Plizvit

During a period of approximately three years in the first decade of the 20th century, Berlin's Jewish community was entranced by the image of one of its own: Yehuda Plizvitz, a young playboy considered by one and all to be the most dapper, dashing fellow born in generations. The sartorially resplendent Plizvitz enjoyed a fame, for three brief years, the likes of which could only be appreciated by the still-to-come Holy Triumvirate of Houdini, Chaplin and Einstein. Then, almost overnight, the people whose adoration had elevated him to a messianic fever of celebrity and renown came to the sudden realization that, as a matter of fact, Yehuda Plizvitz was only marginally attractive and that he didn't even wear matching clothes. He became the embarrassment of his culture, and his name, in Yiddish slang, synonymous with someone incapable of wearing matching colors. Note the feminine: plizvitza. Morton Schlomz, protagonist in the high modern, Jewish-American novelist Schlomo Mortonfeld's final book, Fishmonger's Song, described a tryst with "a funny-smelling plizvitza what couldn't evidently remember a color as long as it took to look from one sock to the next." 

Alas, no pictures remain of Yehuda Plizvitz. It seems reasonable to hypothesize that they were incinerated and quick.