In the middle of Bucharest, where the narrow streets of the Old Town bring together cafés, shops, and fragments of history, Șepcari Street hides a truly surprising past. Beyond the appearance of a simple pedestrian alley, today sprinkled with restaurants and bars, this street carries within its walls the story of one of the most fascinating linguistic and historical episodes of the capital: it is here that the Romanian word „pușcărie” (prison) was born. Yet the story of the hatmakers (șepcari) begins much earlier than one might think. It intertwines the tradition of crafts, the influence of fashion, and urban transformations with the darker episode of detention, which marked both the city’s history and its language.

The “pușcărie” of the Royal Court

Originally, the term pușcărie had nothing to do with its current meaning of prison. It referred to a tower of the Royal Court, built as a military arsenal. In this solid building, the ruler’s weapons were stored—cannons, muskets, and other battle equipment—serving both defensive and ceremonial purposes.

Gun salutes fired from this place marked major events or religious holidays. Gradually, however, the building changed function. Its dark cellars were transformed into detention spaces for thieves, while disgraced boyars were imprisoned in the bell tower. Naturally, the word pușcărie became synonymous with a place of incarceration.

A historical document from 1829 confirms this usage. At that time, the British consul in Bucharest requested, in French, the release of two English subjects “retenus dans les prisons de Pouchkarie.” The term had already entered official language and, more importantly, collective consciousness—where it would remain to this day.

The street of craftsmen: where the name “Șepcari” comes from

If the episode of the pușcărie speaks of severity and detention, the current name of the street points in a different direction: craftsmanship and fashion.

In the 19th century, Șepcari Street was known for the workshops of hatmakers (șepcari), who catered to the tastes of young boyars. After 1830, these elites adopted Russian-inspired fashion, replacing the old oriental fur hats with more Western and modern caps.

Before the age of caps, however, the area was dominated by calpac-makers, specialists in creating large sheepskin hats (calpac), worn by rulers, boyars, and wealthy merchants. The 1832 records of guilds confirm the presence of the calpac-makers in the Curtea Veche neighborhood.

The calpac, along with the işlic—an expensive fur hat with a square or rounded top, symbol of boyar rank—were markers of social distinction. After 1830, these oriental accessories began to be abandoned. Romanian society sought to align itself with Western models, and the cap became the accessory of choice. The calpac-makers quickly adapted, transforming into șepcari (cap-makers), and the street changed its profile—and eventually, its name.

First documentary mentions and modernization of the Old Town

In 1852, the first mention of the Șepcari neighborhood appears, confirming the commercial identity of the street. Workshops, shops, and the bustle of craftsmen gave it the vibrant atmosphere of a city in full transformation.

A major change came after the devastating fire of 1847, which destroyed much of the city center. Reconstruction brought large-scale modernization: sewage, rebuilt infrastructure, and streets paved with river stones. In this context, Șepcari gained a new appearance.

Buildings erected after the fire reflected the architectural style of the 19th century, with more elaborate façades and commercial spaces on the ground floor. Yet beneath this modernized layer, older traces still remain: vaulted cellars, solid foundations, and walls dating back to the 18th century.

A street of ethnic and cultural diversity

As the city grew, Șepcari became a cosmopolitan space. After 1850, not only craftsmen but also liberal professionals settled here, diversifying the social profile of the area.

By 1900, about 100 people lived on Șepcari Street, belonging to various ethnicities and faiths: Orthodox and Catholic Christians, Protestants, Jewish communities, and even Muslims of Albanian origin. This diversity reflected the character of Bucharest at the time—a market-town attracting merchants and craftsmen from across the region.

The mix of cultures, religions, and traditions created a unique atmosphere. On the same street, one could find craftsmen’s workshops, shops selling oriental goods, and modest homes, all coexisting naturally.

Șepcari today: between memory and entertainment

Looking at Șepcari Street today, with its crowded bars and constant flow of tourists, it’s hard to imagine that words, crafts, and traditions that shaped Bucharest once originated here. From the arsenal tower that gave birth to the word pușcărie to the workshops of calpac-makers and șepcari, the street has undergone profound transformations.

Architecture preserves only fragments of this past. Some old buildings still reveal their cellars, while façade lines recall the 19th century. Yet today’s tourist and commercial dynamic blurs those echoes, hiding them under neon lights and bar music.

Still, for those who know how to look beyond appearances, Șepcari remains a street with a unique identity. It is a place where oriental tradition met Western modernity, where a defining word for the Romanian penal system was born, and where the destinies of countless generations of Bucharest residents crossed paths.

A small street, a great history

Șepcari Street proves that every corner of Bucharest hides untold stories. Behind its seemingly banal name lies a complex history: the place where the term pușcărie appeared, and where calpac-makers and șepcari shaped the city’s fashion and economy.

Today, as our steps fall on the cobblestones laid in the 19th century, we unknowingly walk over the traces of thieves once jailed in the arsenal’s cellars, boyars punished in the bell tower, or craftsmen setting the fashion trends of their era.

Șepcari is not just another street of the Old Town, but a fragment of Bucharest’s identity. It speaks of the evolution of language, society, and the city itself—of how tradition intertwines with modernity, and how collective memory hides in the most unexpected places.