Fashion's X-Factors

It still isn't clear exactly what that something is. The word on L.A.

fashion week, an unequal blend of art, commerce and celebration, is that it keeps getting better. That makes it a little like the kid who wins the Most Improved Camper award at summer camp the praise doesn't tell you much about how fast a swimmer he is or whether he can build a campfire. With Smashbox Studios as headquarters, the event is far less chaotic than it was a few years ago, when shows held all over the city were judged too bacchanalian and buyers and press complained that their professional needs weren't being considered.

Celebrities in attendance have increased coverage in Us Weekly et al., but New York-based fashion magazines whose editors travel to Milan, London and Paris still tend to snub L.A.

and rely on their West Coast staffs to survey the market here. And notably, many local designers choose to show in New York after they've achieved some success. Designer Jenni Kayne staged runway shows in L.

A. for four seasons before joining New York fashion week. "I love L.

A., and it's my home," she says, "but to take my business to the next level and have my designs seen by all the buyers and the highest caliber of press, I had to show in New York." But even as L.

A. fashion week struggles for the sort of recognition that will benefit designers, Smashbox wins, its glamour quotient enhanced. "Our goal is to grow fashion week," Davis says.

"We're trying to light a creative fire in this city with fashion and give designers a platform that never existed before." Davis' enthusiasm is unmistakable, and his intentions may well be civic-minded, but fashion week also represents a marketing bonanza for Smashbox Cosmetics. In the best of circumstances, what's good for Los Angeles is good for Smashbox, and vice versa.

Davis is a lean, fit man of 46, with close-set hazel eyes and short, graying hair. He has the athletic affect of an aging surfer dude, which he is, making him appear simultaneously boyish and weathered. There will be nearly 40 shows this season, and with IMG on board, he is not directly responsible for all the elements necessary to make fashion week work music, celebrities, edgy designers, top models, influential members of the media and trendsetting buyers.

But he thinks of himself as a host, and he tries to influence the ingredients that can turn a glorified trade show into a cultural event. The first season shows were held at Smashbox, he arranged for Velvet Revolver (Guns N' Roses minus Axl Rose) to play for a swimsuit show and called on friends who rule L.A.

's nightlife to pack the room with a spirited crowd. He can delegate more now than he used to. "If there's a problem, I'm wearing a headset and I can call security," he says.

"But I don't have to fix it myself." Details matter. The last thing Davis wants is a flub that could be a buzz kill.

"We're such a groovy event," he says. "At the same time, we're very organized, so the buyers and press and VIPs are taken care of really well. I want things to run smoothly, but it can still be fun.

" ANYONE who's known Davis since he was a popular kid at Beverly Hills High would trust him to make fun happen. As a 26-year-old graduate of the Art Center College of Design beginning a career as a commercial photographer, he envisioned the photo studio he wanted to create a haven where artists could be comfortable, be happy and have access to whatever they needed equipment and props, sure, but also intangibles such as a sense of community. "Before we opened," he says, "a photographer would rent a studio in L.

A. and basically get a key, and that was it. You never saw anybody.

If you needed anything, you had to run to the store to get it." The first person hired was Phillip Weingarten, a chef Davis had known since high school. Weingarten designed the studio with room for a kitchen.

"When we conceptualized the business," Weingarten recalls, "we said, 'Wouldn't it be great if a photographer flew in and all he had to do was show up?' We'd provide cameras and lights, have great food available, and we'd have a wealth of information on hair stylists, makeup artists, wardrobe people and anything else that might be needed." Davis opened the studio in 1990, in a former boat showroom in an industrial district of Santa Monica and called it Smashbox, after the accordion-like device once used to shield a camera's lens.

Dean, four years younger than his brother and now president and chief executive officer of Smashbox, came to work the day after he graduated from USC's business school. His help was more than welcome. Six months after the studio opened, it was booked seven days a week, 24 hours a day.

In eight more months, the brothers were looking for a larger space. In 1992, they moved to their current location, a warehouse in Culver City. The facility now has six studios, including one equipped for sound, where music videos and commercials are shot.

The house that Davis and Dean Factor built grew into a hydra-headed business that has had a significant effect on Los Angeles. Their studio took off just as actresses were elbowing models out of advertisements and off the covers of magazines. With celebrities more sought-after, it was natural that L.

A. would become more in demand for photo shoots. But if the photographers, who were often stars themselves, didn't like working here, they would have insisted that everyone get on a plane and fly to New York, or Costa del Sol, or wherever their muse dictated.

That they felt at home at Smashbox helped L.A. attain its status as a preferred place to capture the end of the 20th century in advertising and pop culture.

Bob Dylan's most recent Rolling Stone cover portrait by Matthew Rolston? Shot at Smashbox. Kirsten Dunst by Annie Leibovitz for September Vogue?

Ditto. While last March's Vanity Fair cover featuring Tom Ford with Scarlett Johansson and Keira Knightley in the nude was a work in progress in one Smashbox studio, Davis photographed Ford's replacement at Gucci for German Vogue next door. The availability of tasty, good-looking food has been integral to the studio's success.

When a crew is well fed, it makes for a better day. Conversely, if Weingarten's Good Food catering wasn't satisfying a few dozen stars gathered to shoot a Vanity Fair cover, multiplied by a number of handlers and assistants, the behind-the-scenes picture wouldn't be pretty. "Whenever you go to Smashbox for a photo shoot," designer Lucero says, "it feels like you're in a party atmosphere.

It's conducive to hanging out, and you make connections with photographers, other designers, makeup artists and graphic designers. It's like Andy Warhol's Factory. It has a nice social vibe.

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