Part of Blofeld's diamond smuggling pipeline, stationed in Amsterdam; she receives the diamonds from the little old lady, and she's supposed to pass them onto Peter Franks. Born on the first floor of Tiffany's while her mother was looking for a wedding ring -- hence the name. Has an extensive wig collection.
What She Did To Help Bond:
Gives him the diamonds in Amsterdam; creates a diversion at the gas station which allows Bond to sneak into Metz's van, and subsequently into Whyte's facility; picks Bond up outside Whyte's facility; throws the cake at Wint or Kidd (we don't know or care which one is which), thereby accidentally revealing the bomb to Bond; has sex with him.
What Happened To Her:
Another ending on water, but without the sex. Bond probably doesn't get the diamonds down from space for her, or put any diamond on her finger. Inconclusive if she remains on the right side of the law, but her obsession with diamonds likely remains.
Like much of this film, Tiffany has a spark of potential -- and nothing more.
It's a neat idea -- a girl smuggler who slowly but surely trades in her devotion to larceny for Bond's incomparable charm (which, at this time, due to Connery's pudginess and sideburns, is actually highly comparable) -- a girl who's not evil like Fiona, nor as innocent as Pussy, but someone in-between. But she's not believable when she's a smuggler, nor when she supposedly turns to the side of good, and to Bond. If anything, Tiffany is never in love with larceny or Bond, but simply with diamonds. They really are this girl's best friend.
One would assume that one would have to be at least marginally intelligent to work as a diamond smuggler. But Tiffany isn't the brightest bulb on the tree. She actually seems to regress intellectually as the film progresses. She starts out smart enough to test Bond's fingerprints (although Bond outsmarts her, but that's to be expected), but ends up getting foolishly dragged in by Blofeld's cat (but how she knows about Blofeld's cat is beyond us), and showing too much cassette-tape-shaped cheek. Aside from her gas station distraction, the only real non-sexual help she renders him is either useless (firing a machine gun wildly at Blofeld's goons) or unintentional (by throwing the cake, she accidentally reveals the bomb). This version of Blofeld isn't right about much, but he is right-on when he says: "Such nice cheeks, too...if only they were brains." When people criticize Bond girls for being dumb, bikini-clad bimbos, they shouldn't look to the early 60s, but to 1971's Tiffany Case. How -- or why -- Tiffany doesn't die is beyond us. That really should have been her in the pool, rather than Plenty. At the very least, it should have been one of Tiffany's wigs.
Tiffany's finest moment is when she's stretched out in a purple bikini -- silent; although the bikini itself looks better than she does in it. Not the most striking woman, St. John's strengths should have been in her acting. It's difficult to say where most of the fault lies -- in the characterization or in St. John's approach to it. But with lines like "Keep leaning on that tooter, Charlie, and you're gonna get a shot in the mouth," one can hardly blame the actress, especially someone as talented as she.
Good thing Tiffany doesn't ask Bond THE question. Because then he would have had to respond -- and that would have been douche chill.