely to be incarcerated.
These aren’t just statistics—they’re symptoms of disconnection.
As I wrote in How Male Friendships Save Lives, building and sustaining close friendships isn’t just good for men—it’s essential. It’s one of the most effective ways to counter the growing epidemic of male loneliness.
Another post, Why So Many Men Struggle to Make Friends, argues that men’s difficulties in forming and maintaining friendships aren’t personal failings but symptoms of broader cultural and structural changes.
And research on masculinity and social connectedness reaches the same conclusion: Men who nurture strong peer relationships consistently report lower anxiety, greater emotional resilience, and higher overall life satisfaction.
Viewed through that lens, a themed shooting retreat isn’t a nostalgic indulgence—it’s social infrastructure. It offers ritual, skill, focus, and shared purpose. It replaces isolation with belonging. The waistcoat, the challenge, the banter—all are tools for rebuilding something ancient and sorely needed right now for men: community.
Realigning the Gentleman’s Code
I use “gentleman’s code” with a wink and a nod, yet its core still matters: respect, ritual, accountability, and honor among peers. That code becomes social glue. A waistcoat isn’t just nostalgia—it’s a signal that, for the weekend, we’re not scrolling or multitasking—we’re here, present, learning, and living.
For men disconnected by work, parenthood, or shifting identities, retreats like these provide what’s missing: structure, ritual, mastery, and camaraderie.
They remind us what it feels like to belong—to compete kindly, to connect honestly, to be seen in a world that feels like it’s passing us by.
What I’ve Learned From These Retreats
Along with how to shoot at paper targets and reload a double-action revolver while on the move, here are my top learnings:
- Friendship often needs a stage and a story. Ritual gives men permission to connect.
- Skill, challenge, and play forge bonds that words alone can’t.
- Multigenerational contact grounds men in continuity, not isolation.
- Ritual resets our relational compass—boots, waistcoats, and all.
- Men don’t need to escape life to find friendship, but they do need the right frame.
If I’ve learned one thing after five years of going to retreats like this, it’s that “fun” is rarely just fun. It’s relational, developmental, and restorative. The dress code, the focus, the shared challenge—all of it becomes a bridge back to friendship and community.
This is why I like the idea of a gentleman’s code—small rituals of respect, skill, and camaraderie that remind us what it feels like to truly connect. In our fractured times, that might be the most modern thing a man can do.
