In 1936, dimples were more than a charming feature — they were a beauty standard. Hollywood actresses and models of the era wore them front and center, and the public took notice. Women across the country sought ways to recreate the look, turning to makeup tricks and, in some cases, surgical procedures. It was in this climate that Isabella Gilbert, a Rochester-based beauty entrepreneur, stepped in with a gadget she believed would change everything.
Gilbert was already well established in the beauty industry before the Dimple Maker came along. Her beauty parlor in Rochester was a success, offering hairdressing, facials, and makeup services. She had also developed other products, including an eyebrow shaper, a nose shaper, and a travel beauty kit. She understood her customers and knew exactly what they wanted.
The Dimple Maker itself was a simple but strange-looking device. It was worn across the face, positioned over the cheeks, with two small knobs that pressed directly into the skin. The concept was straightforward: wear it regularly, and the constant pressure from those knobs would indent the skin enough to form dimples. Gilbert’s advertisements promised buyers a “fine set of dimples” with consistent use.
The marketing worked. Despite the device’s odd appearance, women bought it. Gilbert reportedly earned up to $12,000 in profit from the Dimple Maker’s sales — a substantial sum in the 1930s. The product tapped directly into a desire that many women already had, and Gilbert knew how to sell the dream.
Not everyone was impressed. The American Medical Association came out firmly against the device. Their position was blunt: the Dimple Maker would not create dimples, and it would not enlarge existing ones. Beyond that, the AMA warned that prolonged use of the device carried a risk of cancer. It was a serious charge against what many saw as a harmless novelty product.
Real dimples are formed by a variation in the structure of the facial muscle called the zygomaticus major. When this muscle is shorter or split, it pulls the skin inward during a smile, creating the familiar indentation. No amount of external pressure from a spring-loaded face gadget changes that underlying anatomy. The Dimple Maker could press against skin all day long and never replicate what is, at its core, a genetic trait. Gilbert’s device belonged to a long tradition of beauty gadgets that promised transformation but delivered little more than the feeling of doing something.
