In 1902 the United States Army decided that its uniform was too easy to see. It was blue, a color that looks fine on a parade ground and rather poor on a hillside. So the Army dropped it and issued olive drab, a green with the brightness taken out. The name was honest and the color was dull.

It didn‘t stay dull. In 1965 came the M-65 field jacket, in a shade called OG-107. It had four large pockets and a hood that folded away into the collar. Fashion houses have been making their versions of it ever since. By 1976 Robert De Niro was wearing one in Taxi Driver, and a color meant to vanish had become a way to be noticed. The Army never said whether this was their plan.

Fashion is only part of it. In 1984 a researcher in Pennsylvania compared patients recovering in hospital. Some had a view of trees from their bed, the others a brick wall. The tree group needed fewer painkillers, the nurses wrote far fewer negative notes about them, and most of them went home earlier.

It also helps that green is easy to be around. Surgeons wear it. Actors wait in a green room before they go on. Casino tables and snooker tables are covered in it. 

We have two greens.

Vegas Green is the suitcase. Glossy, a little metallic, lighter in the sun
than you expect. Gator Green is the soft luggage. Matte, a bit darker, calmer.
Vegas is the green of a casino table, Gator the green of a swamp.

They were made to go together. Own one of each and you have a set.