A bow tie, you might think, is actually nothing more than a simple piece of cloth. But don't be fooled. It's a piece of cloth the way Old Glory is: with the power to stir passions. Bow ties -- take it from me -- inspire love or hate.

We who wear them are a nation unto ourselves, with a devotion to the bow that no outsider can plumb. I discovered as much after my conversion, when I spoke with my college friend Neil.

His disappointment was sore. His warning was blunt. Our friendship -- nurtured once amid the bric-a-brac of Filene's Basement, where we suffered shoppers' shell shock in pursuit of ties to wear at job interviews -- was being tested.

Back then, we had found some fairly good-looking ties, and we had both gotten jobs, he on the West Coast, I on the East. Now he felt stung, betrayed.

"You wear bow ties? How could you?" he cried. "That would never go over in LA. You'd be a pariah." My fashion sense had lapsed, he claimed, and with it all chance of future success.

Neil tried to enlighten me. Except in a few select cities, he explained, bow ties are shunned, and on the West Coast they scarcely exist. They conjure up images of smoky men's clubs and owlish antiquarians, of something faintly dainty that runs counter to the "California spirit." But I would not be moved.

The simple fact is, Neil's warnings came too late. I was not just unrepentant but deeply at peace, and I attribute this largely to a chance encounter that surprised me in the act of buying my first bow tie.

There I was, seeking sartorial redemption, when she appeared: a woman friend from school. Here was sympathy, I thought. She, female and fastidious, would understand.

I explained to her the slob's predicament. Toothpaste, splattered ink, and various foodstuffs all were attracted to my ties. In the '60s, ties were narrower and made smaller targets, but skinny ties no longer were an option. Surely, I argued, the embarrassment of stains exceeds the stigma of the bow.

She required no convincing, and I was soothed.

She reminded me that much depends on the wearer, whose confidence will silence any tease. Never fear, she said, his blushing may be mistaken for a ruddy tan. She added that bow ties are the most maligned of apparel and need defenders -- stout souls to ride the bowsprit for bow-tie wearers everywhere. I should defend them, she said. I should defend them in print.

Now, although I know that their detractors will never be silenced, I shall wield my pen. Let me, as a small corrective, count a few of the benefits bestowed by the bow.

With a bow tie, form and function merge. It's simple without being mean -- the very definition of elegance. Yet it is also practical and cheap. Were the world a saner place, the bow tie would naturally prevail in an era of miniaturization and financial cutbacks. Owing to its small size and low cost, the gentleman can always carry a spare and look formal in a pinch.

Mere utility, however, is the least of its virtues. All that is beautiful, says Socrates, is difficult, and like many a wearer, I have suffered for my ties. Don't imagine I'll soon forget the trauma of attempting to tie one for the first time.

The novice balks at learning this new rope trick; the clumsiness that has dogged him for life concentrates in his fingertips. Nowhere more than here, he resembles a child. His frustration mounts. His motivation flags. His hands, as if grasping the strings of a bib, pull up lame. This tying operation, with its tucks and folds, is like making up a bed around one's neck.

Yet there's no evading it, and in the end, it is settling for a tangled knot that liberates the wearer. He retires his ordinary neckties to the back of the closet, unperturbed by the knowledge that the world is on their side. Through perseverance, he finds the bliss that comes from mastering the knot.

For all its difficulties, the bow tie rewards its acolytes. It yields delights entirely lost on the world and elevates the pain it imposes to something like pleasure.

Eyeing fellow wearers in the street, the devotee nods and smiles. Like them, he has endured; like him, they have braved the loss of dear friends. Allies in a cause, fellow outcasts all, they have traveled together where necktie- wearers never go.

CHRISTOPHER STUMP