Opera coats were made for a very specific life: a car door, a theater lobby, a coat check. Almost nobody lives that life anymore, which is exactly why they are such a good secondhand buy. They are cut roomy, often with wide sleeves and a big collar, so they slide over a sweater and jeans without a fight. And they make a trip to the pharmacy feel like an entrance.

This first grid is opera and swing coats, the two shapes that work best over everyday clothes. There is a pink 1950s silk opera coat with beading, a 1980 Schiaparelli velvet opera coat in black and gold, and a late 1960s Pierre Cardin swing coat in scarlet. The one I would wear most is the 1930s black velvet coat, because black velvet over a white T-shirt and jeans is a look I have never regretted. Swing coats have the same generous shape with a bit more structure, so they are easier to wear in daylight.

Brocade is where opera coats get fun. A gold or silver brocade coat looks like it came out of a costume trunk when you style it with more brocade, and like the best thing in the room when you put it over black jeans and a black knit. The 1960s gold and tan silk brocade trapeze coat with three-quarter sleeves and the Barbara Tfank gold and ivory brocade coat are the ones I would pick for everyday wear. The John Galliano floral brocade coat is for going out. A plain black knit and flat boots underneath let the fabric do everything.

A quick shopping note for old brocade: look at the edges. Cuffs, collars and the front opening are where metallic threads wear down and fray first, and those spots are hard to fix. A small pull elsewhere is fine. What I would skip: a brocade coat without a lining, since metallic threads can be scratchy against bare arms, and anything the seller describes as fragile. You want a coat you can actually throw on.

Velvet is the classic opera coat fabric for a reason. It is warm, it drapes like water and it looks better with a little wear. The eight here range from a 1920s velvet cape coat to a 1960s Norman Hartnell couture coat in shocking pink and a 1990s Oscar de la Renta devoré velvet coat covered in print. The 1950s black silk velvet swing coat with balloon sleeves is the one I would buy for daily life. It is simple enough to wear with anything and still feels like a party.

Check the photos for bald or crushed patches, especially at the elbows, the seat and the collar, where velvet rubs the most. Steam out creases instead of ironing, and hang the coat on a wide, padded hanger so the shoulders keep their shape. A velvet coat that is looked after will outlast most of the other coats you own.