I love the combination of pink and grey. This passage in the book I'm currently reading made me think about the combination in a whole new way, not entirely pleasant.
'Anne was wearing, that day, rose pink and dove grey. The colours should have had a fresh maidenly charm; but all he could think of were stretched innards, umbles and tripes, grey-pink intestines looped out of a living body... The pearls around her long neck looked to him like little beads of fat, and as she argued she would reach up and tug them; he kept his eyes on her fingertips, nails flashing like tiny knives.' (Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel)
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