It's always sad when an old pair of underpants wears out.  Underpants are the most intimate of companions — they stick with us (and sometimes to us) through thick and thin.  They can serve as pajamas, lounge-wear and as a form of sexual display capable of driving women wild.  The brightly-colored cocktail glasses on the defunct underpants above, for example, send a clear message — “I'm fun . . . but sophisticated!”

I bought those underpants about seven years ago at the Old Navy store on 34th Street in Manhattan.  They were very cheap.  They had a good run and served me well in good times and in bad.