I've had a mass culling of my skanky pants. Thrown out all the chewed chewing-gum coloured ones and the holey threadbare ones (literally - a pair snapped on me the other day and it wasn't a thong; it had started life as a midi). A liberating experience (not quite on a par with bra burning, but hey). In place of the nasty knicks I have bought a job lot of UniQlo soft fluffy big pants. I'm immensely pleased with them. So much so that when it came to washing them all I found myself ironing them and folding them back up as they were when they came out of the packet (yes, I actually paid attention to how they'd been folded). I ironed my knickers. I have a constant pile of laundry the size of the butter mountain that I hide in the wardrobe when people come to visit and yet I ironed my pants. And then I folded them and lined them up neatly in my drawer.
I now have the pants drawer of a serial killer.