From Lyvian's Fire:
The Minister of Tranquility had wide, light-green eyes, discerning and intelligent, long lashes and perfectly arched brows. A few years shy of middle age, her skin seemed to glow with a light golden hue. Her tinted lips, full and healthy, were relaxed, yet slightly pursed with purpose. A delicate silver diadem graced her carefully arranged bounty of stacked golden braids. Emeralds on wispy golden chains dangled from her small earlobes, and a tight necklace of many strands of pearls encircled her lissome neck.
But it was her dress that almost stole the show. Vasker had never seen anything like it. With a plunging neckline and tight sleeves, it seemed to have been fashioned from thousands of flakes of pure gold. Of course it could not have been gold, it was fabric of some kind, but appeared as gold. The midday sun, muted and hued by the stained glass above, reflected off the tiny panels of gold to create a sparkling effect as she moved. Subtle orbs of golden sunlight swirled around her and throughout the room.