His body looked sleek, smoothed by the peacock blue membrane that encased it.

It was a scarf, a green and peacock blue scarf.

I asked, wincing at the peacock blue shading and thick liner above their eyes.

I skimmed over a face painted peacock blue with cucumber slices over its eyes.

And the peacock blue gown suited me to perfection.

Her eye shadow was peacock blue, her mascara indigo.

Between these pilasters were broader panels of stamped leather, in gently varying shades of peacock blue.

Her apron pocket was never without its quota of these tiny shells of brightest peacock blue.

There was a smear of dirt and scraps on the back of the woman's peacock blue coat.

Even the handkerchief he kept for use which protruded from his sleeve looked new -a peacock blue.

On this occasion Her Majesty selected a most beautiful gown of peacock blue, embroidered all over with phoenix.

Water gushed through rock and cascaded over steep precipices, spilling into pools that looked peacock blue in the sun.

Beneath the peacock blue of his silk tunic one could see the rolls of flesh quiver as he moved.

She was at the opera last night in peacock blue when every other woman was wearing that dead, lustreless white.

I needed peacock blue.

There was nothing mediaeval, nor Pre-Raphaelite, no cupboard door with figures upon flat gold, no peacock blue, no dark background.