I am loved. My cheek is loved. The residents of The Tie Room and I sincerely hope your cheeks are loved too.
‘Tis the season for stars and stripes. Bigly jumbo butterfly-style Bow Tie o’ the Day shows off its patriotic print. It’s paired with my new black t-shirt, which I must say is traveling the bow tie road o’ life. I have no feelings either way about car brands, but Chevrolet’s got the bow tie emblem, so you know I must don Chevy-wear from time to time.
As you can see, the folks at Chevrolet’s advertising firm spell “bowtie” as one word. I do not. In terms of proper spelling/grammar, “bowtie” and “bow tie” are equally acceptable. For whatever reason, I have always gone with the two-word form of the term. [Regarding the term “necktie, my research shows that it is more acceptable to spell it as one word.]
In the scheme of things, probably nobody except me cares about the bow tie/bowtie question. In fact, I know I care about a lot of things which mean absolutely nothing to most other people. We’re all like that, but about varied things. I’ve got my interests. You’ve got yours. The interests that save me on a boring or bad day might not be the interests that save you. And vice versa. My neckwear fan club is smaller than your Utah Jazz fan club. But when it comes to what makes us excited about our days, the size of the club doesn’t matter. It’s the passion for the thing itself which moves our souls.