For a few good years in my 20s, I was a card-carrying vegetarian.
Then I got pregnant and started eating 20 ounces of rare steak every evening.
And chicken. And lambchops. And bacon.
Oh, and I wear fur.
Nonetheless, some of my best friends are vegetarian. (Well, really, I know some people who used to be vegetarians who have since succumbed to hot dogs, but they feel a bit conflicted.) And for this subset of my social group, I offer up Cri de Coeur an "ethically produced" line of footwear "made by hand as much as possible in Europe". (Ah, when iffy grammar happens to do-good designers.)